Appreciation: Sandy Hatfield's contributions to Tucson were many

I remember the day Sandra Soto Hatfield first came to Tucson.

It was during a still-too-warm September in 1986. She and her husband, C. Donald Hatfield, were in the Old Pueblo for the announcement that he would be the new editor/publisher of the Tucson Citizen.

Though a sophisticated world traveller, Sandy had deep roots in their hometown of Huntington, West Virginia, where she died Sept. 13 after a long illness. She was born in West Virginia and went to Marshall University in Huntington. Don had been editor and publisher of the Huntington Herald-Dispatch and Sandy was deeply involved with the community there.

But when he accepted the Citizen job, she left her friends, her sister, flowing rivers and four distinct seasons to come to a strange-looking desert.

I was working at the Citizen and the day the Hatfields first arrived, I got to drive Sandy around. It was ostensibly to look the town over, maybe sniff out a neighborhood or two.

Instead, she wanted to know about live theater here. And about the symphony. What were the bookstores like? She knew of the University of Arizona’s Poetry Center and wondered which poets were expected to read that year. She wanted me to tell her about the museums and galleries, the city’s diversity, the politics, the people. She also wanted to know what I was reading. I said I was re-reading Robert Penn Warren’s “All the King’s Men.” Of course, she had read it. We talked about the book and the conversation segued into Warren’s poetry and the state of politics in our country. She never spoke to let you know what she knew; rather, she wanted a real conversation. It was thrilling to ride in the car with her that day.

Sandy’s curiosity was insatiable, her intellect impressive, her countenance humble and graceful.

When they settled here, she wasted no time getting involved. She sat on the board of Arizona Theatre Company. She became involved with the Tucson Symphony Orchestra, joined the Tucson Literary Club, and was often seen at theaters and art openings and concerts around town.

She also helped raise money and awareness for the Diamond’s Children’s Center, volunteered for the University of Arizona’s Children’s Research Center, the University Libraries, the Tucson Community Food Bank — the list goes on.

“She was submerged in the community,” says Stanley Feldman, former Arizona Supreme Court Justice and a good friend of the Hatfields.

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“She was always trying to work for the good of the community and everyone in it.”

She was busy. In demand. But here’s the thing about Sandy: She overflowed with compassion and always made time for others. When my mother died, she came over with an orchid in hand, asking what she could do. If you needed advice, she gave it gently. And if you were hungry for conversations that were rich and intimate, she was there.

“If she was your friend, she would do anything for you,” says Feldman.

Sandy was beautiful, petite with huge brown eyes that would look directly at you when she spoke.

She was also graceful, and gracious, and funny, and generous.

When she and Don returned to Huntington — 21 years after they moved to Tucson — there was a massive hole left by both of them.

Now, with her death, it is felt again. A light has dimmed. But Sandy did what I believe she always wanted to do: she made where she lived a better place. She quietly gave of herself and made others want to give, too.

Sandy was a life-long poet, and in 2016 she gathered many of her poems for a book, “Songs From a Night Blooming Garden.”

One of them, “Ashes,” was written after the Hatfields’ two sons died just a few months apart in 2014. Her words then give us comfort now:

“Words wash away/to the sea/the sea which holds dear/those we love./The wise men/followed their star/beyond all that we know./One day soon/we shall wind down/to the sea./Only the cold moon/will light our way/the way of the waves/the way of our love.”