BARBARA CRANMER ROBERTSON

In Celebration of Barbara Cranmer Robertson

1931–2026

Barbara "Barby" Cranmer Robertson spent 94 years proving that joy is a choice. Through triumph and heartbreak alike, she greeted each day with hope, laughter, lipstick, and an unwavering determination to make someone else's life brighter.

Born and raised in Snohomish, Washington, Barbara was the daughter of Bernard and Fern Cranmer and the loving sister of Janet. She graduated from Snohomish High School with the Class of 1949, where she was a proud member of the National Thespian Society. She treasured her classmates throughout her life and rarely missed a reunion—or a chance to catch up over the phone. As a young woman, she served as Worthy Advisor of the Snohomish Order of Rainbow for Girls before attending the University of Washington, where she earned degrees in Sociology and Elementary Education.

Barby was also a devoted member of Alpha Chi Omega for more than 75 years, remaining active with the Orange County Alumnae Chapter, where she was known for her warmth, humor, and joyful spirit.

At the University of Washington, Barby met the love of her life, John "Johnny" Robertson, an ROTC cadet who would become a U.S. Air Force fighter pilot. They married in 1952 and enthusiastically embraced military life, making homes across the United States and in Germany while raising their family.

In Sembach, Germany, they were known as the "it” couple. An Air Force newspaper recognized Barby not simply as the wife of one of the Air Force's finest reconnaissance pilots, but as an exceptional ambassador for military families. She welcomed new wives with open arms, served faithfully in the Wives Club, and embodied grace, resilience, optimism—and impeccable style. Together she and Johnny skied the Alps, danced late into the night, traveled throughout Europe, entertained fellow Air Force families, and embraced every adventure life brought their way.

Their lives changed forever on September 16, 1966, when Colonel John Robertson was shot down over North Vietnam and listed as Missing in Action.

Barby never gave up hope that Johnny would come home. When reports surfaced in 1986 suggesting he might still be alive in captivity, her quiet hope became determined advocacy. For decades she traveled to Washington, D.C., tirelessly fighting for POW/MIAs, military families, and widows' rights. She served as Vice Chair of MIA/POW Families, volunteered with MOAA and organizations serving children with developmental disabilities, and became a respected voice for families searching for answers. Her unwavering commitment was recognized in Newsweek, Time, People, the Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, and many other publications.

Barby missed Johnny every day of her life, but she refused to let grief define her. Instead, she chose joy. She chose to keep living.

Reflecting on her life, Barby once wrote:

"My life has been filled with an abundance of love, laughter, and tears... As rich and full as the past has been, I believe the best is yet to come. I still plan to dance many dances; stroll many more beaches, dive and sail many more oceans; chase lots of golf balls; bask in the beauty of sunsets, the stars and the moon—and yes, some sunrises, too."

That optimism never left her.

She spent the next 56 years in Southern California embracing every opportunity for adventure. She did chase golf balls across countless fairways and faithfully followed Arnold Palmer and professional golf. She sailed oceans and scuba-dived beneath them, climbed pyramids, went on safari, strolled beaches, and watched sunsets. Her travels took her across the United States and around the world—to Denmark, England, Scotland, Egypt, Mexico, Greece, Poland, the Caribbean, Bali, Hong Kong, and many places in between.

She loved watching sports and was an avid fan of college, professional and grandchild sporting events, whether in person or virtually. College football was her favorite and she passionately (and loudly) cheered on her much-loved Washington Huskies. While Husky purple was first in her heart and t-shirt collection, she often alternated Oregon Duck green and Georgia Bulldog Red to cheer her teams on.

Some of her happiest memories were made with her sister and best friend, Janet, laughing until they cried while feasting on Dungeness crab at Eliza Island (with her adored nieces and nephews and their families) or sipping Mai Tais on Hawaiian beaches, or simply talking on the phone daily. Barby kept the party going well into her 90s. She was a cheeky flower girl at her granddaughter’s wedding, capturing the hearts of all her saw her —and was the last one to leave the dance floor. She never stopped looking toward her next adventure.

Barby loved people. She had an extraordinary gift for making everyone feel seen, valued, and genuinely loved. Her home was always open, and her children's friends quickly became her own. She welcomed people without judgment, celebrated every success, listened with compassion, and encouraged everyone to find joy in each day. She somehow managed to become friends with everyone she met and had a remarkable way of making each child, grandchild, greatgranchild and friend feel like they were secretly her favorite. Somehow, they all were.

Above all else, Barby adored her family.

She loved spending one on one time with her children and grandchildren (and they with her), whether travelling, cheering, boogie boarding, beer tasting, or just chatting. She was sincerely interested in hearing about the details of their lives and was truly invested in their dreams and desires - celebrating their wins, while empathizing with their struggles. She always wanted the very best for each of them and often had a list of specific wishes for family and friends written on her “purple plate,” which she kept under her pillow each night.

Barby was tragically preceded in death by two of her cherished children, Deborah and Barney. Her beloved husband, Colonel John Robertson, remains Missing in Action.

Barby is survived by her loving daughters, Stacey (David) and Shelby (Skip); nine cherished grandchildren—Jesica (Manolo), Audra (Mike), Estee, Devin, Eva (Taylor), John (Megyn), Lauren (Cara), Barbara (Nestor), and Lyndy; and fourteen adored great-grandchildren: Calvin, Manolo, Ian, Emma, Saoirse, Liam, Clementine, Atlas, Brooklyn, John, Gus, Faxon, Fynn, and Amelia. She also leaves behind extended family and countless dear friends who became family.

Her children and grandchildren knew her as their biggest champion. Her great-grandchildren knew her as "GG," always ready with hugs, bubbles, sidewalk chalk, afternoons in the swimming pool, or a few putts on her backyard putting green. One of her final joyful moments was playing peek-a-boo with her youngest great-granddaughter—a perfect reflection of the delight she found in life's smallest blessings.

In her later years, Barby became a familiar and beloved sight walking through her neighborhood with her signature purple walking sticks—and later, a purple walker she affectionately named "George." She waved to neighbors, stopped to visit with everyone she met, and often spoke of how blessed she felt to have spent 56 years in the home she loved, surrounded by friends she treasured.

Barby delighted in dark chocolate, crab, raspberries, hummingbirds, fresh flowers, breathtaking sunsets, cocktails served in beautiful glasses, and anything purple. She never missed an opportunity to celebrate life, whether ordinary moments or milestones. She had a quick wit, a mischievous sense of humor, a bit of sass, and a signature goodbye:

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," always followed by a grin.

Barby believed every person deserves kindness (and a hug). Every day deserves celebrating. Every sunset and moonrise deserves appreciating. And every bird deserves feeding. She taught by example that courage is choosing hope, love is something we do, and joy is a choice we make over and over again.

Her life was never defined by the hardships she endured, but by the love she gave so freely.

She leaves behind generations who laugh a little louder, love a little deeper, cheer one another on a little more enthusiastically, and greet each day remembering the example she set.

In lieu of flowers, Barby's family invites you to honor her in the ways she would have loved most: watch a sunset, tell someone you love them, savor a piece of dark chocolate, raise a cocktail in a beautiful glass, and if the moon is full, let out a joyful howl in her memory.

Because if Barby taught us anything, it is that life—no matter what it brings—is meant to be celebrated.