Perfect daughter became ideal mom -
To day-care provider Robin Doyle,
family meant everything.
The Orange County Register
Sunday, April 8, 2001
Author: ROBIN HINCH
Robin Doyle 's family says the worst thing she ever did was go away to college. And she didn't go all that far -- from her home in Brea to Fullerton, where she insisted on living in a dorm. She had to work four jobs to pay for that cramped room, and her experiment with independent living didn't last long. Homesickness and lack of money drove her back home.
But for her family, any time Robin was gone was a sad time.
Robin was the ideal daughter . She never gave her parents a lick of trouble, from the time she was born 42 years ago, to the day she died of complications of asthma.
She was fun to have around, took her little sister with her everywhere (even on dates!), was helpful and cooperative and active in church youth groups.
Now, she did have a mischievous side. When she wanted to visit friends in Hacienda Heights, which her parents deemed too far for her to drive, she'd tell them she and her sister were going to Alpha Beta, which they did, in a manner of speaking. They'd sit in the store parking lot for a few minutes, then speed off to the forbidden city. That way they could say they'd gone to Alpha Beta.
Born Robin Spink in Fullerton, she was 15 when the family moved to Brea. She battled asthma from birth, with many childhood trips to the emergency room. But if wheezing kept her from running and jumping, her nimble fingers kept her busy in other ways.
Robin was a meticulous seamstress (made herself a suit in high school -- at an age when most of us could barely cut out a wearable apron) and was crazy about crafts.
She baby-sat in high school and earned a degree in early childhood education at Pacific Christian College in Fullerton.
She was 22 when she met Ron Doyle, then 32, at church camp. A friend said, "I have the perfect guy for you. He already owns a house." They were married 18 years ago.
In spite of her asthma, Robin was constantly on the go or out front fooling around with her kids, a son, 7, and a daughter, 15.
When the children played sports, she was the team mom. If she got a note from school, she trotted right down there to see what it was about.
Robin also ran a day-care center in her home for a dozen infants and preschoolers. Working parents couldn't believe their good fortune. A solid, Christian home where the mom toilet trains, has a story hour and teaches crafts.
One father said the last time he saw Robin, when he picked up his child at her house, she was having a water-pistol fight with her charges. She died later that evening at the ball field where her son was playing.
Robin was nearly as devoted to crafts as she was to her family.
One room behind the garage of her home was crammed with supplies -- so many that she often couldn't find the thing she needed and knew she had. So she'd go buy a new one. She saved everything -- each scrap of fabric, partially cut piece of cardboard, scrap of lace or bit of yarn -- just in case.
She could make something out of anything -- angels out of toilet-paper rolls, Christmas trees out of wire coat hangers. Recently, embroidery had caught her fancy, and she had a machine that stitched everything from phrases to flowers. She was in the middle of personalizing baseball caps for three Brea Little League teams.
She and her sister were constant companions and sounded exactly alike. When her sister's husband called the Doyle house, Robin could always fool him into thinking she was her sister. "You'd better watch it," he'd warn." I just might say something that should be shared only between husband and wife. Then won't YOU be embarrassed." Robin just gave him her characteristic wheezy little giggle.
She and her sister never ran out of things to say to one another. One day, they shopped together all day, called each other when they reached their respective homes, then, while her sister and her husband were dining in a restaurant, her sister's cell phone rang. It was Robin.
"Don't you two EVER stop talking?" her sister's husband fumed.
Christianity was a fundamental element of the Doyle household. The children were well-grounded in Christian values, and Robin read her Bible daily and attended Bible study regularly.
Her loss is something her family can't quite absorb.
After Robin died, her mother told Russell he'd be spending the night at her house. "No," he said quietly, "I have to wait until my mom picks me up."
==============================================
Maternal Grandparents:
James Clifton Lane (1915-1988
Helen Royster Lane (1920-1983)
To day-care provider Robin Doyle,
family meant everything.
The Orange County Register
Sunday, April 8, 2001
Author: ROBIN HINCH
Robin Doyle 's family says the worst thing she ever did was go away to college. And she didn't go all that far -- from her home in Brea to Fullerton, where she insisted on living in a dorm. She had to work four jobs to pay for that cramped room, and her experiment with independent living didn't last long. Homesickness and lack of money drove her back home.
But for her family, any time Robin was gone was a sad time.
Robin was the ideal daughter . She never gave her parents a lick of trouble, from the time she was born 42 years ago, to the day she died of complications of asthma.
She was fun to have around, took her little sister with her everywhere (even on dates!), was helpful and cooperative and active in church youth groups.
Now, she did have a mischievous side. When she wanted to visit friends in Hacienda Heights, which her parents deemed too far for her to drive, she'd tell them she and her sister were going to Alpha Beta, which they did, in a manner of speaking. They'd sit in the store parking lot for a few minutes, then speed off to the forbidden city. That way they could say they'd gone to Alpha Beta.
Born Robin Spink in Fullerton, she was 15 when the family moved to Brea. She battled asthma from birth, with many childhood trips to the emergency room. But if wheezing kept her from running and jumping, her nimble fingers kept her busy in other ways.
