JoAnn Fisk

A Memorial Service for JoAnn Fisk, 83, Lawrence, KS is set for 1:00 pm, Friday, March 20, 2026, at Warren-McElwain Mortuary, Lawrence, KS. JoAnn passed away on March 14, 2026, at Pioneer Ridge Independent Living.

JoAnn was born on September 2, 1942, in Cherokee, IA, the daughter of Clarence “Tommy” and Aleene (Wilson) Thompson.

JoAnn is survived by her sons, Wade & (Candi) Cormaney, Travis & (Tracie) Cormaney, grandchildren, Ava & (Reilley Moore) Cormaney, Cale Cormaney, Carsyn Cormaney, Elle Cormaney.

JoAnn was preceded in death by her parents, and husband, Tim Fisk.

She was Jo, JoAnn, Momma and Grandma, and was a very strong, independent, spunky little midwestern woman. As such she had a deep library of midwestern sayings or colloquialisms she would drop in conversation all the time. We called them Grandma-isms. We share some of those here, included in “quotes.”

She was blessed with a truly excellent life well lived up until recently when she found herself with “one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.” While we’ll no longer have her in the room with us, everyone knew when she was there. Not because she demanded attention, but because she created warmth. She did that with an amazing laugh and a clap of her hands as an exclamation point. That was Grandma. She had a way of making ordinary days feel special and special days feel unforgettable. Live each day fully and when it was time to rest, go to bed and be “ten toes up.”

She was elegance and playfulness wrapped into one beautiful soul. You might notice her first by her perfectly chosen outfit, her colorful earrings, or the soft scent of warm vanilla that seemed to follow her wherever she went. But what you remembered most was how she made you feel — completely seen, completely loved, and somehow a little bit more confident just by being near her.

Grandma had a gift for turning small moments into lifelong memories. She didn’t just attend life — she participated in it fully. She choreographed tap dances with her grandchildren, sat patiently at craft tables helping sew and create, and woke up early to fill the kitchen with the smell of coffee cake and wonderful fruit so that “your stomach won’t end up gnawing at your backbone.” Very often we would get halfway through dinner when she would remember the bread in the oven. She would leap up to loudly and profanely announce the missing bread problem- then sit down and explain, ‘Well it’s okay, no one wants to end up “three ax handles wide anyway.” She believed bread could be late, laughter was meant to be loud, and family time was never something to take for granted. She had many years of hunting and fishing far and beyond. And although she hadn’t landed a fish “since who laid the rail” she managed some monsters and had the photos to prove it.

Her love showed up in traditions. In spring break visits and long lunches. In Sunday dinners that brought everyone back together no matter how busy life became. In summers spent surrounded by mountains and stories. She had a way of anchoring the family — reminding everyone what truly mattered without ever needing to say it out loud.

She was strong in quiet ways. Determined. Thoughtful. Generous beyond measure. She didn’t just hope for her family’s future — she actively helped build it, making sacrifices and planning ahead so her grandchildren could step into life with opportunity and confidence. That kind of love is rare. That kind of legacy is permanent. Just wishing won’t make it happen, so she made it happen because “if wishes were horses beggars would ride.”

But more than anything, Grandma was joy. She was the snickering laugh after a clever remark. The squeeze of a hug that you wished could last just a little longer. The sparkle in her eye when she watched the people she loved simply being themselves. She taught us that beauty lives in the everyday — in butterflies drifting by, in the comfort of a familiar meal, in the quiet peace of sitting together with coffee and conversation. If you like the bubbles on the top of coffee, then you need to “get the moneys off the top.”

Losing her leaves a space that cannot be filled in the same way. Yet somehow, she is still here. In the traditions we continue. In the creativity we pass on. In the strength we find when we need it most. In every moment we pause to notice something small and wonderful — because that is exactly what she taught us to do.

If love could make someone live forever, Grandma would never have left us.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions in JoAnn’s name may be made by check to the International Medical Assistance Foundation Inc.- care of the Ben Castro Surgical Brigade- or by Venmo to Tim Pierce@imaf2025 also care of the Ben Castro Surgical Brigade for life saving surgical work in rural Honduras.

For more information or to post a condolence go to warrenmcelwain.com.