Anne B. Buchner

Anne Buchner passed away August 2, 2026 at home, surrounded by her husband Gary Buchner and three children, David Buchner (Evelyn Weinstein) Doug Buchner (Dia Buchner) and Elizabeth Buchner. Anne enjoyed her 25-year career as an English teacher at Charles O Dickerson High School.

Her family invites the community to Anne’s celebration of life service at 1:00pm on Sunday, August 30, 2026 at the First Presbyterian Church of Ulysses on 69 E. Main Street Trumansburg. A reception will immediately follow.

                                                                               A Tribute to My Mother

I am writing my mother's obituary not as a matter of standard protocol, but because I need to. I want to. I simply have to.

Why?

My mother was my tenth-grade English teacher. She taught English for 25 years at Charles O. Dickerson High School in Trumansburg, NY. She was a drill sergeant when it came to spelling, grammar, and writing. Never was there an essay or writing assignment that escaped the red-pen treatment. You know the pen—the classic teacher's pen with blue ink on one end and red on the other? My mother bought them by the case! The red ink always ran out long before the blue did. I guess I wasn't the only student who experienced the unmistakable editing style of Mrs. Buchner. My own English papers always came back covered in red ink, although there was gradually less of it as I approached graduation.

Eventually, I realized no one was ever going to write for me. Those communication skills we were constantly told would matter someday? As it turns out, they did. Imagine that. It was our mother who relentlessly drilled into me, my brother, my sister, and countless classmates that education was one of life's greatest responsibilities. She believed that learning was the key to improving yourself and creating opportunities. My siblings and I all went to college—not simply because it was expected, but because our mother and father encouraged us, supported us, and believed education was the greatest gift they could give us.

As you can imagine, dinner conversations around the Buchner table almost always revolved around school. We talked about what happened in class that day, stories about teachers and students, or the sporting events in which all three Buchner kids seemed to participate year-round.

Of course, having your mother as your English teacher meant you never got away with anything! In fact, she was much harder on her own children than on anyone else's. We were expected to be the role models—the poster children for how students should behave. Seriously...God help us. I'm sure we tested her patience more than once, but she loved us fiercely, expected the best from us, and never lowered her standards. Looking back, I'm grateful she didn't.

Because she taught in our hometown, she knew all of our friends, both in and out of school. She celebrated their accomplishments, encouraged them when they struggled, and welcomed many of them into our home. She wasn't just our mother. She became another mother to many of our friends as well.

My mother's work ethic would have embarrassed a sweatshop boss. She simply got things done, whether the rest of us felt like it or not. Saturday mornings at the Buchner house were not for sleeping in. Unless you were seriously sick or away at a sporting event, you were out of bed early. There were bathrooms to clean, laundry to do, dishes to wash, lawns to mow, and apples to pick up before mowing the lawn. Those apple trees also supplied the neighborhood's greatest source of ammunition for our legendary apple wars. Looking back, It’s a miracle that no one lost an eye. The bonus? Fresh apple cider when the battle was over.

Mom taught us that work came before leisure. We didn't always appreciate it, and there were plenty of Saturdays when we'd rather have been anywhere else. But she instilled a work ethic that has stayed with us our entire lives. She taught us to do the job that needed to be done, whether we felt like doing it or not. At the time, it felt like discipline. Today, I recognize it as one of the greatest gifts she ever gave us.

My mother was also an explorer.

My parents traveled everywhere. Anytime someone asked me how they were doing, I would repeat one of my mother's favorite sayings:

"I'm having a great time spending your inheritance." She always said it with a smile. And they really did travel everywhere. No, seriously. My parents have a world map hanging on the wall leading down to their basement. It is covered with so many pins marking the places they visited that it looks more like a porcupine than a map. Every pin tells a story, represents an adventure, and reminds us that life is meant to be experienced.

They taught us that if you truly want to understand yourself—and the world—you have to experience it firsthand. And they certainly did. Yet, of all the places they visited, my mother loved the Adirondack Mountains most.

Long before the three Buchner children were born, my parents were camping there together. For decades, they returned year after year, sharing that love of the outdoors with us. If you've never been to the Adirondacks, I can't say enough about that magical place.

We climbed mountains—not quite like The Sound of Music's "Climb Every Mountain"—but we certainly hiked our share of them. My mother also possessed another remarkable talent: she was our family's social director. She planned which mountains to climb, which campgrounds to stay at, how long we'd stay, and somehow made everything come together.

We were a two-week camping family, complete with all the gear. There was the big tent for Mom and Dad, an awning where we cooked and ate together, fishing poles, camp chairs, lanterns, and every camping accessory imaginable. We even baked pineapple upside-down cakes in a Dutch oven over the campfire—a family favorite. For a while, I proudly claimed to be the master baker, although my wife might disagree. But that's another story.

Through mountain thunderstorms that rattled the tent, black bears wandering through camp, clouds of mosquitoes, and countless campfires, our mother taught us to appreciate the beauty of nature. Looking back, I realized she wasn't simply taking us camping. She was teaching us resilience, curiosity, patience, and an appreciation for the outdoors. We loved every minute of it and could never get enough.

As I reflect on my mother's life, I also think about the generation that shaped her. Born in 1937, she vividly remembered helping her mother prepare care packages to send to relatives and friends in Germany during World War II. My grandparents immigrated from Germany in 1903, joining the millions who came to America seeking the opportunity for a better life.

My mother and father were descendants of those courageous immigrants who left everything behind to build a new future. They understood the value of hard work, education, sacrifice, and family because those values had been passed down to them. On August 16, my parents would have celebrated their 68th wedding anniversary. Sixty-eight years.

That is a remarkable testament to love, commitment, sacrifice, and believing in each other through every season of life. Their marriage showed us what love can become when two people continue choosing one another every day.

Our mother believed in us before we believed in ourselves. She gave us the tools to become successful—not just in our careers, but in our lives. She taught us how to think, how to communicate, how to work hard, and how to care about others.

The rest, she would remind us, is up to us.

As I finish writing this, I can't help but smile and wonder what corrections she would have made with that famous red and blue pen. I'm certain she would have found a misplaced comma, a wordy sentence, or an awkward phrase. She would have made it better. One last lesson from my English teacher.

Love you, Mom.

—David