Virginia Hammond 1973 – 2026

Virginia Lyn (Riedlinger) Hammond burst into the world the way she seemed to do many things: with brightness, urgency, and just a little bit of mischief.

She was born to Jim and Mary Riedlinger in the early hours of July 6, 1973, in Plentywood, Montana. Her Grandpa Bucklin, sent home to wait, didn’t have to wait long before receiving the call that she had arrived. By morning, he had a flat tire, a brand-new granddaughter, and a sense that this child might keep everyone on their toes! He was right.

Virginia’s early years were spent between Wolf Point, MT, and her grandparents’ farm near Redstone, MT, a place where childhood meant cousins, animals, open space, and imagination that ran wild. She made mud pies (and probably sampled them) with her neighbor and great childhood friend Justin, and she trailed closely behind her older brother Reid, sometimes to his annoyance. She also inserted herself into whatever home renovation project her parents were working on. By age four, she’d claimed a hammer of her own. Early one morning, Jim and Mary heard footsteps on the roof and knew it wasn’t one of Santa’s reindeer. It was Virginia, checking out the job. That instinct to figure things out, to build, and to not be afraid of trying never left her.

At five, she moved with her family to the remote village of Emmonak, Alaska, continuing a childhood that would unfold largely in Native Alaskan communities. There were no roads, only snow machines, and Virginia could often be found riding in front of her dad, bundled up in a handmade parka and seal skin mukluks, usually falling asleep mid-ride. The Eskimo ladies adored her. She learned their ways, their humor, and their resilience.