How do you honor and celebrate an extraordinary life like Nana's? It's an awesome task but I share with you my humble effort. Without a Covid Pandemic, I would've been able to share this at her funeral service. To make sure everyone was safe, a graveside service on December 10th, 2020 had to suffice. It all feels unfinished, so there's plans for a Celebration of Life for Nana at St. John's United Methodist this September, her birthday month. I will keep you posted.
Since my last post, Nana has been joined in Heaven by my sister, Sharon Miller. Although she was having complications from cancer and chemo, Covid was the culprit that took her life too. As a family, we are devastated. In 2020, we lost my older brother Wayne to Parkinsons Disease in October and Nana to Covid in December. Sharon passed away February 17, 2021. In the future, I'll have a post about Sharon and Nana together. For now, I have to believe they are all our guardian angels, enjoying Heaven and pain-free while surrounded in love and light.
Eulogy
for Deanie Rhone by her daughter, Diane Rhone, March 2021
Thirty years ago I worked in a business office that
frowned on personal phone calls. My mom called me anyway. One day my co-worker
and friend Cathy heard me complaining about one of my mom’s phone calls. Cathy,
whose mom passed away when she was a young woman, said to me, “Someday, you’ll give anything to hear her
voice again.”
It’s now my someday. Since December 6, 2020, I live in
a world without Mommy. By the way, I always called her Mommy, not Mom, not
Mother. Even as an adult, I can’t call
her anything else. I miss mornings
hearing her voice on the phone. As soon as I said ‘Hi Mommy’ and I heard her
say ‘hello’, I knew how she felt. I knew if she was tired, if she was upset, if
she was in pain or if she was happy. I called her every day to let her know I
was thinking of her and cared about how she was doing. I knew she cared about
me, too. Even if she was having a bad day, she always asked how I was
doing.
Mommy was a brave woman. In 1943, my dad was drafted
into the Army during World War II. In
April of that year, at the age of nineteen, Mommy traveled by train from
Elimsport, Pennsylvania to Austin, Texas. Alone, with only $30 and a determination
to be with my dad, she made the arduous three day trip that included an
overnight stay in a hotel in Vinita, Oklahoma. One of the first scenes Mommy saw
as the train crossed into Texas was a field of Blue Bonnets. Mommy loved them at first sight and Texas Blue
Bonnets became her favorite flower.
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Mommy's Beloved Texas Blue Bonnets
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With Daddy stationed at Camp Swift, she moved into a boarding house on
Nuese Street in Austin. She made friends and the owner of the boarding house,
Mabel, found Mommy a job at Steck Publishing Company close to the State
Capitol. Pretty impressive for a country girl with a Pikes Peak eighth grade
education.
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Mommy and Daddy, Austin, Texas, 1943
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In February, 1944, Mommy followed Daddy to Rolla,
Missouri and stayed with him there until he shipped overseas that summer. With
Daddy fighting in Italy, Mommy returned home to live with her parents, my Grandma
and Pap Tilburg. In November 1944, she gave birth to her first child, Wayne.
Daddy didn’t see Wayne until he returned from the war. By then, Wayne was nine
months old.
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Wayne as a Baby
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After the war, Mommy and Daddy lived in an apartment
on Ann Street in Williamsport where Sharon was born. Bill and I arrived while
Daddy and Mommy lived at the Bower place, a run-down farm house outside
Allenwood they rented from the government.
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| Wayne and Diane and Sharon at the Bower Place, 1951 |
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Bill at the Bower Place, 6 months old, 1952
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My first memories of Mommy are at the Bower Place. I
especially remember Saturday night — bath night in the old country kitchen.
With no running water in the house, Mommy had to carry the water up a hill,
heat the water on the cook stove and fill the square galvanized tubs – twice –
once for the girls and once for the boys.
In 1957, we all got
excited when we moved a few miles away to the Staggert place. We had running
water for the first time, and, shortly after we moved, Daddy installed an
inside toilet! It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Sometimes our well went dry
and, as kids, we helped Mommy haul water in milk cans from a local spring. Sometimes
the drains clogged so we had to not only carry the water in, we had to carry
the water out.
In the winter, we covered the drafty windows with
plastic to keep out the wind. There was no heat upstairs, so Sharon and I slept
in flannel pajamas, chenille bathrobes and fuzzy socks to keep warm. In the summer, we kept the bed close to the
screened windows, hoping for any whiff of a breeze. No matter the conditions,
Mommy had to cook, clean, do laundry and take care of Daddy and us four kids.
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Wayne and Sharon and Diane and Bill at the Staggert Place, Summer, 1957
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Speaking of cooking, Mommy was a great cook. My
childhood favorites; buckwheat cakes and sausage covered with King Syrup that
we bought in metal gallon cans from Holmes General Store; fresh-from-our-garden
green beans and white potatoes in a pool of rich ham broth; and pork and Silver
Floss sauerkraut with fluffy mashed potatoes (real potatoes, not instant)
sprinkled with lots of black pepper and served in the white mixing bowl from Mommy’s
Sunbeam Mixer.
