Lorraine Tapke — A Life Rooted in Faith, Family, and Gratitude

Born in 1937 in Jersey City, Lorraine Tapke grew up during a time shaped by war, resilience, and close-knit neighborhoods where everyone knew one another.

She was the youngest of three children, born many years after her older siblings. Her sister, Audrey, was already sixteen when Lorraine came into the world, and over time became far more than a sibling — she became Lorraine’s caregiver, protector, and constant companion.

When Lorraine was just four years old, her mother passed away after battling Cancer and Tuberculosis. Her father worked long hours and was often absent, leaving Audrey to raise her through much of childhood.

“She took me everywhere,” Lorraine shared with a smile.

Even after Audrey married a soldier returning from war, Lorraine remained closely woven into their lives, always by her sister’s side.

Growing up during World War II left lasting impressions. Lorraine remembers walking through her neighborhood and seeing service flags displayed in family windows — white banners with blue stars bordered in red, representing loved ones serving in the military.

For children growing up during that era, those flags became part of everyday life — quiet reminders of sacrifice, hope, and families waiting for someone to come home.

As Lorraine shared this memory during her portrait session, her daughter paused and said softly, “I didn’t know that.”

It was one of those beautiful moments where history stopped feeling distant and became deeply personal.

Before moving west, Lorraine worked in secretarial roles in New York, building a life on the East Coast before her family eventually relocated to California.

Together, Lorraine and her husband raised four children. In 1976, the family moved to the Sacramento area after friends invited them to manage an apartment building in California.

Lorraine currently lives in Antelope with her family, surrounded by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Faith has remained one of the strongest threads throughout her life.

She speaks openly about gratitude, often thanking Jesus for the life she was given — not because it was without hardship, but because it was filled with love.

When asked her secret to living a long and happy life, Lorraine smiled and said:

“Eat chocolate.”

And then added that consistency matters — showing up and taking care of things day by day makes life easier in the end.

During her portrait session, Lorraine held a treasured sepia-toned photograph of herself and Audrey. As she looked down at it, her expression softened.

“I’m going to get teary-eyed,” she said quietly.

Not from sadness.

But from gratitude.

The kind that comes from a life deeply loved.

Edmond Wilfred Jones

(Fine Art Portraits of Older Adults brought to you by Aileen Savage at Golden Age Portraits)

Introducing Edmond Wilfred Jones — known to most as Bugs — is 92 years old, “going on his 93rd year,” as he likes to say. He’s the kind of person you remember long after you’ve met him: warm, open, full of stories, and always wearing a smile that reaches his eyes.

Born on December 7, 1933, in Louisiana, Bugs’ early life was shaped by change and resilience. When he was six years old, his father left. His mother later remarried, and Bugs moved to Mississippi, where he continued growing into the adaptable, thoughtful man he would become.

At just 17 years old, he joined the United States Air Force, beginning a 21-year military career. He rose to the rank of Technical Sergeant (TSgt), E-6, and served with pride. During his service, he earned the distinction of Expert with the M16 rifle, the only one to do so in his flight of 54 airmen. An achievement at the time and one he still admits — with humility and honesty — that he’s proud of.

While stationed in Japan, Bugs met the woman who would become the love of his life. They met one night in a bar, and as he puts it, from that night on, they were together for the next 65 years. The rest, he says, is history.

They were married when Bugs was 24 years old and went on to build a life rooted in love, partnership, and devotion. Together they raised two daughters and later welcomed two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Bugs often says he was simply “the luckiest man ever” — lucky to find his wife so young and lucky to share such a long life with her.

After his wife passed away five years ago, Bugs chose connection over isolation. Rather than retreat inward, he leaned into the world around him — seeking conversation, music, laughter, and human connection.

Today, Bugs is a familiar face at Stoney’s Rockin’ Rodeo in Sacramento, where he goes every Friday night to sing karaoke, meet new people, and enjoy the energy of being around others. He doesn’t drink or smoke— he just genuinely enjoys people. He loves taking photos with friends and strangers alike, and wherever he goes, people seem drawn to him.

