Connie Coppola

Connie Coppola died, or more precisely, her body died, on July 28, 2023, at the age of 74. She crossed over to the other side peacefully at her daughter's home in Denver, Colorado, and will be lovingly remembered by her husband of 13 years, Roger, her daughters Caroll and Jackie, her son Michael, and everyone else who knew her. Connie was born Constance Jean Kingston on April 25, 1949, in Belmont, California. She was the third of six children of Thelma and Sheldon Kingston, the first and second being Jim and Caroll, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth being Stanley, Michael, and Claudia. When Connie was a budding teenager, her father packed up the household and moved the family to Charleston, West Virginia, where he continued to run his own insurance agency. Connie attended Concord College in Athens, West Virginia, where she met her future husband, Michael Coppola, a renowned baseball player who played third base on the school's baseball team. According to Connie, Mike was very popular and quite the prankster. He gave everyone that he knew a pet name, some of which cannot be repeated in polite society. They married a year later and moved in with Mike's parents in Port Reading, New Jersey. Then came, Caroll, the apple of Connie's eye, who, according to Connie, spoke her first word at a very early age. Whether that word was "ma-ma" or "da-da" or "STP" is still unclear. As explanation, one of Mike's first jobs was in sales for an automotive performance racing company, which provided Mike with a company-owned car chock-full of STP® decal stickers inside and out. Apparently, one of those stickers ended up on Caroll's baby car seat, to which Caroll would often point while looking up at her parents with an inquisitive brow. The rest, as they say, is history. Then came a move to Fords, New Jersey, then a son, Michael, and then another move, that time to Warren, New Jersey, and then another daughter, Jackie. Connie adored her children, and they adored her right back. Even after they flew the coop, Connie spoke by phone to Caroll, Michael, and Jackie pretty much every day. In Warren, Connie and Mike became even more involved with their large group of friends, including Bob and Linda Cignarella, Don and Carol O'Connell, and Harold and Mary Lee Garrett, just to mention a few. Mike and Bob were particularly close, and spent a lot of time together on the golf course and in cigar shops smoking and talking "stogie" with other cigar aficionados. Many of Connie and Mike's social events with their friends involved golf or tennis, and sometimes skiing. Connie often spoke about the "Garrett Tennis Open," an Invitational really, in which the Coppolas, the Cignarellas, the O'Connells, and the Garretts regularly competed. As the name implies, the tournament was played on Harold and Mary Lee's tennis court. The rumor about the kids climbing over the tennis court fence to spend more time with their parents was surely exaggerated. Just a rumor, really, hardly worth mentioning. Whatever happened, the parents must have done something right because all the kids turned out to be strong, good-looking, and above average. Connie cherished her two granddaughters, Micayla and Madison, and her three grandsons, Conner, Charlie, and Mikey. She spent hours playing games with them and attended their dance performances and sports events. She sparked their imaginations by reading them long-ago and far-away stories, listened with genuine interest to their own stories, and gave them real-world advice and unwavering support. Her presence in their lives and the impact that she had on them will stay with them forever. And she cherished her two dogs, Cindi Lu and Cody. Wherever she went, they went, right on her heels. Whenever she left the house without them, they would pad over to the front door, flop down, and wait patiently for her to return. And when she did, they would jump, spin, and bark with great excitement. The high point of their day was beddy-bye time and sleeping at Connie's side. Connie's biggest passions were cooking and hosting dinner parties for family and friends. She was never happier than when cooking. To Connie, cooking was pure joy. When cooking alone, Connie would often hum a happy tune as she scurried about the kitchen. She was completely unconflicted in the moment and utterly at home in the world. When cooking with others, Connie would chat up a storm and enjoy herself to the full. No matter what the outcome, she and the others always had a great memory or story to tell. Throwing a dinner party is a kind gesture and speaks volumes about Connie's priorities. She greeted her guests with a warm and welcoming hug. She delighted everyone and made the evening unforgettable. She touched so many people in her life and gave endlessly to those around her. She seemed to light up when she performed an act of kindness. Her spirit did not die. The spirit survives the death of the body and returns in some new strange disguise and under a new name. A loving soul like Connie continues forever, to live and be happy all over again. A memorial service is planned for Connie but the date has yet to be announced. Please make any charitable donations to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.