Tina Canales

People are drawn to places for many reasons.

The truth is, folks aren’t drawn to the Palisades because of the homes. There’re plenty of spots out there with snappy homes.

People are drawn to the Palisades because of its heart. Because it feels like a place where kindness lingers.

Because it feels comfortable to them. Reminds them of who they are. Their roots. What they value.

And then they become us, and we become them.

Here’s the story of one of those people—who passed through in the breeze of the night.

A month ago, Tina Canales was being “Tina.”

Absolutely full of life, full of joy, with a big smile on her face, full-speed ahead running and weaving between so many charitable projects she touched. Projects in the Palisades, in her hometown of Berkeley, and in St. Helena. Projects with one thing in common.

Helping people.

That was Tina, 24/7.

All projects where she knew she could make a difference—and she’d jump head-first, right in the pool.

A month ago, she wasn’t feeling great, went to her doctor.

Two weeks later—she passed away in her husband’s and three girls’ arms. A cancer in her lungs and blood clotting triggered a series of strokes that took her life.

You talk about someone making you realize how fragile life is…

. . . . .

My wife Catherine and I knew Tina because she and her husband Greg Onken (they don’t make a guy any better) had a condo in town—right above us.

Make sense of this.

Even though Tina lived in Berkeley and St. Helena—she ran our condo’s HOA Board. Ran it.

And beloved by everyone in our community of neighbors.

Catherine and I just got back from her emotional funeral in St. Helena, in an absolutely packed church.

Everyone across every pew shared something in common. In meaningful ways, Tina touched all their lives. Tina made them all feel so important to her—and important to their world.

That was her gift.

Here’s what I’m talking about.

My daughter Kaitlyn, her husband Jimmy, and their two-year-old boy lost everything in the fire. They left the Palisades that day literally with “the shirts on their backs.”

As with so many of us in the Palisades, they were hunkered down in a hotel—trying to make sense of it all. In one night, gone was Kaitlyn’s childhood home. And the place where she was raising their baby. And her hometown.

Fast-forward three days later.

Kaitlyn got a knock on her hotel room door, and it was Tina’s daughters. Her spectacular, caring daughters—testimony to “It’s not what you say, it’s what you do.”

They had driven up from San Diego to drop off something from her mom. Boxes and boxes of brand-new items for the three of them. Clothing, kitchenware, toys for their baby, you name it.

And then they came back two days later—with more.

Back to Tina’s funeral.

The priest shared how, as with everyone else there, he was a beneficiary of Tina’s kindness with his two favorite sweaters that make him feel great about himself. He read a poem that, he said, summed up Tina.

“A bouquet of ordinary tasks
Made me thrilled to be alive”

At the end of the ceremony, her husband Greg walked up to the podium.

Could barely speak.

.

I can’t possibly express how emotional it was for everyone there.

He said through tears, “How blessed I was to spend my life with her. How lucky I was to have her as my partner.”

“My life, her life, it was one life,” Greg said.

“For me, she was everything. She was not only my wife, she was my girlfriend, my lover, my best friend, my only true confidant, my co-conspirator, my comedic partner, my past, and my future.

She gave meaning to the endless beauty of our creative world. She energized the process of discovery—because I could share it with her.”

Looking at his three daughters in the first pew, Greg spoke about how Tina loved nothing more them.

“With all her accomplishments, being your mom brought her more joy than anything else,” Greg said. “It was the highlight and honor of her lifetime.”

After everyone cleared out of the church…

One thing funerals remind you of. Is that life moves on.

It’s a few days later, and I’m back in the juggle of things, Catherine is off to babysit our grandson—and I’m sure Greg and his girls are doing what they can to forge a new rhythm of their new lives.

And our condo and all the places Tina touched? They’ll find their way.

But I’ll see Tina in lots of places in town as time goes by.

In the quiet joy. In the warmth of a neighbor’s smile. In the kind of grace in the way people show up for each other. In the way a sun can set, like it’s tucking the whole town in.

It seems when that rare person lives with that much heart, they don’t just make an impression—they leave a little of themselves behind.

They leave a mark on us. It’s subtle, but it’s there. You notice it, when you least expect it, on what you wear. On how you listen. On what you dream. It always appears in the quiet.

Tina did that. For me. For all of us.

Maybe Tina, in the ‘ordinary’ of those tasks, didn’t change the town.

But she reminded us of who it is.

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Click here for Tina's obituary, written by her husband Greg.

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Jimmy Dunne is a modern-day Renaissance Man; a hit songwriter with songs on 28 million hit records; songs, scores, and themes in over a thousand television episodes and many hit films; a screenwriter and producer of hit television shows; award-winning book author; an entrepreneur—and his town’s “Citizen of the Year.” Reach out to him at j@jimmydunne.com.