JUDY’S SONG
Published in the July 18, 2026 edition.
The year was 1977.
Michael Bornfeld had two tickets to a John Denver show. He had been planning to take his girlfriend, but she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore.
There was a fellow divorcee he knew – Judy Rondberg. A mutual friend had been trying to set them up, and she was a looker, but it was already Wednesday. The show was Saturday. It was a longshot.
But sometimes longshots come in.
She had planned to take her two daughters camping on Sunday, but Saturday was free. Sure.
Immediately, Michael noticed through a series of small observations that his date was different.
First, they held hands as they walked to the venue, and despite their height difference – Michael over 6′ and Judy 5’2″, Michael noticed that their gait was in perfect sync.
When they arrived, there was a long line for the women’s bathroom, so Michael scouted out the men’s bathroom to see if there was an empty stall. Yes. So Judy marched right in and took care of business. This was a gal who could roll with the tide.
During the show, it got a little chilly. Michael gave Judy his coat. But she could see he was a bit chilled, too. So she took his hand and put it between her knees. It wasn’t sexual. Just … natural.
The concert concludes. Michael takes his date home. A demure kiss goodnight. A wonderful evening concluded.
Or so he thought.
At about 1 a.m., Judy called him and told him to come over.
He arrives, and she says, “I didn’t get a chance to show you my place.”
So she shows him around – bathrooms and bedrooms and closets and kitchen. Before she delivers the haymaker line.
“I just wanted you to know the layout of the house you’d be waking up in, so you wouldn’t feel lost.”
Game, set and match.
They were together for the next 49 years, and married for 48 of them.
Judy died peacefully at 2:22 a.m. on July 2 in their beautiful Swall Meadows home, in the presence of family and surrounded by love.
Before she was a Bornfeld, or a Rondberg, Judy was an Allen, born in Santa Monica, California in December, 1941.
She was the daughter of Geraldine (Galveston, Tex.) and John (Saskatchewan) Allen.
Her brother Chas Allen was a helicopter test pilot in the Vietnam era and died in the early ‘70s.
Her younger sister Sheri lives with her husband Greg Yoder in Hawaii.
Growing up, Judy was a gifted ballet dancer.
She was also an adventurer and spent her childhood riding her bike throughout the streets of Santa Monica and Westchester, climbing trees, fishing with her brother and dad at the Santa Monica pier. She spent summers at Malibou Lake in the Santa Monica Mountains, and first came to the Sierra on fishing trips at the age of 6 or 7.
She had a love affair with the mountains and the ocean. Both are in her soul. A true California girl.
At 15, she lived in Mexico City with a family and continued her love of travel throughout her life.
Judy graduated from Westchester High School in 1959.
She then enrolled at Santa Monica City College, graduating with a degree in cosmetology.
She became a great hairstylist in Los Angeles. She was so proficient and sought out for her expertise. She earned money to pay for travel in Europe and Egypt for six weeks with a friend. And returned to continue building a wide-ranging clientele.
She married Robert Rondberg in December, 1963. They had two daughters, Shanna and Danelle.
During her divorce years, Judy was creative and plucky and resilient. She taught gymnastics, made burlap bags, cut hair, worked as an aide at the high school; she did what she had to do to survive.
She remarried in 1978. Each brought two daughters to the marriage.
Michael recalls early on attending a parenting class together, both recognizing how difficult it might be to blend their family into a unit.
But then, after listening to two hours of drama-filled horror stories, Judy and Michael looked at each other and said, “That’s not us, we’ll be fine.”
And they were. Their parenting styles were simpatico.
They shared a love of live music and dancing, and time spent at the beach, camping and skiing. They loved cooking and celebrating any and all special occasions with family and friends.
In 1990, when their youngest daughter went off to college, Judy and Michael moved to Mammoth Lakes, and eventually, Swall Meadows.
While living in Mammoth and Swall Judy worked several jobs in the community and was the office manager of Michael’s law practice.
As Michael said, “I really respected her reading of people … to the point where I had her pick a few juries.”
But she really made her mark as a volunteer in a number of charitable organizations, notably with the Mammoth Hospital Auxiliary. She started in the early ‘90s and worked every job and held various positions on the board of directors before she was handpicked by two of the founders of the Auxiliary to carry on their good work in the community. She played a huge role in the running of the Cast Off, and in its transition to the modern age, transitioning it from an all-cash business into the electronic payment era.
As with most change, there was kicking and screaming all the way.
She was also one of the early, if not original, volunteers for the Mammoth Lakes Foundation.
What made Judy special was her kindness, her empathy … she was dyslexic, so she wasn’t conventionally learned.
Instead, she developed all of those other traits and skills – grit and intuition and warmth – which made people gravitate to her.
Judy just always seemed backlit by a sunset.
She is survived by her husband Michael, her daughers Shanna (Greg) Bissonette, Danelle Rondberg (Ken Scott), Heather Bornfeld (Jonathan Wang) and Rachel Bornfeld Blauser (Jason) and six grandchildren; Sara, Annalee, Noah, Joshua, Tanner and Eva.
When she passed, to send her off to her next place, Michael serenaded her with Annie’s Song, written by John Denver for his wife on a chairlift in Aspen:
You fill up my senses, like a night in a forest/Like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain/Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean/You fill up my senses, come fill me again
Come let me love you, let me give my life to you/Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms/Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you/Come let me love you, come love me again
