08/28/2026
Remembering Char
Char gave me my very first opportunity to work in a flower shop. At the time, it was a part-time job while I was attending college to become a special education teacher.
I started as a delivery driver and counter helper. Char taught me the basics of how to get around a flower shop—what was expected, how things should work, and, most importantly, how to make sure we always had the freshest flowers to offer our customers.
I always thought Char was a magician.
She could practically measure a suit without ever touching a measuring tape. I understand that skill now. After measuring enough people over the years, I can pretty much look at someone and guess the size of their neck, the length of their arms, the width of their shoulders, and everything in between. I learned that from watching Char.
I don’t know if you remember the big brown Char’s van, but I sure do. I was actually the one who talked Char into buying the new white van. That van was so big that we could make one trip to Hamlet with all of the funeral arrangements. If I remember correctly, I could get about 30 arrangements in it at one time.
Valentine’s Day was crazy. Everybody had to have flowers from Char’s. The waiting line would literally be out the door and stretch the entire length of the front porch.
And Christmas? It took us about six weeks to put everything up and about six hours to take it all down—because everything she made or bought to sell, sold.
I remember Char and I sharing a love for calla lilies. They were one of my favorites to work with, too.
One of my favorite things about working there was working with her husband, Alan. My quirky personality and Alan’s seemed to run parallel. We just understood each other.
When I eventually went out on my own and opened my own store, Alan came to visit me. He told me he was proud of me and congratulated me. That meant more to me than he probably ever realized.
But there is one thing about Char that I don’t think anyone who knew her could ever forget: her love for her customers.
She always found time to chat with them. She knew their stories. She knew what they liked. And she never forgot anyone’s name.
That was Char.
She taught me flowers, but she also taught me something much bigger—that a flower shop isn’t really about flowers. It is about people. It is about remembering them, celebrating with them, comforting them, and making them feel like they matter.
I have carried those lessons with me ever since.
So much of who I am as a florist today began with the opportunity Char gave me all those years ago.
And for that, I will always be grateful.
https://www.odonnellfhome.com/m/obituaries/charlene-harvey-2/Memories?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=autopost&fbclid=IwdGRjcAT-5HtwZG9mBWZkaWQWUNW5O3sA2h1xuMWOoezauox76i__N2V4dG4DYWVtAjExAHNydGMGYXBwX2lkCjY2Mjg1NjgzNzkAAR6MhvtHu7QKhWrUDe-JAD98mQFl-kVZxL3SbNGiLEPbPJwkolVVrzo2Zmo2UQ_aem_FxMlUU1liJs3XY7OfgcOjw
Share Memories and Support the Family.
