Marsha Brendlinger, Aspen Hall of Fame Inductee, Dies at 87

The smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies still hangs in the air of the Aspen Valley, even if the hands that baked them are gone. It’s a specific, heavy scent — buttery, sweet, and deeply comforting — that seems to have settled into the floorboards of The Applejack Inn and the dining rooms of The Tower Restaurant. Marsha Ann Brendlinger didn’t just bake; she broadcasted love through dough, turning a simple Tuesday morning into a community event.

She died on May 29, 2026, at 87, with her children by her side. It was a smooth transition, the kind of quiet exit that feels earned after a life spent running the show. Born on November 19, 1938, her mother’s birthday, a detail that suggests a certain familial destiny; Marsha arrived in a world that was about to change dramatically, at least for her.

Picture this: a nice Mormon girl from Provo, Utah, sitting across from Lola, her roommate. They’re waiting for the boys. Enter Jack Alan Brendlinger and Robert Redford, both dashing CU Kappa Sigmas. The story goes that after the first double date, the group realized they should switch partners. Marsha ended up with Jack. That’s how she landed in Aspen in 1963, ready to build and run The Applejack Inn. By 1967, she and Jack were running The Tower Restaurant in Snowmass.

They didn’t just open businesses. They built community by being the community.

This isn’t just nostalgia talking. Marsha and Jack were inducted into the Aspen Hall of Fame in 2009. That’s not a participation trophy. That’s recognition for people who actually showed up, day in and day out, to make a town feel like a home. Marsha was everywhere. She worked at Wildwood Pre-school. She choreographed high school plays. She fed the crowds at the Aspen World Cup Ski Races. She sat on the board for the Aspen School District, the Aspen Youth Center, and the Carbondale Council of the Arts.

And she danced.

Many locals learned their shuffle, ball, and change moves in Marsha’s tap-dancing classes. She even taught tap to the Rugby Team to work on their footwork. The source material notes that when they showed up to one of her classes, they were all in pink leg warmers. It’s a vivid image - tough rugby players in pink leg warmers, trying to keep time. and it tells you everything you need to know about her approach to leadership. She didn’t demand respect; she invited participation.

Her nickname from her husband Jack was “Velcro.” Everything and everybody seemed to stick to her. She opened her house to exchange students from New Zealand, Belgium, Argentina, Spain, and Sweden. People called her “Ma B.” It wasn’t just about hospitality; it was about connection.

But there was another side to her service, one that required standing in the cold. Marsha sold tickets for 23 years at the base of Tiehack at Buttermilk. The source describes it as a “sleepy little” mountain, but the line at her ticket counter was always long. Why? Because conversation and cookies were present, and the skiing could wait. She turned a transaction into a relationship.

She joined Rotary and lived up to their “service above self” motto during the initial Ducky Derby fundraisers. She was a board member for the Aspen School District. She was a mother, a grandmother, a daughter.

When Alzheimer’s began to take her stories, she held onto the color purple. It brought her happiness. It’s what she held onto when the memories faded. Her spirit, the obituary says, will live on in nature’s purple bounty.

That matters because it reminds us that Marsha wasn’t just a business owner or a civic leader. She was the glue. And when the glue dries, you notice the cracks. But in Aspen, the cracks are filled with the memory of cookies, tap shoes, and the sound of a timer dinging.