June Goodson, 84, switchboard operator

In the 1940s, June Goodson joined the 6 million American women thrown into the work force during World War II, a group known collectively as “Rosie the Riveter.”

She worked at Lockheed and did a brief stint at the Atlanta Police Department before settling in at American Freight as a PBX operator for more than 30 years.

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Family photo

June Goodson, shown at a Christmas party last month, worked at Lockheed in the 1940s and operated a freight company switchboard for more than 30 years.

“I remember calling her at work, hearing her transferring calls before yelling at me to ‘get your butt back to school,’” said her middle son, J. Barry Griswell of Des Moines, Iowa. “That was back when switchboards had 900 lines, before voice mail and cellphones.”

June Miller Sumlin Griswell Goodson, 84, died Wednesday of lung cancer. The funeral will be at 11 a.m. Saturday at H.M. Patterson & Son Arlington Chapel, Sandy Springs, which is handling arrangements.

Atlanta born and bred, Mrs. Goodson first married at 16 and had two sons, Richard Griswell, of Stone Mountain, and Barry. She divorced, married again and had a third son, Mark Goodson of Sharpsburg.

Barry Griswell said his mother greatly influenced his life, a fact he notes in a book he’s co-written, “The Adversity Paradox.”

“She raised me to be honest, to always tell the truth, the value of hard work and education,” said Mr. Griswell, chairman and retired chief executive officer of Principal Financial Group. “She had an enormous influence on me and was one of a kind, very special.”

Richard Griswell said his mother’s death has caused him to take stock of his life, even more than the deaths of his father and grandparents.

“It’s something when you lose a mother,” he said. “It’s really making me back up and think, and now it’s too late. If you haven’t lost your mother yet, take time to slow down a bit and appreciate what you have.”

Before being sidelined by cancer, Mrs. Goodson bowled in a league, proud of her best score of 178 and three “turkeys” — three strikes in a row.

A widow for about a dozen years, Mrs. Goodson lived at Merrill Gardens, an assisted-living complex in Dunwoody, where she maintained her competitive nature in Scrabble, bingo and Pokeno games.

“Oh, she loved that game, Pokeno,” said Jean Ashley, a neighbor and friend of six years. “When she got the cancer so bad, she quit everything but Pokeno.”

Mrs. Ashley remembered when Mrs. Goodson won first place in a Halloween costume contest. “She’d dressed up like Goldilocks with long blond curls. She really looked funny,” she said.

They enjoyed taking a bus into town to shop, and Mrs. Ashley liked to tease her about buying so many staples for just one person.

Mrs. Ashley last saw her friend two days before she died.

“I went over there Monday night and took her some chocolate bars, which she really liked,” she said. “I kissed her goodbye and left.”

Barry Griswell said his mother always kept herself looking nice and young, often to her sons’ embarrassment.

“She wore beautiful wigs and kept her nails up so she looked about 60 even though she was nearly 85,” he said. “My brother and I were sometimes mistaken for her husband.”

Friend Jo Knox said the frequent mix-up was a story Mrs. Goodson loved telling.

“When she was in the hospital having her third son, her two other sons came to visit,” she said. “Well, they were so big and mature-looking, and she looked so young, that the nurses asked which one was the father. They said, ‘No, we’re the half-brothers.’ “

In addition to her sons, Mrs. Goodson is survived by seven grandchildren, five great-grandchildren and four sisters.