Josephine White

Josephine Irene Philomena Ramsden White, Jo, Jo Mama, The Roaring Mouse passed quietly from this world on December 5, 2025, attended by her cat, her Labrador, and her husband of 53 years, William H. (Bill) White. Her quiet departure, while not unexpected, was entirely unbefitting; not one person who knew Jo would describe her life as "quiet." A born stage manager, Jo loudly projected intellect, wit, warmth and whimsy throughout each of her 78 years.

Jo was born in Fort Dodge, Iowa in April 1947 to Arlene (Williams) and Richard (Dick) Ramsden, the first and favorite grandchild on her mother's side. Her affinity for the theatrical was quickly apparent. Jo stood up and walked when she was only nine months old, or so the family lore goes. Although able to play both, Jo found the piano and guitar too mundane and picked up the ukelele and accordion instead.

Jo's young adulthood was pierced by familial instability, and she was often called upon to care for her younger siblings, brother Arch who was born in 1953 and sister Margaret Mary (Maggie) who was born in 1960. The family embarked on a halting migration to the southwest, with stops in Lubbock, Hobbs and Roswell before finally landing in Albuquerque. Jo attended six different high schools in four years, but her unwavering determination and remarkable memory (she was Alexa before Alexa) enabled her to graduate on time from St. Pius X High School in 1965.

Jo's second act began when she enrolled at the University of New Mexico and locked eyes with a handsome undergraduate in the student union. In a moment of true kismet, the precise instant Jo met "That Asshole Bill White" was captured by a passing photographer, who published the photo in the center of that year's Mirage yearbook. Before completing her degree, Jo spent two summers in Memphis. By then an absolute bombshell, Jo continued her education but also picked up some modeling, acting and production gigs. She was selected as Miss New Mexico by the Young Americans for Freedom and invited to attend President Richard Nixon's inaugural ball. She excitedly traveled to Washington D.C. but was stricken ill and missed the ball entirely, a disappointment she groused about good-naturedly for decades.

Jo and Bill continued their courtship often from a distance, with Jo in Tennessee or New Mexico and Bill in Arizona or Alabama for pilot training. Cultivating a romance that spanned more than half a century, they made it work. Jo would not allow her hotshot pilot to get a big head, and Bill would not allow his whimsical artist to become unmoored. They afforded perfect symmetry, one to the other, and when both had completed college, they exchanged wedding vows in June 1972.

In the years that followed, Jo gave birth to sons William M. (Will) and Thomas (Tom). Bill's military obligations often called him away for long stretches of time, leaving Jo to wrangle two rambunctious boys. Undaunted, Jo set about constructing an idyllic childhood for Will and Tom. Preferring magic to Martha Stewart, Jo staged teddy bear picnics, painted murals on bedroom walls and ensured the boys had every Star Wars and G.I. Joe toy that hit the shelves. With much of her extended family living on the same street, Jo's house was the epicenter of chaotic fun. She did not care if you accidentally broke a porcelain figurine (it can be glued) or spilled food on the floor (the dog will get it); she only cared that each person who came through the door felt they belonged.

Dutifully supportive of Bill's career, Jo fulfilled her role as the Wing Commander's wife with dignity and grace. But in her own career, Jo Mama took centerstage. She taught art, drama, yearbook and language arts in parochial and public schools in Albuquerque and the Estancia Valley for more than four decades. Generously contributing her own money to purchase supplies, host cultural events honoring her students' diverse backgrounds and ensure her students had basic necessities, Jo Mama was a treasured and iconic educator.

Jo's desire to teach extended beyond the classroom. She delighted in educating those who were unfamiliar with Iowa's cuisine about the versatility of Jello, the benefit of adding an extra stick of butter to most dishes and the utter uselessness of a written recipe. An incredible cook, Jo's kitchen was a lively place where the television blared a British detective show while her tiny paring knife clacked against a bowl. She mastered many international cuisines, and her kitchen still overflows with cookbooks. But her deviled eggs, spinach dip and beef stroganoff are legendary.

An imaginative storyteller, writer and illustrator, Jo authored, cast and directed melodramas for community theater productions. Her weekly humor column, The Roaring Mouse from the White House, appeared in a succession of local newspapers. After her five grandchildren arrived, Jo wrote and illustrated a book for each of them that she sold, along with the characters' signature bandanas, at Wildlife West. She was honored to be accepted into the National League of American Pen Women, which later published some of her work.

Jo was devoted to serving her community. She was actively involved in the Lion's Club at the local and state levels and held a number of offices. But her service extended well beyond formal organizations. If a student did not have a prom date, she would find one (or loan one of her sons). She took countless roasters of posole to community events and funerals, declaring "I'm from Iowa - I know corn." She hosted theater camps at her home, ensuring the participants left with full bellies and a few other treasures. She crafted table decorations for celebratory banquets, made buttons to commemorate special events, hosted foreign exchange students and foreign pilots, housed friends of friends who had no place to go, loaned costumes to distant cousins ... the list is inexhaustible.

Jo surrounded herself with whimsy, from singing hamsters to booty shaking Santas, from pink flamingos to a four-foot stuffed bear in her guest bathroom. Every inch of her home is layered in things that brought her joy and she retained a childlike wonderment throughout her life. She had a fetching naivete that left her unaware she had bought the entire White family sweaters that were intended for Kwanzaa and that required her daughters-in-law to explain naughty things her sons and, later, her grandchildren, enjoyed saying to her.

But beneath her colorful sweaters, light up necklaces and outlandish hats, Jo was wise, intuitive and observant. She felt the energy of the universe deeply in a way that went beyond the tangible realm. She loved without regard to race, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion; she really only disliked you if you were a jerk. To sit with her was to feel awash with calm. To receive her advice was a gift. To hear her declare that you were hers was a profound honor.

In the weeks before her death, many visitors to Jo's bedside remarked that she seemed to be talking to friends and relatives who had gone before her. Jo's cousin Mary Ann heard her say "I can see you standing in the wings over there. Now move." While she is missed endlessly, we have little doubt Jo is already directing her next production.

Jo was preceded in death by her parents and her son Tom. She is survived by her husband Bill, son Will, daughters-in-law Kirsten and April, grandchildren Caitlin, Ellie, Mackenzie, Robert and Victoria, brother Arch, sisters Maggie and Jamie, nephew Shane, niece Tarah, Piwacket the cat, Laddie the Labrador and innumerable cousins and dear friends.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests a donation in the name of their mother, Jo White, to the National League of American Pen Women or the charity of your choice.