Robin was a meticulous seamstress (made herself a suit in high school -- at an age when most of us could barely cut out a wearable apron) and was crazy about crafts.
She baby-sat in high school and earned a degree in early childhood education at Pacific Christian College in Fullerton.
She was 22 when she met Ron Doyle, then 32, at church camp. A friend said, "I have the perfect guy for you. He already owns a house." They were married 18 years ago.
In spite of her asthma, Robin was constantly on the go or out front fooling around with her kids, a son, 7, and a daughter, 15.
When the children played sports, she was the team mom. If she got a note from school, she trotted right down there to see what it was about.
Robin also ran a day-care center in her home for a dozen infants and preschoolers. Working parents couldn't believe their good fortune. A solid, Christian home where the mom toilet trains, has a story hour and teaches crafts.
One father said the last time he saw Robin, when he picked up his child at her house, she was having a water-pistol fight with her charges. She died later that evening at the ball field where her son was playing.
Robin was nearly as devoted to crafts as she was to her family.
One room behind the garage of her home was crammed with supplies -- so many that she often couldn't find the thing she needed and knew she had. So she'd go buy a new one. She saved everything -- each scrap of fabric, partially cut piece of cardboard, scrap of lace or bit of yarn -- just in case.
She could make something out of anything -- angels out of toilet-paper rolls, Christmas trees out of wire coat hangers. Recently, embroidery had caught her fancy, and she had a machine that stitched everything from phrases to flowers. She was in the middle of personalizing baseball caps for three Brea Little League teams.
She and her sister were constant companions and sounded exactly alike. When her sister's husband called the Doyle house, Robin could always fool him into thinking she was her sister. "You'd better watch it," he'd warn." I just might say something that should be shared only between husband and wife. Then won't YOU be embarrassed." Robin just gave him her characteristic wheezy little giggle.
She and her sister never ran out of things to say to one another. One day, they shopped together all day, called each other when they reached their respective homes, then, while her sister and her husband were dining in a restaurant, her sister's cell phone rang. It was Robin.
"Don't you two EVER stop talking?" her sister's husband fumed.
Christianity was a fundamental element of the Doyle household. The children were well-grounded in Christian values, and Robin read her Bible daily and attended Bible study regularly.
Her loss is something her family can't quite absorb.
After Robin died, her mother told Russell he'd be spending the night at her house. "No," he said quietly, "I have to wait until my mom picks me up."
==============================================
Maternal Grandparents:
James Clifton Lane (1915-1988
Helen Royster Lane (1920-1983)
Perfect daughter became ideal mom -
To day-care provider Robin Doyle,
family meant everything.
The Orange County Register
Sunday, April 8, 2001
Author: ROBIN HINCH
Robin Doyle 's family says the worst thing she ever did was go away to college. And she didn't go all that far -- from her home in Brea to Fullerton, where she insisted on living in a dorm. She had to work four jobs to pay for that cramped room, and her experiment with independent living didn't last long. Homesickness and lack of money drove her back home.
But for her family, any time Robin was gone was a sad time.
Robin was the ideal daughter . She never gave her parents a lick of trouble, from the time she was born 42 years ago, to the day she died of complications of asthma.
She was fun to have around, took her little sister with her everywhere (even on dates!), was helpful and cooperative and active in church youth groups.
Now, she did have a mischievous side. When she wanted to visit friends in Hacienda Heights, which her parents deemed too far for her to drive, she'd tell them she and her sister were going to Alpha Beta, which they did, in a manner of speaking. They'd sit in the store parking lot for a few minutes, then speed off to the forbidden city. That way they could say they'd gone to Alpha Beta.
Born Robin Spink in Fullerton, she was 15 when the family moved to Brea. She battled asthma from birth, with many childhood trips to the emergency room. But if wheezing kept her from running and jumping, her nimble fingers kept her busy in other ways.
Robin was a meticulous seamstress (made herself a suit in high school -- at an age when most of us could barely cut out a wearable apron) and was crazy about crafts.
She baby-sat in high school and earned a degree in early childhood education at Pacific Christian College in Fullerton.
She was 22 when she met Ron Doyle, then 32, at church camp. A friend said, "I have the perfect guy for you. He already owns a house." They were married 18 years ago.
In spite of her asthma, Robin was constantly on the go or out front fooling around with her kids, a son, 7, and a daughter, 15.
When the children played sports, she was the team mom. If she got a note from school, she trotted right down there to see what it was about.
Robin also ran a day-care center in her home for a dozen infants and preschoolers. Working parents couldn't believe their good fortune. A solid, Christian home where the mom toilet trains, has a story hour and teaches crafts.
One father said the last time he saw Robin, when he picked up his child at her house, she was having a water-pistol fight with her charges. She died later that evening at the ball field where her son was playing.
Robin was nearly as devoted to crafts as she was to her family.
One room behind the garage of her home was crammed with supplies -- so many that she often couldn't find the thing she needed and knew she had. So she'd go buy a new one. She saved everything -- each scrap of fabric, partially cut piece of cardboard, scrap of lace or bit of yarn -- just in case.
