Cynthia “Cindy” Post, beloved mother, grandmother, sister and friend, died on July 11, 2016, at the Eastern Maine Medical Center after an unsuccessful treatment for pneumonia and congestive heart failure. She was 73 years old.
She is survived by her sons, Brendan and Liam Goodman; her daughters-in-law, Vicka and Theresa; her grandchildren, Graham, Gabriel and Bella; her sister, Diana Post-Hall; her brother-in-law, Cliff Hall; and the many friends she made along the way.
Cynthia was born in Philadelphia, PA, in October of 1942, to Edith and Joseph Post. During her early years, Cynthia enjoyed spending
time with her Irish grandparents, Margaret and George Wilson. These
caring people were devoted to her. Cynthia remembered and spoke of
their loving kindness throughout her life.
Cynthia was educated at Abington Friends School (AFS) where the Quaker values of compassion, love of learning and independent thought remained with her throughout her life. Cynthia came to enjoy working with children as a result of helping out at the family’s nursery school, which was located in their home on Cheltenham Avenue.
A slender girl, Cynthia studied first ballet then modern dance. She excelled at choreography and performing while in high school. After graduating from AFS, she briefly served as a teaching assistant in the modern dance department at the University of Pennsylvania. She then moved to New York City at age seventeen to work at a magazine and study dance under Martha Graham.
In 1970, Cynthia married Dr. Paul Goodman while living in City Island, New York. The couple had two sons together, Brendan and Liam.
The family moved to Hancock, Maine, in 1981, where Cynthia resided the rest of her life. Cynthia and Paul separated in 1983 and were later divorced.
While raising her sons as a single mom and briefly caring for her ailing mother, Cynthia worked as a substance abuse counselor at New Horizons. She soon earned degrees in Movement Therapy and Counseling Psychology from Antioch Graduate School, College of the Atlantic, The New School and the Laban Institute of Movement Studies. In 1992, Cynthia began working as a Child Protective Case Worker for the State of Maine and also served as an adoption worker and supervisor until her retirement in 2011.
Always gregarious with a comedic wit, Cynthia was a free spirit who loved taking classes, listening to music and playing the bodhran. She acted in several plays with the Penobscot Theatre Company and the New Surry Theatre and continued to dance throughout her life. She also had a soft spot for animals and often took in stray dogs and cats that had nowhere else to go.
Cynthia had a penchant for social justice and an innate compassion for all people that crossed her path. Upon her retirement, she became very involved with the Community Union of Ellsworth, whose goals include raising the minimum wage and fighting inequality. The work they did together was very important to her and she could often be found demonstrating, picketing and asking people to think about the choices they make in life. Additionally, Cynthia was a regular volunteer for the Welcome Table soup kitchen and the Democratic Party of Hancock County.
Anyone that was lucky enough to spend any time with Cynthia knows that the world has lost a fervent defender of the needy, an open hearted soul, a lover of life itself. She will be sorely missed.
Cynthia’s wish was to be cremated and have her ashes scattered in the ocean. To honor her life, there will be a Quaker meeting and dance party (as per her wish) on July 23rd at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ellsworth from 1-4 pm. The address is 121 Bucksport Road, Ellsworth, ME 04605. Food will be provided but feel free to bring a dish if you are so inclined. All are welcome.
In Cynthia’s memory, friends may volunteer at, or send donations to, The Welcome Table soup kitchen. Please send to: Welcome Table, c/o First Congregational Church of Elllsworth, P.O. Box 12, Ellsworth, ME 04605

The Peace of Wild Things
By Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.