Sandra Ford

Basil

Sandra Ford Basil, born Sandra Lee Ford on November 4, 1948, lived a life like the rest of us: shaped as much by circumstance as by choice, filled with unexpected turns, unfulfilled dreams, small pleasures, disappointments, and moments of genuine happiness. Her life was not always the one she imagined for herself; few are. Yet in the ordinary business of living, she left impressions on people that she may never have known and certainly never fully appreciated.

Sandra was preceded in death by Charles Oscar Tate III, the father of her daughters, and her husband, Robert Carl Basil; her beloved grandparents, Effie Blanch (Reckner) and David Dewey Sluss. She is survived by her daughters, Amanda Tate and Rebekah Tate Manfredonia.

Sandy was a naturally beautiful woman, although she rarely accepted the compliments. Most remembered her striking green eyes, dark brown hair, dazzling smile, and fiery, stubborn personality. Happiness did not always come easily to her, and she was often more serious than lighthearted. But when she laughed — truly laughed — her eyes sparkled, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Those moments of unguarded joy, however few and far between, were precious to those who loved her.

She enjoyed a long career in residential real estate, and she genuinely loved the challenge of connecting her clients with houses that best met their needs. She took great pride in her professionalism, her ethics, and the trust she earned from clients and colleagues. Sandy believed in doing right by the people who relied upon her, and they liked and respected her for it.

She loved the beach more than anything; it was truly her happy place. In her younger years, she could be found stretched out in the sunshine, generously slathered in baby oil, and cultivating a tan the color of strong tea. Her happiest years were those in Ocean City, New Jersey, first as a summer resident and then the short and magical years of year-round living.

Sandy cultivated her style and sense of decorating through reading, watching This Old House and teaching herself the process of renovating homes. Her daughters remember Sandy building scaffolds to wallpaper and paint through the night and finding her asleep on a pile of drop cloths. She enjoyed a perfectly arranged room (even if no one was allowed to walk on the white carpet or sit on the white sofa), a flourishing garden, or a work of art. She was a gifted gardener who could coax flowers and vegetables from the earth with enviable ease.

Christmas was a special time, and Sandy spent days decorating the house with heirlooms that her daughters enjoy to this day. A single white candle in every window, greenery and bows, and a thoughtfully dressed Christmas tree created a cozy and nostalgic feel to the holidays. Never one to keep a secret, she couldn’t wrap gifts without previewing them to her daughters and then wrapping them anyway.

Sandy enjoyed music, especially when played loudly and repeatedly. If asked if she preferred the Beatles or Motown, she chose Motown every time. She loved live music, having seen the Four Tops multiple times (and being told by an usher to stop dancing and sit down already) and once got a great contact high at a Doobie Brothers show in the early 80s. One of her happiest experiences was seeing the Bee Gees in Las Vegas at their famous “One Night Only” concert. She was in the audience when the historic show was filmed, and she watched it often to relive the joy she felt in the arena.

In her younger years, she hosted Bridge clubs and beat the best. Sandy often laughed at how bad her partner was and how frustrated she became when he didn’t pick up on the subtle cues partners exchanged to strategize. She was a formidable Scrabble opponent and loved to trounce anyone in Backgammon. During the boom of video arcades in the late 70s, Sandy found herself addicted to PacMan and Space Invaders. In her last years, her love of Scrabble translated to Words with Friends, and she was an avid player until her final days.

Sandy relished a cold Michelob, smoked with enthusiasm for much of her life, and felt the pull to the dark, smoky dungeons of Atlantic City’s casinos. Her uncanny ability to find winning slot machines was a sixth sense, and she often hit multiple jackpots in one sitting. She once had such a hot machine that after paying her for the better part of an hour, the casino staff came over and took it offline – but not before she had already cleaned up.

At 40, she returned to school and earned an associate degree from the Community College of Baltimore County, an accomplishment of which she was justifiably proud. She particularly loved art history, and on a trip to New York City to see Barry Manilow at Radio City Music Hall, she stood amazed before a Monet and marveled at what she had only seen in a textbook.

Sandy’s independence was hard-won. Her childhood was marked by upheaval and uncertainty, and she learned early that she could not always depend upon others. Her grandmother, Effie, was a source of enduring love and security. The years she spent living with her grandmother were among the happiest of her childhood. Surrounded by the love of her grandparents and her young uncles, she thrived in that warm little rowhouse on Union Avenue in Hampden. Sandy often wistfully recalled the late afternoons when her grandfather would walk with her to the Avenue for ice cream at Woolworth’s. She fondly remembered their day trips to Sandy Point State Park, which was a summer tradition. Fast-forward 20 years as a young mother facing divorce, Sandy returned to Effie’s home with her own two small daughters. The little rowhouse on Union Avenue offered once again a warm and safe refuge for the first big transition in her adult life.

Sandy was not a perfect woman, nor did she live a perfect life. She was intelligent, beautiful, capable, complicated, and often difficult. She had dreams that went unfulfilled, relationships that remained unresolved, and pleasures that made her days her own. She was, in these ways, much like the rest of us.

Those who knew her will remember different things: the flowers she grew, the Christmas candles in her windows, the sound of a favorite song played one more time, a winning Scrabble board, the thrill of a casino jackpot, the friendly manner in which she managed house hunters, her smile, and the pleasure she took in her gardens. Her daughters will remember the woman behind those moments, in all her beautiful complexity.

To view Sandra's photo gallery and leave the family online condolences please visit www.peacefulalternatives.com