Kelly Jo Gould 1973 - 2025 | Gold Country Media

Kelly Jo Gould was a collector. She collected books, music, paintings, sketches, letters, notes, photographs, ticket stubs — you name it. Anything and everything found a place in Kelly's home — framed on a wall, featured on a bookshelf, perched on a windowsill, or merged into the ever-expanding collage on the refrigerator door. But it wasn't the objects themselves that mattered to Kelly; it was their provenance. That boxy old turntable with blown speakers? Her parents gave that to her when she graduated from middle school. That Japanese ceramic lamp? It belonged to her grandmother, Kay. That faded brown pennant from Kaseberg Elementary School? It held the memories of every passed note and whispered joke she shared with her classmates in her hometown of Roseville. She filled her home with mementos as a way of surrounding herself with her loved ones. The objects were symbols of the many loving relationships with which she was blessed — talismans of the warm, generous, supportive friends and family whose love she carried with her every day. And they were legion. Beginning with her parents, Beth and Don, and her brother Paul, Kelly was never short of love, yet she gave and gathered more wherever she went: the friendships she made in the classrooms and playgrounds of Roseville; on soccer and softball fields in Roseville and the Bay Area; while studying art and playing soccer at UC Berkeley; while working behind the scenes at Noise Pop and Hardly Strictly Bluegrass; while cataloging books and blasting music in the warehouse at Ned's Bookstore; while dedicating 16 years of her career to the cause of the Sierra Club; while working alongside fellow parents as a volunteer for school events, festivals, and fundraisers. Each and every one of her friendships were dear to her. It didn't matter if she hadn't seen you in years; she was as warm and welcoming and grateful for your company as though you had never left her side. While it was in Northern California that so many of her lifelong relationships bloomed, it was only when Kelly ventured south that she found the one that would blossom into a lifetime partnership. Kelly met Jeremy when they worked as faculty at California State Summer School for the Arts near Los Angeles. After many late nights spent playing card games, their summer romance gave way to a long-distance relationship that bridged the gap from one summer to the next — until three summers later, finally, it was clear: one of them had to move. Jeremy had planned to settle in the heart of the American film and television industry and build his career there, but he soon traded a bachelor's life in Los Angeles for a Kelly-curated cavalcade of Bay Area community and culture: book hunting at Moe's, Pegasus, and Spectator; record hunting at Amoeba, Mod Lang, and 1-2-3-Go; treasure hunting at thrift stores, the Alameda Point Antiques Faire, and the Oakland Museum's White Elephant Sale; live music at the Independent, the Fillmore, and the Greek; independent films at the Rialto, the Parkway, and the Grand Lake; mac and cheese at Homeroom; pancakes at Mama's Royal Cafe; old fashioned sundaes at Fenton's Creamery; and countless deep conversations and belly laughs at countless cafes, bars, nightclubs, and galleries with Kelly's seemingly infinite menagerie of friends — so many that Jeremy could scarcely meet them all, much less keep track of them. Soon after their wedding on the 28th of March, 2010, their overstuffed one-bedroom apartment got even more crowded — more love, more artifacts of love, and a never-ending stream of toys and diapers as Jeremy and Kelly welcomed their daughter Ila Belle and, less than two years later, their son Lincoln Lee. Life patterns changed quickly. The nightclubs, theaters, and bars gave way to the Oakland Zoo, Tilden Park, and Children's Fairyland. The walls of their home soon filled with Ila and Lincoln's artwork. Both Kelly and Jeremy worked from home to spend as much time with their children as possible. In Ila and Lincoln, many of Kelly's most endearing traits live on. Ila shares her mother's love for plants and animals, cooking and baking, crafts, drawing, and painting, and like Kelly, she dotes on her friends and gives of herself generously to them. Lincoln inherited his mother's deep well of empathy and her non-materialistic spirit, love of reading, and a penchant for doodling in every available margin and corner of every piece of paper he touches. While holding down her full-time job, Kelly embarked on what amounted to a second full-time career as a volunteer on every school committee, parent-teacher association, and lunchtime crew where she was needed, bringing her generosity, intuition, and problem-solving skills to every project. She served two terms as president of the PTA. She chaired festival committees, created the school garden, led recycling efforts, and served in any other capacity where she felt she could contribute. Even cancer barely slowed her down. Kelly continued to volunteer and offer her support and insight, even joining school Zoom calls in the final weeks of her life. She faced her illness with grace and poise, continuing to live her life in as normal a manner as possible. She did not do it on her own. Kelly's friends, family, and neighbors were all there for her over the past 16 months. Some of them were there for her in very concrete ways — meal trains and gifts and carpools and rides to medical appointments. Some were there for her in spirit — a timely text, a warm phone call, a candle lit on a far-off mantle. It meant the world to her. It lightened the load. It made everything bearable. Kelly passed away on January 5, 2025, in her home, as she wanted, with Jeremy and Paul by her side. She was surrounded by the artifacts of a life that overflowed with the love and support and joy of her husband, her children, her parents, her brother, and her legion of beloved friends. All who knew and loved her are invited to a memorial celebration on Saturday, March 1, from 10 a.m to noon at the Moose Lodge, 506 Lincoln Street in Roseville.