From that time, Bonnie did odd jobs for my family, often lecturing us on how to take better care of our place and tending to whatever she thought needed it, such as by rummaging through the dump for the exact part to fix our toilet. During these 15 years, she also became a friend.

Bonnie arrived in Chapel Hill on Christmas of 1971 in the back of a camper-trailer with a kitten, a red metal trunk from a Ford pickup truck, and not much else, at age 18, in an effort to distance herself from an unsupportive family in upstate New York. She landed here because that's where the laborers who picked her up on the road were headed.

Bonnie lived on the Chapel Hill streets for two years. She took whatever work she could find in exchange for food. Her pride kept her from begging or admitting she was hungry. She spent time at Switchboard, where she joined a small community of people who lived on the streets. Most evenings, she went dancing at a local nightclub whose owner allowed her free admission. She rarely drank and while there, rarely stopped dancing.

Thanks to the Inter-Faith Council, Bonnie got a room over a restaurant (then Leo's), which was large enough to squeeze in a single bed and dresser, and shared a bathroom with other tenants. She worked at Burger King, and then Breadman's, which she enjoyed immensely.

She saved enough money to buy her first car and move into a trailer that she rented in Chatham County. She took a nightshift job at Triam, a factory in Carrboro, where she formed friendships. Because Triam paid for piecework, Bonnie arrived early, worked as hard and fast as she could, and sacrificed breaks to increase her productivity. When Triam eliminated nightshifts, Bonnie left to work full-time at her day job at Chapel Hill Cleaners, where she stayed for ten years.

Bonnie saved what she could and dreamed of owning her own home. In the meantime, she shared in a house with five men, each with their own color of toilet paper (Bonnie's was green). In the mid-1980s, Bonnie purchased land in the historic Rogers Road community, and spent time on her land whenever she could. She hung her wet laundry to dry in the woods, and enjoyed watching birds build nests in the corners of her fitted sheets. She acquired small, discarded plants and planted them in her soil. (Some now stand 30 feet tall.) Eventually, Bonnie found a mobile home dealer who would accept the title to her land as down payment, and contractors who accepted installments.

When Bonnie moved into her home, in 1986, she was working nearly 100 hours a week at three jobs. In the 1990s, Bonnie became ill and filed for disability. This was a frightening time and a tremendous blow. To make ends meet, Bonnie became a skilled scavenger, familiar with area trash bins and adept at scouring ads for significant markdowns. During the years that followed, Bonnie survived approximately 20 surgical procedures, including two for different types of cancer.

To create meaning in her life, Bonnie volunteered. A lover of animals, she helped at the animal shelter for 17 years. She also stuffed envelopes at the ArtsCenter, the Women's Center, UNC Hospitals, and the area classical station. She served on the Solid Waste Advisory Board, the Animal Services Advisory Board, several boards pertaining to the betterment of the Rogers Road community, and Friends of the Orange County Animal Shelter, where she served as president for a time.

In 1999, Bonnie became romantically involved with Daniel Sunkel, who filled a gap in her life that had always felt empty. They also included in their family the many cats, dogs, and birds Bonnie rescued from the shelter.

In 2010, Bonnie was diagnosed and treated for leukemia, then spent months at a rehab center. With the support of friends who brought her food, clothes, and even bathed her, she survived what she considered the most difficult year of her life. When Bonnie realized her days were numbered, she donated her things to worthy causes. She died peacefully in her sleep at home, surrounded by her beloved animals and her beloved partner, Daniel.

All who knew Bonnie will miss this "big ole woman" with a "big ole personality" to match. I know I do.