Linda Shanes

Linda Shanes was a woman who worked hard, loved fiercely, and lived every bit of her 67 years on her own terms. Her story came to its final chapter on September 29, 2025, at HSHS St. John’s Hospital in Springfield, IL, but it began long before, on April 15, 1958, in St. Charles, MO. Born to Leo E. “Jack” & Evelyn (Stokes) Stoltz, Linda grew up surrounded by the kind of small-town magic that shapes a childhood. Her brother, Lee, was her sidekick through it all, her constant companion in every adventure. Together, they explored every corner of the places their family called home.

In St. Charles, there were beagle pups, alleyway games, and walks to the five-and-dime for candy or to the A&W stand for a root beer float. In Bridgeport, the country life took hold: chickens, rabbits, a milk cow, and ponies to ride. And when the family settled in Palestine, the days were filled with bike rides and pinball games at the local restaurant. Those early years gave her a deep love for freedom, a streak of independence, and a heart that always had room for more.

As she grew older, Linda carried that same spirit into adulthood. She was a product of the 1970s in every sense: bold, spirited, and determined to carve her own path. She worked her tail off, often juggling two or three jobs at once, always finding a way to provide for her family. Whether managing restaurants, working in hospitality, or lending a hand wherever she was needed, helping people wasn’t just something she did; it was who she was. She was the one you could call in the middle of the night, and she’d show up ready to help, no questions asked.

Linda’s home was a revolving door of kindness. She took in grandkids when they needed her, helped raise children who weren’t her own, and looked after neighbors who couldn’t do for themselves. She had a soft spot for the overlooked and a fierce drive to speak up for them when no one else would. Though her tongue could sometimes be sharp, her heart was always generous, and her presence filled every room. She gave people a hard time, but it was always her way of saying she loved them. Beneath that feisty exterior was a deep tenderness that touched everyone who truly knew her.

Outside was where she felt most alive. She had an undeniable green thumb and could coax beauty out of the soil like it was second nature. Her yard was always full of flowers, vegetables, and fruit, and when harvest came, her kitchen turned into a whirlwind of canning jars and homemade preserves. She loved walking nature trails, wandering through craft fairs and flea markets, and collecting the kinds of treasures that spoke to her: glass, crystals, angels, and anything a little offbeat or interesting. Her collection told her story: colorful, eclectic, and entirely her own.

But what she loved most was time with her grandkids. Those were her happiest days: blowing bubbles in the garden while she worked, taking spontaneous car rides just for fun, playing dress-up, or simply being together. She didn’t need grand plans or fancy outings. Being “Grandma” was enough. She turned simple moments into lasting memories, and her grandkids will forever remember the laughter, the love, and the sense that with her, they were home.

Life wasn’t easy for Linda. She faced more than her share of hardships, yet she met each one with the same grit and stubborn determination that had carried her from the start. She refused to let her health define her and chose instead to keep living as fully and freely as she could. Her strength wasn’t loud or showy; it was the kind that quietly endured.

Linda had a way of planting things that lasted — not just in her garden, but in people. The moments she planted in our hearts have become a garden of memory, blooming with the beauty of a life well-lived.

She is survived by her children, Dovie Davis and Ashlay Davis; by her grandchildren, Zon Stephens III, Abbigail Stephens, Maura Davis, Nataleigh Davis, Caden Poorman, and Trenton Sexton; and by her great-grandchildren, D’or Davis, Auron Williams, and Luna Freya Stephens. She also leaves behind her brothers, Leo Stoltz Jr. and Robert Stoltz; her sisters, Pattie Murphy, Barbie Stoltz, and Mary McKinley; several nieces and nephews; and her dear friend and caregiver, Catt Kline. She was preceded in death by her parents, Jack & Evelyn Stoltz.

Linda was cremated, and the Goodwine Funeral Home in Palestine has been assisting the family at this time.