Claudia Ellin Proffit

As our mom, Claudia Proffit, left this earth on Wednesday, February 19th, we imagined her being greeted by our dad, who preceded her in death, hand outstretched, inviting her to dance again to this song by Ian Tyson, quoted below, that we consider to be their song.

 “Darlin’ we haven’t gone dancin’ 

For such a long time now 

It’s been so long since we’ve twirled around the dance floor, 

I’ve almost forgotten how 

So gas up the pick-up 

I’ll bring the babies–

they’ll stay at the neighbors’ tonight 

And if the band at the bar can play waltzes and shuffles 

I’m gonna dance with my own heart’s delight

 We make a good team, my lady and I

I couldn’t ask for anything more

If you don’t believe me 

Just catch us tonight,

We’ll be the best dancers out on that floor”

 They loved dancing and were truly well-partnered both in dancing and in life. It is hard to think of one without the other and there isn’t much more beautiful than the family unit they built and the life they made for themselves and for us, their family. It was a grand thing they did, raising us on a little ranch, presenting so many priceless opportunities, experiences, and adventures, creating a sense of team and belonging, and fostering a little bit of toughness.

 Here’s a little bit of her story and the amazing person she was:

Claudia Ellin Hamilton Proffit, 83, was born in Evanston, WY to John and Lola Hamilton, and grew up on the ranch near Fort Bridger, along with her siblings Jerry, Chuck, Patty, Richard, and Chris. It wasn’t easy–she recalled living almost hand-to-mouth with winter walks to the outhouse, hauling water for cooking and washing, canning meat in the summer because there wasn’t any refrigeration, sleeping 3 in a bed, and taking baths in a big tub in the kitchen. She believed that she inherited the “dive in and get it done” attitude from her mother. 

She was baptized as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints when she was 17 and remained a strongly devoted member thereafter.

 She was able to attend the University of Wyoming, where she developed a lifelong loyalty for the Cowboys (she was a cheerleader when they were Cowboy Joe’s handlers and had to run him around the field after scores). “Ragtime Cowboy Joe” was part of the lullaby rotation for her babies. During her time at UW she developed lifelong friends, including future sisters-in-law Pat Mangus Proffit and Lola Proffit Baldwin, and her roommate Fran Booth Jones, and where she found her partner in life, Don Proffit. 

She graduated with a bachelor’s degree in nursing and taught university nursing classes for 2 years afterward. She and Don were married December 26, 1963 (according to family lore, that date was so he would be able to remember their anniversary.) Before settling and ranching south of Evanston, Wyoming, they lived and worked in Owyhee, Nevada on the Duck Valley Indian Reservation, and in Woodruff, Utah where Don worked on Deseret Land and Livestock for two years. In both places they built friendships that lasted their whole lives. 

 Adventures, challenges, beauty, and joy were the staples of raising kids and ranching in Wyoming with their “gypsy cows” (their cows were well traveled, which comes from having to lease pasture all around the region.) The little place on the Bear River south of town was their home base, and where their kids got to be close to grandparents and cousins with space to roam and play. Claudia devoted a lot of years to homemaking, mothering, and church service, and she loved and excelled at it.

 Mom “resembled” and got a kick out of the joke, “Behind every successful rancher was a wife that worked in town,” and in 1986 she went back to work as a nurse, spending most of her career in the operating room. She was fascinated by surgery and frequently wanted to share some of the gory details, often at dinnertime, which wasn’t always appreciated by her kids. It wasn’t uncommon for her to get called in during a big ranch job or in the middle of church, and she’d fly into town dressed however she was to the delight of her coworkers. (Once on her speeding way to the hospital she was followed by a highway patrolman with lights flashing, and when they arrived, the story is that she told him that he’d have to wait until after the case if he wanted to give her a ticket and then left him in the parking lot. Apparently, he left.) She enjoyed serving people in this capacity, supporting the ranch and her family, and building lasting bonds with her “O.R. family.” 

She eventually retired from the hospital, but not from the ranch, and she and Don became mostly inseparable in all the cow jobs and running the ranch in the years when most people enjoy their retirement, (and while both preferred step stools to get on their horses.) They could still outlast and outwork their kids, who had always been their ranching help.

Don died in February of 2019 and Claudia waited 6 more years before joining him. She missed him greatly. 

She soldiered on bravely, though, fighting cancer, leading the ranch, keeping up their cow operation, and focusing on relationships with her grandkids; all a reflection of her work ethic, ability to face hard things straight on, love of family, and her way of just getting on with things.

 They raised and are survived by six kids: Clint (Veronica) Proffit, Nonie Proffit, Cody (Marty) Linford, Kim (Jill) Proffit, Liberty (David) Day, Tiko (Morgan) Heaps. 

Claudia was proud of and loved very much the 18 grandkids and 9 great grandkids that followed. 

She is also survived by her siblings, Pat Potter, Richard (Carol) Hamilton, and Chris Aimone; by her in-laws (and friends,) Larry (Pat) Proffit, Lola (Mel) Baldwin, and Deanne Richins; and by nieces and nephews who were a big part of her life.