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Mommy in the kitchen at the Staggert Place
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As kids, we were starved when we came home from
school. Mommy flew through the door at 4 o’clock from her factory job at
Montgomery Mills and started supper immediately. Because we ate an early
supper, by 9 o’clock we were hungry again. So Mommy pulled out the old
tarnished fry pan. All that was left of the handle was a metal stick but it was
the best pan to serve up juicy hamburgers made from beef from a local farmer. Sometimes
she would give us money to buy a box mix of Chef Boyardee Pizza from Holmes
Store. We didn’t have the luxury of a pizza pan—we made the pizza on an old
cookie sheet.
Mommy’s evenings were full of work but her long days at
her factory job were grueling. When Mommy started working at Montgomery Mills
in 1958, she was paid 75 cents an hour to work in the ball spinning department.
She had to spin wispy rayon thread onto tiny wooden balls by using a machine
she cranked by hand. To start the thread on the ball, she had to apply glue
with her fingers onto the balls. By the end of the day, her fingers were
crusted with caked glue.
The room where she worked was sweltering in the
summer, freezing in the winter and filled with toxic fumes from the glue. In
those days there were no safety regulations for workers like Mommy. She wore no
mask and the room was poorly ventilated. Just to meet production goals, she had
to complete at least 13 gross of the rayon balls every day. At 144 balls per
gross, that's almost 2000 balls! Every day Mommy’s boss, Kate Grady, pounded
her fist on the table, demanding her to produce more and more so Kate could
earn a supervisor bonus. By the late 1970’s, when Mommy’s job was eliminated,
she earned less than $3 per hour.
Many of us in the family keep these balls Mommy had to
make in plain sight to remind us that, even when we think we’re having a tough
day, Mommy had to endure much worse.
Growing up, did I appreciate that Mommy worked all day
at Montgomery Mills, worked all evening doing household chores and collapsed in
bed just to get up and do it all over again the next day? Sadly, back then I
didn’t. But now, I realize all she did for us.
In another life, I think Mommy could’ve been a
best-selling author. Her writing skills first surfaced when I was in grade
school trying to write a poem about autumn for a school assignment. Of course it was due the next day. I sat at
the kitchen table whining that I didn’t know what to write. Mommy was dragging
clothes from a wringer washer in the cellar to the clothes line in the upstairs
hall. Between wash loads, she created verses of poetry until I had the required
three verses. When I got my paper back, I got an A – well, Mommy got an A. In
1961, that poem was chosen by the school to go in a book of a collection of
poems. So I guess Mommy is a published author.
During our childhoods, Mommy struggled for years with
too much work, not enough money, and a husband who drank too much and ran
around with other women. Mommy could’ve
made the decision to call it quits. Who knows how our lives would’ve turned
out? Maybe we would’ve been on welfare or in foster homes. Instead, she stuck
it out to see all her kids graduate from high school.
After Bill graduated
from high school, Mommy drew on that same courage that took her to Austin Texas
years before. She made the move to go it alone. But she wasn’t really alone.
Not only did she have four kids who loved and supported her, she had her
brothers and sisters who also offered their assistance. In return, Mommy was a good
sister to her siblings. She was a loyal companion to her oldest sister
Elizabeth. We called her Auntie – Mommy called her Lib. Auntie and Mommy spent
a lot of time together, especially after Uncle Luther died in 1980. Auntie’s
death in 1988 at the young age of 77 left a hole in Mommy’s heart. For many
years, Alzheimer’s afflicted her other sister Grace. No one was a more frequent
visitor to Valley View Nursing Home than Mommy. During all those years, it didn’t
matter that Aunt Grace often didn’t know Mommy. Grace was her sister and she
was faithful to her until her death in 1994. She loved her older brother John
and liked calling herself his kid sister, even when she was saying good-by to
him at the Gatehouse Hospice Center in May, 2012. Ben was the youngest sibling
and Mommy always called him the baby of the family. Her baby brother died in
August 2020 at 89, leaving Mommy the only living Tilburg sibling.
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The
Tilburg Siblings: Ben, Elizabeth Grace, John, Deanie 1983
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In 1979, Mommy’s Montgomery Mills job ended and she
was too young for retirement. Sharon offered her a job taking care of her five
month old daughter Lori. Mommy got to apply all her motherly skills upon a new
generation. Sharon dubbed her ‘Nana’ and Lori, and a few years later, Jeff, got
the chance to spend all the years of their childhood with their Nana.