Bugs is known for small but meaningful gestures. He passes out little goodies with handwritten messages and his phone number attached, often including reminders to stay away from smoking and vaping. He enjoys performing magic tricks, delighting in the wonder of the moment while keeping the secrets to himself. “It’s no fun if you tell, it spoils the trick,” he says.

When asked what makes him smile, Bugs answers honestly: attention, appreciation, and feeling liked. He laughs about it, openly acknowledging his love for connection and self-expression. He simply says he’s “a different kind of person.”

His advice for living a long and happy life is grounded and sincere:

Do no harm. Don’t stress as much as possible. Apologize when you make a mistake. Forgive — but don’t forget.

Holding onto anger, he believes, only harms yourself. It’s YOU that carries the grudge.

Bugs has traveled the world through his work, lived many chapters, and often says he’s had “a life you just cannot believe.” After retiring from the Air Force, he continued working in government roles before fully retiring at age 78.

Today, he lives with one of his daughters, still drives, and remains impressively tech-savvy — using modern technology to stay connected, organized, and independent. He values staying engaged with life, learning new things, and showing up fully in the present.

When Bugs says he’s “on his journey to eternity now,” he doesn’t mean waiting for something later. He means now — choosing joy, connection, music, and meaning in everyday moments. For him, eternity isn’t something that starts after life. It’s something you live into, one moment at a time.

Bugs is a man who leaves a mark — not because he tries to, but because he genuinely shows up as himself. With a twinkle in his eye, a ready smile, and a story worth hearing, he reminds us that every life holds wisdom, and every connection matters.

Golden Age Portraits

Preserving stories that deserve to be remembered

WORDS OF APPRECIATION FROM BUGS TO ME:

“Aileen, l love those pictures of me more than any others I have ever seen!!!  You are truly a professional photographer !!!! I’m so grateful for having met you.”

A Life of Faith, Service, and Showing Up for Others

Martha Devitt

I’ve known Marty for most of my life.

When I was a little girl, she used to come into my mom’s restaurant. Her son Rob was in my class growing up, so I got to know him through school, CCD, and church. Because of that, Marty has long been a familiar presence in my life and in our community.

But knowing someone and truly understanding their story are two very different things.

Maybe it’s because I studied psychology, but I’ve always been fascinated by people’s lives—what shaped them, what they went through, and how those experiences turned them into the person they are today. As Marty approaches her 80th birthday later this year, I was genuinely excited to finally sit down with her and hear her stories in her own words.

Marty is someone people notice right away. She can be loud at times, and she’s very direct about what she thinks. But beneath that bold personality is someone with a very big heart.

Marty doesn’t just tell people she cares about them.

She shows it.

After my mom passed away, Marty wrote me a heartfelt note about how much she loved her and brought food to our home while we were grieving. It was a quiet act of kindness that meant more than she probably realized.

As we talked, I began to see how deeply service and compassion have shaped her entire life.

Marty was born on December 28, 1946, in Long Beach, California, the youngest of four children. Today she is the only surviving sibling, but she loved them all dearly.

Growing up, Marty spent summers with her grandparents in South Dakota—memories that remain meaningful to her even today.

Her family placed a strong emphasis on education and achievement. Her father attended Georgetown University, served in the Navy, and later became a lawyer. Her mother attended the University of Minnesota and also worked in federal government positions. She was also involved in political work and helped with presidential campaigns.

The two met while working in Washington, D.C., and although Marty described them as complete opposites, she said they truly loved each other.

Because of this, Marty grew up surrounded by people who held influential roles in their communities.

She’ll tell you about that history with a certain pride—and understandably so.

But when I asked her what it was like growing up around prominent people, she explained that titles and status never impressed her the way people might assume. What mattered most to her was whether someone was simply a genuine and kind person.

That perspective stayed with her throughout her life.

From a young age, Marty developed a strong sense of independence. She was academically driven as well—so much so that she skipped a grade and graduated from high school at just 17 years old.

When it came time to think about college, she didn’t wait for someone else to guide her path. She visited colleges on her own before eventually choosing Dominican College, where she studied economics.

But Marty was searching for something deeper than academics alone—a sense of meaning and purpose.

That search eventually led her to enter the Dominican convent, where she spent time exploring religious life and deepening her faith. Marty actually entered the convent twice in her life—leaving once, returning again, and eventually choosing a different path.

