The Southwest Booster - - OBITUARIES/SPORTS -

- Maimo passed away at Cy­press Re­gional Hospi­tal, Swift Cur­rent, SK on Mon­day, Septem­ber 14, 2009 at the age of 90 years. The Fu­neral Ser­vice was held on Fri­day, Septem­ber 18, 2009 at 2:00 PM from St. Olaf Lutheran Church with Pas­tor Linda Hall of­fi­ci­at­ing. The In­ter­ment Ser­vice fol­lowed at Mem­ory Gar­dens Ceme­tery, Swift Cur­rent, SK. The or­gan­ist was Ar­lene Ol­son, soloist was Trudy Friesen, ush­ers were Al­fie Yol­land and Rose Mantie. Pall­bear­ers were Fred Berg, Scott Und­seth, Daryl Berg, Har­vey Mantie, Mark Mantie, Ernie Moen and Bill Chalk. Maimo is sur­vived by her hus­band William Gotzman. She was pre­de­ceased by her par­ents Oskar and Alma Kirves, one sis­ter and one brother in Es­to­nia. She was born in Kanepi Vo­ruma, Es­to­nia on Septem­ber 24, 1918. She came to Canada in Oc­to­ber 1948 to Tren­ton, ON. Maimo mar­ried William Gotzman in Tren­ton, ON on Novem­ber 26, 1949. Her hob­bies w ere read­ing, petti-point, cro­chet­ing, gar­den­ing, col­lect­ing or­na­ments and many oth­ers. She had been re­sid­ing in Swift Cur­rent since 1968. She en­joyed liv­ing in the city very much and she loved the Saskatchew­an Prairies. Maimo will be sadly missed by fam­ily and friends. In her mem­ory do­na­tions can be sent to the Cana­dian Di­a­betes Foun­da­tion or to the St. Olaf Lutheran Church Memo­rial Fund. War­ren's Fu­neral Home were en­trusted with the ar­range­ments. For fur­ther in­for­ma­tion call 773-8831 or 1-800-267-6606 or visit our web site at www.war­rens­fu­ner­al­ and ex­press your sym­pa­thy to fam­ily mem­bers in our book of con­do­lences. Here is a lit­tle poem writ­ten by Maimo in 1973 when Saskatchew­an was at a low point but she never thought that Saskatchew­an was a "no" prov­ince. Golden Saskatchew­an I am a stranger to the prairie land, But the open hori­zon and clear blue skies, Have made me feel free, To move and to dream. A trav­eller through many other lands, Has come to Love this prairie land, Golden Saskatchew­an. They told us that the prairies are so cold, With clouds of wind blown dust, But ?tis from this dust that we earn our bread, And to dust we shall all re­turn, I have come to Love this prairie land, Golden Saskatchew­an. I hear the mu­sic of the strings of the wind, A sooth­ing melody far from the chok­ing pol­lu­tion, And creepy noises of so many other parts of the world, So I have come to Love this prairie land, Golden Saskatchew­an.

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