Julia Claus Blackman

March 2, 1958 – March 31, 2025

Julia Claus Blackman passed away surrounded by love, leaving behind a legacy of grace.

Born on March 2, 1958, in Des Plaines, Illinois, Julie was the daughter of Marcia and Robert Claus. She shared a special bond with her sister, Elizabeth (Libby) Smolik, and carried with her the values instilled in their early family life. Julie’s academic path led her to the University of Iowa, where she met her husband, Clark Blackman II, and earned a Bachelor of Business Administration.

Julie’s professional path was marked by innovation and care. She first served as a management information specialist at a bank, but, drawn to the skies, she soon began creating new technology systems for the airlines, first at Northwest and then at United, where she held the role of global head of airport automation. The hum of the airport in the morning thrilled her, but her talents extended well beyond flight: Julie led a literacy non-profit in Detroit, and she shared her math mind with middle schoolers as an algebra teacher in Humble ISD. She was also involved in the National Charity League in Kingwood, Texas, where she gave her time to the community. In her later years, Julie discovered a passion for Pilates, becoming certified as a Level III instructor, and she never gave up her flute, which she’d played in high school band. Above all, though, she devoted herself to motherhood, to being an impossibly loving, knowing, and accepting mom to her twins, Jenny and Clark.

Julie’s great joy was her family. Clark II, her husband of almost forty-five years, could make her laugh like no one else, enticing her into having more fun. She was the proud mother of Jennifer Blackman McIntosh and her husband, Jackson, and of Clark Blackman III and his wife, Katy. Her role as Grandma Julie to Charlotte and Clark (Mason) brought her so much happiness. She cherished her afternoons spent sitting in the audience as Charlotte danced or Mason played every sport known to man. They both impressed her endlessly. She loved being Mom, being Grandma Julie.

To know Julie was to adore her, truly. She had an expansive definition of family, one that included her husband, her children, her dear friends, and even her children’s dear friends. She had a tender heart and could listen to her family for hours, eager to help as an understanding presence, nodding along in sympathy. (And was there ever a more gung-ho, do-it-herself researcher?)

Julie was a planner, through and through—thoughtful when orchestrating epic family vacations, bigtime Christmases, and shocking birthday surprises (like a trip to Disney for the twins’ tenth). She always wanted to treat others to something special, and she gave wonderful goosebumps at bedtime. Her family will remember her as a generous supporter and a cheerleader, with an urge to solve the problem, fix the tech thing, kiss the scrape and make it better. She took such good care of all of us.

Julie’s personal life was filled with radiant warmth and curiosity. She introduced her best friends and all of Kingwood to the cosmo cocktail, obsessed over new gadgets (a total computer geek), and took comfort in her Bible (and a clean house). She’d never turn down coffee with her daughter, lunch with the Alpha Wealth boys, or a celebratory family dinner out. She was a knockout in every room she walked into, but her loveliness invited you in, welcoming you. She could make any stranger feel at ease in her splendor, and this made her wholly beautiful—a beauty animated by her generosity of spirit.

As much as Julie insisted on honoring occasions both large and small, nothing beat "family-room time" and evenings full of the people and the pets (the little white dogs!) she doted on—listening to everyone's life story or watching “Seinfeld” with the Clarks and “Gilmore Girls” with her own girls, Jenny and Gram. (And mornings were always brighter with Regis Philbin.) She delighted in throwing sleepovers in the pool house with Charlotte and Mason, preparing her special popcorn. She had an eye for soft touches in the home, and she could be a perfectionist, but didn’t we all reap the rewards? Julie welcomed the family—with her expansive definition of family—into her warmth, a cosmo ready for anyone who needed one. When the house filled with Andrea Boccelli, Brother Iz, or Chopin (featuring son Clark on the piano), she’d indulge, close her eyes, and sway along.

Julia Claus Blackman lived at the center of her family’s universe, with a gravitational pull that insisted on bringing us closer together, though she often wanted nothing more than to watch as we lived it up, enjoying our lives—just like she’d planned. She cared deeply, loved completely, and gave us everything she had. She is survived by her husband, her children, her grandchildren, her sister, and the countless friends who admired her. She will be profoundly missed.