Even so, faith remained an important part of who she was and how she lived.

In 1982, she moved to Napa, California, where she has lived for more than four decades.

Marty went on to earn her Master’s degree in Special Education and became a teacher working with children with disabilities. Her dedication to her students was recognized when she received the Teacher of the Year Award from the Napa County Office of Education.

Throughout her life, Marty found many ways to serve others. In addition to teaching, she also spent time working as an EMT, continuing a lifelong pattern of showing up for people in moments when they needed help most.

But perhaps the most defining chapter of Marty’s life has been the children she welcomed into her home.

Over the years, Marty fostered 35 children, opening her doors to those who needed stability, care, and love.

The first of those children was Rob.

When Marty first saw him, she remembers thinking to herself, “I think I’m in love,” because she thought he was absolutely adorable and he immediately touched her heart.

Rob came into Marty’s life just before his third birthday. After spending a year in her classroom, she became his foster parent and welcomed him into her home shortly after his fourth birthday. By that time, he had already faced enormous challenges early in life. He had experienced abuse and malnourishment and was still nonverbal. He is deaf and autistic and has cerebral palsy. As an adult today, he also manages diabetes.

But Marty never saw him as someone defined by those challenges.

She saw his potential.

She believed in him fiercely and advocated for him every step of the way. Rather than keeping him separated from other students, Marty worked hard to ensure that Rob could be included in regular classrooms whenever possible—surrounded by peers and given the opportunity to grow alongside them.

With the help of a dedicated student aide and Marty’s unwavering support, Rob continued to move forward.

At one point, it took him nearly fifteen years to complete his associate degree.

But he never gave up.

When Marty told me that story, she laughed and asked,

“Would you stick with something for fifteen years like that?”

I had to admit that I probably wouldn’t.

But Rob did.

And that perseverance is something Marty has always been incredibly proud of.

When I visited their home recently, I had the chance to spend some time with Rob myself. I brought my mom’s dog, Gracie, with me, and Rob absolutely lit up when he saw her. When it came time for photos, Rob happily joined Marty for a portrait together, smiling beside her.

Today, Rob remains one of the greatest joys in Marty’s life. In the nearly 38 years they’ve been family, she told me they have spent only about ten days apart.

That kind of devotion says everything.

For the past five years, Rob has found his own way to give back to the community. Each week, he and Marty collect cans and bottles and bring them to the recycling center. With help from neighbors and friends who save their recyclables for them, Rob has raised more than $8,000—and he has donated every single penny to charity.

His weekly efforts are a simple but powerful sign of Rob’s commitment. As Marty put it, “He truly blows me away.”

As we continued talking, Marty reflected on some of the moments in her own life that meant the most to her. She spoke about how much it meant when her family showed up for her during important milestones—like the day she received her master’s degree and they came to celebrate her graduation.

Those moments of love and support stayed with her.

Feeling deeply supported by the people she loved made a lasting impression, and it shaped the way she lives her life today.

In many ways, Marty has spent the rest of her life doing the same for others—showing up for them, supporting them, and celebrating the moments that matter. She even showed up to the grand reopening of my photography studio, something that meant a great deal to me and is just one small example of the way she quietly supports the people in her life.

When I asked Marty what brings her the most joy in her life today, her answer was simple:

“My family.”

And when I asked what makes her smile, she said:

“My son… and babies.”

When I asked her if she had any advice for living a long and happy life, she laughed and said something that felt very much like Marty:

“Just be happy. It’s a choice. You have to choose to be happy—and forgive and give.”

When I asked what kind of legacy she hopes to leave behind, her answer was just as sincere.

She told me she doesn’t care about recognition or whether anyone remembers her name.

What matters most to her is knowing that God worked through her to help other people.

If her actions made someone’s life better—even in a small way—then that is enough.

Listening to her say that, it became clear that Marty’s life has never been about attention or praise.

It has been about service.

About faith.

And about showing up for the people who need it most.

And I can say from my own experience that she has done exactly that.

Marty’s life is a reminder that the greatest legacy a person can leave behind isn’t fame or recognition—it’s the difference they make in the lives of others.

Because in the end, a life like Marty’s isn’t defined by what someone says.

It’s defined by how they show up for people.