Still Showing Up: Connie Livesay’s Life of Work, Wit, and Quiet Faithfulness

Connie Livesay would be the first to tell you there’s nothing remarkable about her life. And yet, at 93, she still works full time and drives herself there every day. Ask her why, and her answer comes quickly, with a smile: “Because if I retire, I’d be home and would have to clean my windows.”

That is Connie—sharp, humble, funny, practical, and far more remarkable than she would ever admit.

In fact, when asked to be interviewed, Connie could not quite understand why anyone would want to hear her story. She does not see herself as someone important or impressive. In her words, she has always thought of herself more as “the worker and not the chief”—someone willing to do the work, help where she is needed, and never make much fuss about herself.

But maybe that is exactly what makes her story worth telling.

Connie grew up in Richmond during the Great Depression, in a home where work was simply part of life. Her parents had a garden to grow their own food. Her mother sewed clothes. Nothing was wasted, and no one sat around waiting for life to be easy.

“I’ve always enjoyed working,” Connie said.

That early lesson never left her.

She met her husband, Tommy, at a skating rink after a friend invited her to go skating in Colonial Heights. Tommy could skate well, and before long, the two were seeing each other often. Connie laughs remembering that she did not rush anything, but once their relationship began, she does not think they went a day without seeing or talking to one another.

It’s a detail she shares almost in passing, but it feels like something more than coincidence—years later, her son Timmy would meet his wife, Christy, at a skating rink, too.

Tommy was a carpenter, and in the 1950s, he helped build a cottage in Lewisetta. What started as a weekend place eventually became the doorway to a whole new life on the river.

Around 1970, Connie and Tommy became part owners of Coan River Marina. Before long, they bought out the other partners and took it on themselves. Tommy worked on wooden boats, while Connie did whatever needed done—bookkeeping, gas sales on the pier, office work, and anything else the day required. Her mother ran the marina store and worked there well into her 90s.

For more than two decades, the marina was a working part of the community. Crabbers and oystermen came through. Boats pulled in for repairs, gas, and help. Before cell phones and internet updates, the marina was on the call list when boats went missing, and Connie remembers how often they were left wondering whether those people had ever been found.

Life at the marina was not glamorous. It was long days, changing tides, hard work, and constant responsibility. But Connie never seemed to mind work. She was built for it.

After the marina years, she brought that same dependability to the Northumberland County Commissioner of Revenue’s office, where she began working in 1988. What started as part-time help with boats eventually became a full-time position. Today, she serves as a Deputy Commissioner, a title she humbly explains is necessary because of the kind of information she handles.

Her work has changed over the years. Paper records became computer records. The county grew. More people moved in, especially after COVID, bringing boats, vehicles, property, and plenty of paperwork with them.

Connie has kept up.

She still handles complicated details. She still shows up. And when asked why she has not retired yet, beneath the humor there is also loyalty. In recent years, when a coworker faced serious health challenges, Connie stayed because she did not want to leave the office short-handed.

“You just don’t leave somebody in the lurch,” she said.

That one sentence may say more about Connie than anything else.

She is not chasing attention. She is not trying to prove anything. She is simply faithful—to her work, to her people, to her responsibilities, and to the steady rhythm of showing up.

Connie still drives to work. She still enjoys sports, sewing, music, and her church family at Heathsville United Methodist Church. She has two grandchildren and a family who clearly treasures her.

And while she may not think of herself as the chief, Connie Livesay has lived the kind of life that quietly leads by example.

A life rooted in work.

A life marked by humor.

A life of showing up when it would be easier not to.

And perhaps that is why, at 93 years old, Connie is not just still working.

She is still teaching the rest of us what faithfulness looks like.

It’s people like Connie who make this community so special—and why sharing these stories means so much to all of us at Bay River Realty.