Jody Ross

Joanne Mary Rooney Ross — known to everyone who loved her as Jody — passed away on August 14, 2026. She leaves behind a life so full, so generous, and so vividly lived that no single page could ever hold all of it. This is only the start of her story.

Jody was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan, to Katherine (Schlick) and Joseph Moreland, who died when she was just three months old. Katherine later married Robert Rooney, whom Jody would know, and love, as her father for her entire life. The bond between them was unmistakable — they shared the same easy way with people, the same gift for making a friend out of nearly anyone. Jody grew up in Milwood and attended St. Joseph Catholic Church. She also developed an early and lasting love of Gull Lake, where she made many lifelong friends and created memories that stayed with her throughout her life.

She was the oldest of nine children, and from that very first place in the family, she became something more than the eldest sister — she became its center. She was the one who kept everyone connected: the sibling who showed up for every celebration, who understood exactly what was needed during the hard seasons, and who had a way of bringing understanding to a family as big and full of life as theirs.

Ask anyone who knew her, and they'll tell you Jody was extraordinary — sharp, strong-willed, and never afraid to say exactly what she thought. She could debate politics with anyone brave enough to engage, and in Jody's mind, she was never wrong. She was organized, particular, and had a big personality. But underneath that formidable exterior was the truest core of who she was: empathy, kindness, and love. It wasn't always what you heard first from her. It was what you felt, every time, once you knew her.

Jody grew up in the 1960s, coming of age alongside some of the most defining moments in American history, and it shaped her for good. She developed a deep love of this country's history and a fierce belief in personal responsibility, in citizenship, and in giving of yourself to others. Her interest in politics went back to her younger years, when she volunteered for a group supporting John F. Kennedy during his presidential campaign, sometimes staying up all night working on projects. That belief in responsibility became her life's work. She built a career first in higher education, teaching and mentoring students and colleagues as a professor at Western Michigan and Michigan State University, and later in public health — writing and reviewing grants, designing programs and systems, and working with leaders at every level of government to fight for the simple idea that everyone deserves great healthcare. She lobbied, she educated, she built coalitions with hundreds of leaders across the country, many of whom became lifelong friends. But true to who she was, Jody always said her best work happened closest to the ground — with communities, with people, for people.

That work took her all over the country, from statehouses to small towns to Alaska. Wherever she went, she made time to find the historical sites, to meet the locals, to hear their stories. She traveled with friends to battlefields and followed the Lewis and Clark Trail, and she especially loved visiting Washington, D.C., where history, art, museums, and politics came together. And she never came home without a stop at the finest gift shop she could find — linen hand towels, fine soaps and lotions, the best stationery. She kept a special drawer of these treasures at home, and there was nothing she loved more than opening it for a friend or family member and sending them off with something beautiful, just because.

For all her travel, home was where Jody's heart truly lived. Her house was impeccable — but more than that, it was her: walls of favorite artwork chosen for the art itself, shelves of pottery and glass gifted by the people she loved, beautiful linens, and photographs of her family, not scattered, but each given its own special place. Jody never cared for clutter; she cared for order, and everything in her home reflected it: clean, curated, and beautiful. Family members could practically smell the cleaning products when they think of her house. She surrounded herself with color; orange, green, royal blue, yellow, white, red, bright pink — the brightest, happiest colors she could find, because that was Jody: she wanted to see life, give life, and experience life at full, vivid volume.

She was a ferocious reader, always with a book in hand and always eager to pass it on, trading titles and opinions with the small circle of close friends who read right alongside her, a tradition that gave her as much joy as almost anything else. She loved sports, she loved the news, she loved a good debate about either one. She loved Notre Dame football Saturdays, often making chili and visiting her parents to watch the games with them and her brothers. She loved golf, both playing it and watching it on television, often with a tournament playing in the background while she cleaned. She loved musicals, especially Jesus Christ Superstar, which she saw many times, and Fiddler on the Roof. And she loved people — deeply, loyally, for decades. Friends from childhood, from Gull Lake, from academia, from her years at Bronson Hospital, Western Michigan, Michigan State, and from a career's worth of work in public health filled her life and her phone book in equal measure. There are far too many of those friendships to list here, but they know who they are, and they know what they meant to her. There were also the friends who gathered with her at Harvey's after work, friendships that became part of the fabric of her life.

Jody married Chuck Ross, and together they raised two daughters, Mindy and Kate, with summers spent with their dad in Texas. Jody made sure her girls always had a strong, loving bond with their father and with their grandparents, Grandpa Ross and Grandma Tilly, whose love and support she was forever grateful for — Grandpa Ross especially, quietly there in the background making sure Jody and the girls were happy and safe. Jody was a passionate mother and took great pride in sharing the things she loved with her daughters, including museums and history. She also had strong opinions about how her girls should dress, even when her ideas about style did not always match theirs. Her daughters even joined her in downtown parades, where Jody would dress up as different characters.

