Vickie S. Little, 66, died May 16, 2020, following a valiant battle with lung cancer. Friends may gather for an outdoor memorial service at 2 p.m., Saturday, June 6, in Green Lawn Cemetery, 83rd and Hillcrest Road, Kansas City (Gate 2).
Vickie was born to Robert and Senora Little Oct. 23, 1953, in Kansas City. She graduated from Northeast High School and the University of Missouri Kansas City, where she studied acting. She was preceded in death by her parents, brothers Robert and William (Bill), dear friend Tony Johnson and many pets whom she adored.
Following a long career with Theatre for Young America (TYA), Vickie most recently worked at the Waldo Branch of the Kansas City Public Library. But she was best known as an actor, playwright, lyricist, poet, novelist, political commentator, operations manager, human questioner and friend. She created memorable moments onstage, and her sensitive, witty writing captured the human condition in compelling, magical ways.
Vickie’s passing is mourned by friends at TYA, InPlay, Westport Center for the Arts, Union Cemetery Historical Society, KC Melting Pot, the Writers’ Desk, the Kansas City Public Library and DST. She will be remembered and missed by high school and college friends, theatre friends, comic book friends, library friends, factory friends, random friends, best friends and furry friends, including her beloved Stuart.
Memorial contributions may be made to Kansas City Pet Project or Kansas City Spay and Neuter.
“Mortal Thoughts”
By Vickie S. Little
Aug. 18, 2019
We rarely count
Our lives in seconds
But in expectations
Anticipations
And remembrances
Our failures dwell
Success flies by
Some dreams remain
Cocooned in amber
Golden in our hand
Which might not
Break
Nor even crack
The resined orb
We number days
By faith enduring
Or hopes fleeting
The seminal
The moving
The dreading
The gleaming
The joining
By friendships burnished
Or deeply tarnished
By love’s fresh flush
That first kiss
Which lingers
On our lips
And takes our breath away
We quantify love’s waxing
Qualify its waning
And that
Which whispers woes
Of love gone by
Or know forever
In the heartbeat
Of one who soothes
Our brief
And borrowed time
We tally time by births
And life renewed
And in our imagining
Far flung
And heady futures
To behold
Beyond our own
We are the sum
We are our total
Exist but in a fraction
To lust for more
Beyond our measure
As on an abacus
We slide the beads
Subtract each loss
And all our tears
Multiply each joy
Add our laughter
Then slide the beads again
To count death too
In the ticking
Of this clock
Each hand tocks
Away its seconds
Ticks--
The intake of a breath
Tocks--
The exhale of a breath
And within
That anxious space
There all mortality lies
