Nancy Cassell
April 17, 1944 ~ April 24, 2026
Nancy J. Cassell, 82, of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, passed away peacefully in her sleep on Friday, April 24, 2026, at Garnett Place, Cedar Rapids. In accordance with her wishes, a Celebration of Life for family and friends will be held at 1pm on August 1, 2026, at 2536 Twin Bay Drive, Traverse City, Michigan 49696. Please RSVP to Nick Cassell at 231-342-3389.
Nancy was born on April 17, 1944, in Chicago, Illinois to Mary-Jeanne and Raoul Montgomery. She graduated from Ferndale High School and later attended Endicott College before meeting the love of her life and father of their two children, Robert Cassell.
Nancy was known for many things over the course of her life, but chiefly among them: her creativity, her passion and her vibrant, independent and often fiery personality. Nancy moved through life with grace and certainty that shined through in everything she did, from her sense of fashion to her beautifully curated home, her cooking, her art, and the confidence with which she carried herself.
Nancy prided herself on being a creative in nearly every direction. She was a talented painter, seamstress, jeweler, beader, and overall, true designer. Even as a young woman, her talent and skills did not go unrecognized and an article was published in the Detroit Free Press about her work with silk-on-silk appliqués. Later in life, she became more well known for her impressive and often highly detailed work in beading and jewelry. While she did explore her entrepreneurial side for a time, she kept the hobby near and dear to her heart and was always making bracelets, necklaces and rings for family and friends.
Nancy did not limit this creativity to only one corner of her life though. It showed up in how she dressed, what she cooked and the home she so beautifully created around her family. The family house in Pleasant Ridge was one of Nancy’s greatest prides, not just because it was beautiful, but because every part of it was a reflection of her efforts. From the sitting room lined wall-to-wall with cookbooks, to the garden that grew fuller every year. Even something as simple as walking down the stairs meant seeing countless family memories on display, each piece contributing to a beautiful gallery of stories, inside jokes, adventures and little treasures that made the space feel alive.
Nancy filled her life with the things and people she loved most. She was happiest when friends and family were nearby, her troupe of Golden Retrievers with funny names was close at hand, and she had something going in the kitchen. While Nancy claimed that she could “burn water,” anyone she fed walked away knowing she was not only a certified chef, but a truly gifted cook. She cooked with care, confidence and no shortage of garlic. Nancy knew how to make her kitchen the heart of every party and turned it into a place to gather, to laugh, to love, and, if you were paying attention, to notice a quarter superglued to the floor.
Alongside Robert, Nancy’s life was overflowing with love and adventure. After a picture-perfect workplace meet-cute, the two were practically inseparable. They were best friends first, lovebirds second and lifelong partners in every season of their life, including welcoming their two children into the world together. They traveled the world in pursuit of beauty, culture, good food and the kind of stories worth bringing home. Still, for everywhere they traveled, the family cottage on Torch Lake remained Nancy’s most treasured destination. It was a home away from home filled with soft towels, warm sand, wet dogs and cold drinks.
Despite the adversities in her life, including a breast cancer diagnosis and the loss of her husband, Nancy always managed to face hardship with a brave face and her wry sense of humor. Her struggles never became her identity, rather, they were just things that she saw as terribly inconvenient interruptions to a life she still had every intention of living.
Her family will remember her as a force of nature, she was loving, commanding, funny, elegant and someone who always told great stories. But perhaps the greatest story Nancy leaves behind is the time her French teacher agreed to pass her, but only on one condition: that she never speak French again. Nancy told this story proudly, and, true to form, treated it less like a failure and more like an honor. She leaves behind the beauty she created, the people she fed, the family she loved fiercely, and a life that was vibrant, full, and filled with love. And, at long last, with apologies to her French teacher: c’est la vie.
Nancy is survived by her two children, Nicole (Trevor) Cassell and Nicholas (Andrea) Cassell; four grandchildren, David (Joshua) Sowerby, Ashley (Michael) Sowerby, Keller and Willa; brother, Buck (Cathy) Montgomery; and brother-in-law, Jim (Judy) Onthank.
She was preceded in death by her mother, Mary-Jeanne; father, Raoul; husband, Robert; and sister, Judy Onthank.
In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in Nancy’s name to the Detroit Zoological Society where contributions help support the Butterfly Gardens.
Services
Celebration of Life:
Saturday, August 1, 2026
1:00 pm
Nancy's Celebration of Life
2536 Twin Bay Drive
Traverse City, MI 49696
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Nancy, you were always a joy to spend time with. I loved your creative home, stunning garden and your beautiful Golden Retrievers! Rest in peace!
Nancy was one of the first neighbors I met in Pleasant Ridge. Always could be counted on to help the community and known for her perfect hosting home and friendship. We moved but always remember her warmth and humor.