But if you asked Jody about the greatest love and joy of her life, there was only one answer: her grandchildren. She was over the moon from the moment each one arrived, and in her eyes, not another child in the world could quite measure up. She shared books and poetry with them, read to them at night in bed, took them to sports tournaments, and loved talking with them about politics and the things happening in their lives. In her later years, she treasured every photo and video she could get her hands on: Andrew's marriage and his path through flight school, Hannah's marriage and her becoming a nurse, videos of Hannah's boys that Jody watched again and again. Her granddaughters Kate and Maggie lived just a few streets away, and Jody could not get enough of them — tennis matches, shopping trips, lake vacations, walking the beach and looking for shells, sharing her love of history and politics, and countless ordinary afternoons that were really just an excuse to sit and listen to how their lives were unfolding. Her daughter Mindy stayed close by her side through it all, while her daughter Kate, though across the country, was never far from her mother's thoughts or her heart. And in her final years, Jody added a title she loved just as much as any other: great-grandmother, to Tristan, Winston, and her newest great-grandson, Will, born just three short weeks before she passed. If she didn't receive enough pictures of the great-grandchildren every day, someone was likely to hear about it.

Jody Ross lived exactly the way she wanted the world to look, bright, warm, generous, and full. She gave her intellect to her work, her loyalty to her friends, her heart to her family, and her love, in her own unmistakable way, to absolutely everyone lucky enough to know her. She will be remembered not only for everything she built and fought for, but for the thousand small, beautiful things she did along the way, a gift from the special drawer, a book passed to a friend, a photo of a grandchild pulled up with pride, a political button or historical map tucked away for safekeeping, a sweatshirt worn with pride, a Notre Dame game on the television, or a beach walk spent searching for shells. That was Jody. That was love, her way.

In her final three and a half years, Jody made a full life at StoryPoint. Her apartment there carried the same spirit as every home before it, walls covered in her beloved maps and art, arranged with care by her daughter Mindy so that even in a new home, everything still felt unmistakably like Jody. She was known there, too, for a certain signature look: a crisp, perfectly pressed shirt paired with one of her favorite all-cotton sweatshirts, each proudly bearing the name of a college where one of her children, grandchildren, nieces, or nephews had gone. The whole community came to know and love her for exactly that — her sweatshirts, her pressed collars, her impeccable look, never a detail out of place.

Those years also gave Jody a whole new circle of friendships, capped off every Friday by happy hours she looked forward to all week, surrounded by friends from inside StoryPoint and out. And in the caregivers, aides, and staff who cared for her there, Jody found the very thing she had spent her career fighting for everyone else to have — compassionate, dignified healthcare, and she felt it, deeply, every single day. To the entire StoryPoint team: thank you for loving Jody the way you did, and for giving her a final chapter every bit as full of warmth and life as every one that came before it.

Joanne Ross of Kalamazoo, age 77, died on August 14, 2026. She was preceded in death by her parents, Robert and Katherine Rooney; brother, Andrew Rooney; and grandson, Samuel Ross. Surviving are her daughters: Mindy (Alex) Ketels and Kathryn (Seth) Parmenter; grandchildren: Andrew (Alexandra) Ross, Hannah (Caleb) Briegel, Sam Ross, Henry Ross, Mindy Ross, Kate (Tom) Van Riper, Maggie Ketels; great-grandkids: Tristan, Winston, and Will; siblings: Robert (Julie) Rooney, Susan (David) Betz, Kevin Rooney, Timothy (Vickie) Rooney, Elizabeth Ruttenberg, Emmett Rooney, and John (Laura) Rooney. Each sibling carries a different, specific memory of what Jody gave them, because she loved every one of them in her own particular way. That same gift extended outward to her nieces and nephews; Damian, Zachary, Patty, Liz, Jackie, Tom, Matt, Anne, Sarah, and Sophie — many of whom she drew into close, lasting relationships of their own.

Please join us for a Life Story Visitation on Friday, August 21, from 5-7 PM at Betzler Life Story Funeral Homes, 6080 Stadium Drive, Kalamazoo (269) 375-2900 where food, drinks, and stories can be shared. A Prayer Service will be held at 7 PM. Guests are encouraged to wear their favorite sweatshirt in honor of Jody. Celebrate Jody’s life online by sharing your favorite stories and photos on her dedicated webpage at BetzlerLifeStory.com. Memorial contributions may be made to The Gagie School.