Dolores Arlene (Hall) Olin, 87, passed away on Friday, June 16, 2017 with her family by her side.
She was born in Iowa City, Iowa to Sameul and Gladys (Littrel) Hall on January, 4, 1930.

Five children, 14 grandchildren, and numerous great grandchildren with more on the way.
Mom was born economically poor but rich in heritage and in just plain life. Her childhood was spent close to higher education while she had little educational opportunities of her own. At one time, her father worked for the University of Iowa as a gardener. She cherished her memories of being barefoot, wiggling her toes in the mud of the Mississippi river while fishing with her father, Sam. She chased lightning bugs and watched tornadoes swing by, grounding her in simple wonderful life filled with her family's love, oh, yeah, and the hearts of many watermelons from her father's work at the university experimental farm.

When twelve years old, early in World War II, her family had the opportunity for work (scarce at the end of the depression years) in a far off place, Washington State. They secured permission and resources to travel, as was the norm in that time. During the war, one needed to apply for government permission and ration cards for tires and fuel to travel any distance. So off to the west they went. They settled in a little town called Pateros, upriver from Wenatchee in apple country. This would be a fortuitous place for Dolores.

Mom went to school and grew along the mighty Columbia just as she had done along the Mississippi. The little girl grew into a devastating, headstrong brunette with a bright smile, and oh yeah, quite an attitude went with the package. One day, while attending a dance up in Brewster, she was spotted by a 19 year old lanky fellow, Gilbert Wayne Olin, who was aware of a girl named Dolores. It turned out that there were three Dolores at the dance. They were each pointed out and he said, "That one!” pointing directly at the woman he eventually would marry. The evening was eventful.

Once having met, they continued to progress and culminated in "making it official". They began a journey together that started off with a freeze. Their first winter of their marriage was spent in a shale rock house up on the plateau between the Mosses Coulee and Grand Coulee on the Family Homestead. One can only imagine the situation. They were young and tough. They made it together.

So hard work, four children, polio, a house burnt down, losing everything, another child (what were they thinking?), much more hard work. The sacrifice, hard work and tougher then nails attitude paid off. The kids grew up, moved out, and there they were, two people exploring the world. Now Mom never wanted to be a house wife, she wanted to be everything. That's why she married Dad. Together they were unstoppable. They explored every beach, mountain, and desert across this county. I personally think my mother was born bent over looking for agates on some Pacific beach. I could have graduated junior high with an honorary degree in geology, otherwise known as "leaverite" training. Ask, if you are not familiar with that term. Rocks, trees, all forms of flora and fauna were distinctly pointed out and discussed as we traveled to every park, preserve, beach, and road side attraction found in North America. Their adventures were so elaborative that I took to writing short stories of fiction born out of the colorful existence of being parented by nomads, vagabonds of the highway system.

Mom was amazing to watch, she could keep dad focused and motivated, plan the future events of our family and crochet a pair of slippers all at the same time.
So She lived.
She lived devastatingly, amazingly, and profoundly happy!