She could make something out of anything -- angels out of toilet-paper rolls, Christmas trees out of wire coat hangers. Recently, embroidery had caught her fancy, and she had a machine that stitched everything from phrases to flowers. She was in the middle of personalizing baseball caps for three Brea Little League teams.
She and her sister were constant companions and sounded exactly alike. When her sister's husband called the Doyle house, Robin could always fool him into thinking she was her sister. "You'd better watch it," he'd warn." I just might say something that should be shared only between husband and wife. Then won't YOU be embarrassed." Robin just gave him her characteristic wheezy little giggle.
She and her sister never ran out of things to say to one another. One day, they shopped together all day, called each other when they reached their respective homes, then, while her sister and her husband were dining in a restaurant, her sister's cell phone rang. It was Robin.
"Don't you two EVER stop talking?" her sister's husband fumed.
Christianity was a fundamental element of the Doyle household. The children were well-grounded in Christian values, and Robin read her Bible daily and attended Bible study regularly.
Her loss is something her family can't quite absorb.
After Robin died, her mother told Russell he'd be spending the night at her house. "No," he said quietly, "I have to wait until my mom picks me up."
==============================================
Maternal Grandparents:
James Clifton Lane (1915-1988
Helen Royster Lane (1920-1983)
To day-care provider Robin Doyle,
family meant everything.
The Orange County Register
Sunday, April 8, 2001
Author: ROBIN HINCH
Robin Doyle 's family says the worst thing she ever did was go away to college. And she didn't go all that far -- from her home in Brea to Fullerton, where she insisted on living in a dorm. She had to work four jobs to pay for that cramped room, and her experiment with independent living didn't last long. Homesickness and lack of money drove her back home.
But for her family, any time Robin was gone was a sad time.
Robin was the ideal daughter . She never gave her parents a lick of trouble, from the time she was born 42 years ago, to the day she died of complications of asthma.
She was fun to have around, took her little sister with her everywhere (even on dates!), was helpful and cooperative and active in church youth groups.
Now, she did have a mischievous side. When she wanted to visit friends in Hacienda Heights, which her parents deemed too far for her to drive, she'd tell them she and her sister were going to Alpha Beta, which they did, in a manner of speaking. They'd sit in the store parking lot for a few minutes, then speed off to the forbidden city. That way they could say they'd gone to Alpha Beta.
Born Robin Spink in Fullerton, she was 15 when the family moved to Brea. She battled asthma from birth, with many childhood trips to the emergency room. But if wheezing kept her from running and jumping, her nimble fingers kept her busy in other ways.
Robin was a meticulous seamstress (made herself a suit in high school -- at an age when most of us could barely cut out a wearable apron) and was crazy about crafts.
She baby-sat in high school and earned a degree in early childhood education at Pacific Christian College in Fullerton.
She was 22 when she met Ron Doyle, then 32, at church camp. A friend said, "I have the perfect guy for you. He already owns a house." They were married 18 years ago.
In spite of her asthma, Robin was constantly on the go or out front fooling around with her kids, a son, 7, and a daughter, 15.
When the children played sports, she was the team mom. If she got a note from school, she trotted right down there to see what it was about.
Robin also ran a day-care center in her home for a dozen infants and preschoolers. Working parents couldn't believe their good fortune. A solid, Christian home where the mom toilet trains, has a story hour and teaches crafts.
One father said the last time he saw Robin, when he picked up his child at her house, she was having a water-pistol fight with her charges. She died later that evening at the ball field where her son was playing.
Robin was nearly as devoted to crafts as she was to her family.
One room behind the garage of her home was crammed with supplies -- so many that she often couldn't find the thing she needed and knew she had. So she'd go buy a new one. She saved everything -- each scrap of fabric, partially cut piece of cardboard, scrap of lace or bit of yarn -- just in case.
She could make something out of anything -- angels out of toilet-paper rolls, Christmas trees out of wire coat hangers. Recently, embroidery had caught her fancy, and she had a machine that stitched everything from phrases to flowers. She was in the middle of personalizing baseball caps for three Brea Little League teams.
She and her sister were constant companions and sounded exactly alike. When her sister's husband called the Doyle house, Robin could always fool him into thinking she was her sister. "You'd better watch it," he'd warn." I just might say something that should be shared only between husband and wife. Then won't YOU be embarrassed." Robin just gave him her characteristic wheezy little giggle.
She and her sister never ran out of things to say to one another. One day, they shopped together all day, called each other when they reached their respective homes, then, while her sister and her husband were dining in a restaurant, her sister's cell phone rang. It was Robin.
"Don't you two EVER stop talking?" her sister's husband fumed.
Christianity was a fundamental element of the Doyle household. The children were well-grounded in Christian values, and Robin read her Bible daily and attended Bible study regularly.
Her loss is something her family can't quite absorb.
After Robin died, her mother told Russell he'd be spending the night at her house. "No," he said quietly, "I have to wait until my mom picks me up."
==============================================
Maternal Grandparents:
James Clifton Lane (1915-1988
Helen Royster Lane (1920-1983)
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