The Carbondale Community Oven will bear the name of Linda Romero Criswell, the passionate baker and community builder who died on June 3, 2026, honoring her legacy of shared resources and connection.

The Carbondale Community Oven sits on a corner lot, its brick facade weathered by high-altitude sun and winter winds. Inside, the air still holds the scent of yeast and woodsmoke, a lingering testament to a woman who believed that the flavor of bread shared has no equal. That phrase is etched into the oven itself, a quiet mantra for a community that is now preparing to rename the structure in honor of Linda Romero Criswell.
Linda died at home on June 3, 2026, of natural causes. She didn’t go out with a bang or a long decline; she went out during a visit that had been planned before she fell ill, surrounded by hospice support and family. It was fitting. The woman who once hitchhiked across the country and got dropped off in Breckenridge by the Kansas City Outlaws never really stopped moving, even when she settled into the quiet rhythm of Carbondale life.
Picture this: a young Linda Marie Reidland, born in Chicago and raised in Park Ridge, packing up after just one year at Lake Forest College because adventure called louder than academia. She worked with kids in migrant camps, spoke several languages, and eventually found her way west. She met Abe Romero in Breckenridge, married him, and together they ran a property management company and a restaurant. They had a son, Bram. When Abe passed, Linda didn’t stay put. She moved through Aspen before buying a house in Carbondale in the early 90s.
Here’s the thing though — she didn’t just buy a house. She built her permanent home on the back of the lot. And it was there, while Russ Criswell was contracted to do her plumbing, that she convinced him dating her exclusively would be worth it. They married in 1996.
Linda was a renaissance woman who put little stock in a consistent career. She wrote two books, Since You Asked and Watermelon Snow. She invented a board game called Perspective. She breathed new life into the Carbondale Historical Society because her love of history wasn’t just academic; it was about connecting people. Creating community influenced everything she did, from singing to playing Scrabble. She aspired to a blessed life of ordinary days: conversing, quilting, cuddling her cats, and gardening.
But it was her love of baking that left the most tangible mark on the town. As a student of philosophy and a particular devotee of The Fourth Way, she was a founding member of a meditation group. Yet, it was the simple act of making bread that led to the creation of the Carbondale Community Oven. The oven bears her inscription, and now, it will bear her name.
She is survived by her husband, Russ Criswell; her sister, Kris; her son, Bram; and her stepson, Tom. Her parents, Russell and Marie Reidland, and her first husband, Abe, preceded her in death.
Neighbors are already gathering their thoughts for the celebration of life scheduled for -5 pm on Sunday, July 19, at the Third Street Center. People can email phifilerman@gmail.com to contribute to the event, keeping with Linda’s ethos of shared resources and shared effort.
The oven is cold now, waiting for the next baker. But the space it occupies on the street corner feels different. It’s no longer just a place to bake bread. It’s a monument to a woman who believed the universe was proceeding just as it should, one loaf at a time.