From kindergarten Nancy and I were life long friends! While in grade school Nancy and I shared our interest in art. She was very talented in areas which interested her: cooking, jewelry, draperies, decorating her home! She excellerated in everything which interested her!
Nancy would absolutely hate most memorial posts.
If I started with something like:
“Nancy was a gentle soul who never had a harsh word for anyone…”
she would probably roll her eyes, tell me I was full of it, and remind me that she spent most of her life telling people exactly what she thought.
Nancy wasn’t delicate.
Nancy wasn’t shy.
Nancy wasn’t politically correct.
Nancy was a force of nature.
And if she didn’t like your opinion, your plans, your logic, or your general existence on that particular day, she had a favorite response:
“Well, that’s just too da** bad.”
Case closed.
No appeals process.
No committee meeting.
No second opinions.
I first met Nancy when I was driving a taxi in Traverse City. One ride was all it took. We immediately clicked. After that, whenever she needed a ride, she requested me.
Eventually I left the taxi business, but somehow I never stopped being Nancy’s driver.
When her money became tight, the meter stopped running.
The friendship didn’t.
Over the years, Nancy became my adopted mother or grandmother, depending on the day.
We spent years teasing each other, insulting each other, laughing at each other, and enjoying every minute of it. A lot of people found Nancy intimidating. Personally, I thought she was hilarious.
Nancy loved cats with a passion that bordered on a religion.
Snowball.
Chimichurri Piccadilly.
Just those names tell you everything you need to know about her.
When Snowball passed away in 2024, I brought a gray kitten into Nancy’s life. She took one look at him and immediately announced that he was “gunmetal gray.”
Therefore, his name would be Gunner.
Not maybe.
Not perhaps.
Not let’s think about it.
Gunner.
Because Nancy had spoken.
The kitten eventually came back home with me, and I still have him today. Every time I see him acting like he owns the house, I think of Nancy. In a strange way, a little piece of her is still hanging around causing trouble.
Nancy was also a chef.
Not the kind of person who cooked.
A chef.
There is a difference.
She had opinions about food. Strong opinions. Expert opinions. Opinions that occasionally arrived whether you wanted them or not.
Which is why one of my favorite memories is so perfectly ridiculous.
For years, while living in Traverse City, Nancy watched Chipotle commercials on television. She talked about those chips and guacamole constantly.
The problem?
The closest Chipotle was in Grand Rapids, about two and a half hours away.
So for years, this culinary dream remained unfulfilled.
Then on Valentine’s Day 2024, while she was living in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, I picked her up and finally took her to Chipotle.
After years of anticipation, Nancy finally got her chips and guacamole.
Think about that for a moment.
This woman traveled, created art, raised a family, beat cancer, and lived an extraordinary life.
Yet one of our great adventures was fulfilling her lifelong quest to eat guacamole she’d seen advertised on television.
And honestly?
That sounds exactly right.
One of my all-time favorite Nancy stories happened after she fell in her apartment bathroom and hit her head.
The staff rushed in.
Everyone agreed she should probably go to the hospital.
Nancy had a different opinion.
Nancy had a hair appointment.
So instead of going to the hospital, she informed us that she was getting her hair done first.
That’s Nancy in one story.
Possible concussion?
A concern.
Bad hair?
An emergency.
Every year on my birthday, Nancy would call and leave a voicemail singing the entire Happy Birthday song.
Not part of it.
Not the first verse.
The entire song.
That was the thing about Nancy.
People saw the sarcasm.
People saw the sharp tongue.
People heard the blunt opinions.
But if Nancy let you into her circle, she loved fiercely.
You just had to learn to speak fluent Nancy.
Underneath all the sarcasm was one of the most loyal people I’ve ever known.
Nancy wasn’t always easy.
She was stubborn.
Opinionated.
Demanding.
Funny.
Creative.
Fearless.
Loyal.
Hilarious.
And completely unforgettable.
The world is full of nice people.
But every once in a while, you meet a true original.
Someone who cannot be replaced because there was never anyone quite like them in the first place.
Nancy was one of those people.
I miss the phone calls.
I miss the birthday songs.
I miss hearing about the cats.
I miss the food critiques.
I miss the sarcasm.
I miss the laughter.
Most of all, I miss my friend.
Somewhere, I imagine Nancy has already found the cats, inspected the menu, organized everybody else’s business, and informed Heaven exactly how things should be run.
And if anyone out there disagrees?
Well…
That’s just too da** bad.
❤️ Miss you, Nancy. Thank you for every laugh, every adventure, every argument, and every mile of a friendship that started with a taxi ride and became family. You were one of a kind.
Our friendship continued long after culinary school. I’m so sorry for your loss, she was one in a million. By the way, we have a painting from Robert (husband) of Harsens Island. And I have some of her beautiful sewing projects. She was a dear and will really be missed by her friends..