Barbara L. Curtis, age 90, passed away on August 20, 2026, in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She was born on November 5, 1935, in the little town of Needles, California, the only child of Lawrence “Cal” Boss and Helen Rene Murray. From the very beginning, Barbara had an independent spirit, a vivid imagination, and a curiosity about the world around her that would stay with her throughout her life.

As a little girl, Barbara could often be found riding her bicycle through the neighborhood, using her imagination to turn an ordinary afternoon into an adventure. Her grandmother encouraged that curious nature, even allowing her to collect bugs in jars and line them along the shelves of the screened in porch.

One of the stories Barbara often shared from her childhood took place while the family was living across the street from the high school in Needles. During one particularly hot California summer, the military used the area for a training exercise, taking advantage of the extreme desert heat. She remembered standing on the front porch and watching as tanks maneuvered nearby, rising out of a gully before slamming back down to the ground with such force that she could feel the earth shake beneath her. It was the kind of memory she carried for a lifetime and continued sharing with her family many years later.

Her childhood home was also filled with card players, and few games were taken more seriously than the family’s famously “cut throat” games of cribbage. What began as part of her childhood became a lifelong family tradition, especially during holiday gatherings. The competition may have been fierce, but the time spent around the table together was what mattered most.

Barbara was raised to be independent and grew into a woman who was always very much her own person.

She attended Bakersfield High School, where she enjoyed ballroom dancing, participated in band, and served on an interracial council. Even as a young woman, Barbara did not believe in barriers between people. She believed in looking beyond appearances and giving people a chance. She often reminded those around her not to “judge a book by its cover,” because the story inside might be amazing. You might make a friend, she would say, and learn something in the process.

That belief followed Barbara throughout her life. She was an advocate for the underdog and had a natural compassion for those who needed someone in their corner. She believed deeply that love could heal all things and often encouraged her family to simply “follow your heart,” because she believed the heart would lead you in the right direction.

Her parents had the foresight to encourage her to pursue higher education, and Barbara attended San Jose State University, where she earned a degree in Occupational Therapy. At the time, occupational therapy was a career few people seemed to understand. That, she said, was part of the reason she chose it. It was different, it allowed her to help people, and it provided her with a career through which she could always take care of her family.

Her interest in helping and healing others extended well beyond her professional career. In the 1980s, Barbara became a Reiki master, embracing another practice centered on healing, spirituality, and caring for others.

Barbara married and became the mother of two sons, Brian and David. Following her divorce, she moved with her boys to Bakersfield, California, where they could be closer to her parents.

She would later find the great love of her life in Robert “Bob” Curtis. The two married on May 4, 1973, blending their families and beginning a life together filled with camping adventures, family gatherings, music, laughter, and love.

Bob was Barbara’s one true love. Some of their most treasured moments did not require anything elaborate. Sometimes it was simply the two of them together in the kitchen, dancing to one of their favorite songs.

When Bob passed away in 1992, Barbara never felt the need to search for another relationship. When asked about it, her answer was simple: “I had the best. No need to look any further.”

Family was at the center of so much of Barbara’s life. She loved family dinners and get togethers, and the kitchen became another place where memories were made and lessons were passed from one generation to the next. Her blueberry pancakes were a favorite, and she became especially well known within the family for her enchiladas.

Cooking was about more than putting food on the table. Barbara wanted her family to know how to take care of themselves and one another. When the children were growing up, each of them had to cook for the family once a week. In doing so, she taught them not only how to prepare a meal, but also independence, responsibility, and the importance of contributing to the family.

Those lessons in responsibility extended beyond the kitchen. When the children got into trouble, their parents sometimes made them choose their own punishment. It was an unusual approach, but there was a lesson behind it: actions had repercussions, choices had consequences, and they had to think about the outcome of the decisions they made. It was one more way Barbara prepared her family to become independent people capable of finding their own way in the world.

Yet for all the lessons she taught, Barbara was equally known for simply being there.

She was patient and kind, and she was a wonderful listener. Family and friends knew they could come to her when they needed advice, reassurance, or simply someone willing to hear them out. She did not need to have all the answers. Sometimes her presence was enough.

And then there were her hugs.

Barbara hugged everyone. Family, friends, and those who entered her life knew her as someone who was generous with affection. A hug from Barbara was simply part of knowing and loving her, an expression of the belief she carried throughout her life that love had the ability to heal.

Creativity was also woven deeply into who Barbara was. She was a talented artist, and many of her paintings remain hanging in the homes of family and friends. She enjoyed decoupage, macramé, crocheting, needlepoint, and countless other creative pursuits.

Barbara was an avid reader with an endlessly curious mind. She loved a good mystery but was equally interested in books about spirituality and a multitude of other subjects. Her taste in music was just as broad, ranging from country and jazz to pop. Whether she was painting, creating something with her hands, reading a new book, listening to music, dancing with Bob in the kitchen, playing a competitive game of cribbage, or gathering everyone around the table for a meal, she found meaning in both learning and togetherness.

Throughout her life, Barbara remained the independent, imaginative, compassionate woman she had been since childhood. She taught her family to think for themselves, to accept responsibility for their choices, to look beyond appearances, to stand beside those who needed someone in their corner, and above all, to love.

Barbara is survived by her sons, Brian H. Vatcher and his spouse, Cary Boisvert, and David M. Vatcher and his spouse, Jerry S. Leversee; her stepdaughter, Mary Ellen Simmerman and her spouse, Joe Simmerman; as well as members of the extended Murray and Boss families.

She was preceded in passing by her beloved husband, Robert “Bob” Curtis, and her parents, Lawrence “Cal” Boss and Helen Rene Murray.

Barbara’s family will carry forward far more than memories. Her paintings will continue to hang on their walls. Her recipes will find their way back to family tables. There will still be games of cribbage, stories told about adventures long ago, favorite songs that bring back memories of dancing in the kitchen, and moments when someone will undoubtedly wish for one more of her hugs.

And through it all, there are the words and lessons Barbara spent a lifetime sharing: never judge a book by its cover, remember that love can heal, and when you are uncertain which direction life should take you, follow your heart. It will lead you in the right direction.