 Her list of achievements really boils down to these few things: 

She got a lot of joy and satisfaction out of the life that she and Don built together. They found a way to make their vocation and their recreation seamless.

 She created and curated (seemingly effortlessly,) beautiful, hard, fun, extraordinary experiences and opportunities for her family. She nurtured and protected, encouraged and challenged. 

 She had long-time, true friends. Especially her siblings and in-laws.

 She endured and enjoyed. Persisted and played. She was tough and tender. Showed grit and grace. She was a force and a friend. Stoic and sensitive.

 There really was no better mom; no better way to grow up. 

   Here are a few extra facts about her and how we, who loved her most, knew her:

 She appreciated practical, useful gifts. (“I love a shelf more than a stole!”) 

 She was frugal and taught us to manage our own money from a young age (“Get out some of your own moldy money.”)

 She believed in the power of letter writing, even if the letters were mostly newsy and observations about the weather or what was currently happening on the ranch. (In her distinctive slanty handwriting.)

 She loved history, especially that of her family and Southwest Wyoming. (The kids weren’t always as excited by museum visits as she was.) She was frequently asked to give presentations on history.

 She had the “mom magic” of making everything go better. (Working cows was always smoother with her. “You’re getting a little hollery, Don.” (As she stuffed a piece of candy in his mouth.)) 

There was less hollering, more snacks, more fun, more breaks, and chances to play in the creek.

 She was an avid journal keeper and record keeper. (Including jotting down the funny things kids said to read at their birthday party “roast,” that turned into family jokes and lore.) 

 She could walk really fast. And had good posture.

 She maintained a long-range view of challenges and tough things and tried to help her kids see it, too. (“This too shall pass.”)

 She was a good teacher and public speaker. She worked hard at researching and preparing all sorts of lessons or talks. (Including the memorable instances of teaching a homemaking class on food preservation (while she was in labor,) and developing the “Tracy Chicken, leave no Trace” girls camp lesson, utilizing a rubber chicken prop.)

 She had a strong faith and was well-versed in scripture. She did her best to emulate the Savior. (One of the kids asked, “Who will text us scriptures now?”)

 She believed in being prepared and planning. (Including never going anywhere without “reading material” in case of downtime. And then the food storage and food preservation–years of hauling a bunch of kids to Utah to pick apricots or cherries, followed by canning and drying bushels of them.) 

 She was very resourceful, practical, and didn’t waste anything, even time. (“Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.” And she didn’t throw much away, either. But she really could find it again when it was needed.)

 She could find anything in her house. (It didn’t always look organized, but it was. Her memory must have been near photographic.)

 She remained an avid UW fan. (She and Aunt DD became great travel buddies–often trekking to Laramie for games of all sports.)

 She loved music and enjoyed singing. (And was good at it.) (She made miles and time disappear as she sang the way home. “Don’t Fence Me In,” “You Are My Sunshine,” “Sing Your Way Home”…and about 101 more. Some patients referred to her as the “singing nurse.”)

 She was an avid reader. (She could transform a carload of grumpy kids into a rapt audience as she read to us in the car (while having one of us brush her hair.) and transmitted her love of reading.)

 She was good at playing and encouraging our play and imagination. She was an adventurer and fun. (After chores were done, we’d be turned loose to “be free” with mostly unsupervised, unscheduled time to play. Several of the sisters had eye-opening experiences seeing their mom let loose at girls camp.) 

 She had a good sense of humor and liked a good joke (or prank). (She often clipped comics or quotes that she found funny, posting them to share the chuckle (and they’d stay on the bulletin board for years and years.) To gently tease a cranky surgeon once, she casted the lock on his locker.) 

 She enjoyed poetry, especially cowboy poetry, and often recited along with Dad. (She left notes for the younger kids to find after school with reminders of chores, etc.–all in rhyme. There were several years also when she wrote her Christmas updates in (sometimes questionable) rhyme: 

“We aren’t too good at writing news throughout the year, 

But at Christmas time we think about our friends from far and near. 

We wonder how you are doing and if all is well with you, 

And we wish you a Merry Christmas and special blessings all year through.”)

 She seldom, if ever, lost her temper or even raised her voice. (“Carrumba,” “cock-eyed it,” or “garbage pit” were her favorite “swear words.”) 

 She was a peacemaker. Her form of discipline was subtle, and she did a good job of avoiding fights or issues. (“You be the bigger person.” “We don’t say shut up.” “We don’t say dumb.” “We don’t hit.”)

 She was dedicated to the ranch and she loved the life. She felt it important that we shared the satisfaction of doing hard things and shared her vision of the beauty in the lifestyle. She wanted us to recognize the uniqueness of knowing these experiences. 

(“I have often wanted to tell you kids that I hope you can appreciate the uniqueness of your rural, ranch, cowboy homelife.

To treasure it, even though at times it was hard… 

I should have said years ago, ‘Jump at the chances to go with your dad, every opportunity you have.’”

–Her “Valentine Bandit Letter”)

Funeral services will be held on Monday, March 3rd at 11 AM (we had to wait until after State Wrestling, of course,) at the Evanston South Stake Center, with a viewing the night before from 6-8 PM, as well as just preceding the funeral: 9-10:30 AM.