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Nana
with Sharon & Lori & Jeff September 1981
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In 1993, Mommy sold her house on Melvina Street in
Montgomery to move into senior housing just outside of Montgomery. When visiting
Mommy’s apartment at Houston Ridge, it was easy to see all the things she
loved. Family pictures of her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren,
scenes of Texas Blue Bonnets, a slate artwork of Pikes Peak School, lots of
wall calendars, multiple clocks and a refrigerator full of magnets— gifts to
her from every traveling family member. Always close to her was her Word-Find
Books, her portable phone and her TV remote. We kept a 3x5 card close by with
the channels for all her favorite shows—Channel 16 News, Price is Right, Wheel
of Fortune and Jeopardy. She started every day by reading her Sun Gazette. I
have never seen anyone enjoy her newspaper like Mommy. In addition to the Sun
Gazette, her reading included The Luminary, Country Magazine and Readers Digest.
Mommy loved to laugh and she looked forward to the ‘funny pages’ in the Sun
Gazette and the jokes in the Readers Digest. As I recall her delightful
laughter, it warms my heart and is a priceless memory.
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Mommy
in her apartment in Houston Ridge, Montgomery, PA
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Mommy
outside her apartment #18 at Houston Ridge, 2013
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Mommy loved her independence. Her driver’s license and
her car gave her the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Every day, she
looked forward to hopping in her car and going to May’s Drive In in Hughesville.
For many years, she went there every day for lunch. Same menu every
day—hamburger plain, dish of chocolate and vanilla twist soft serve and coffee
with extra creamers. Her meal was specially made by the resident cook, Steve.
As soon as Mommy walked in the door, he shouted, “Deanie’s here!” I always said
it was like Norm walking into the Cheers Bar in Boston. Steve knew to cook her
hamburger just right – small and flat. In later years, she went every day for
breakfast instead of lunch. Then she ordered one pancake—Mommy instructed Steve
to make it thin and small. Except during my monthly visits, Mommy visited May’s
alone. She wasn’t really alone though. There were a group of regulars that
greeted her every time she arrived. Like the father and son who always called
her ‘Mom.’ Or the middle aged man who chatted with her and who told me Mommy
reminded him of his late mom. Another
regular was Gary, the pharmacist at Ben Franklin where she got her
prescriptions. The waitresses all knew Mommy and, whenever possible, made sure
she got her favorite booth—the one in the corner with no one to bang on her
seat and hurt her delicate back.
After her May’s lunch or breakfast, Mommy usually
stopped at the Weis Store and or Dollar General. When Mommy was 91, she had a
terrible fall and broke her hip, her pelvis and her ankle. That ended her
driving days but she often talked wistfully about being able to hop in her car
and drive to her favorite spots.
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Mommy
July 2010 with her 2002 Chevy Cavalier
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Mommy
at May’s September 2000 with Steve, the cook and Kathy, Manager
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Mommy’s independence also gave her the opportunity to
do something else she loved – attend St John’s United Methodist Church, the
little church on the hill outside Elimsport. Mommy loved going to church ever
since she was baptized and confirmed in the church in May 1978 by then Rev.
James Sunderland Jr. After Rev. Sunderland left, she became great friends with Pastor
Max Furman. During Max’s time at St. John’s, he was called into service with
the National Guard in Iraq. Remembering what it was like in wartime, Mommy
became Max’s pen pal and they corresponded with frequent letters during his
time overseas. When Pastor Mike Hill came to St. John’s, they developed a bond
and friendship that lasted until her passing. In 2000, when St. John’s was
installing stained glass windows in the church, we (Sharon and family, Bill and Marcia and family, Michelle and Horatio –
Bill’s daughter and husband – and I) contributed so there would be a stained glass window in Mommy’s name. A lasting
tribute to Mommy’s love for the St. John’s church, its pastors and all the
members of its parish.
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Stained
Glass Window and Mommy at St. John’s Church, October, 2000
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During the 1970’s, Mommy started what she called her
diary. Every day she recorded in a spiral notebook a little about each day’s
events. She documented birthdays, hospitalizations, baptisms, deaths and snow
storms. If anyone needed the date of a past surgery or how many inches of snow
fell on January 20th, 1979, Mommy looked it up in her diary. Although
it wasn’t meant as a diary of feelings and emotions, she did sometimes express
anger or vent about a bad day. She kept those diaries until her arthritic
fingers could no longer write. Looking back on those diaries is a glimpse of
the multi-faceted woman Mommy was and the courage and determination she exemplified
in her everyday life.
After Mommy had serious health challenges in 2010, she
started writing poems and short stories about her life. We were blessed to get a
snap shot of her memories—-both good and bad—-in what she chose to write. She
wrote about her childhood, Pikes Peak School, her trip to Austin, taking care
of Lori and Jeff and visiting me in Virginia. Here’s one of her stories about her memory of
visiting Virginia and attending my Toastmasters Club meetings (Toastmasters is a club for Public Speaking) :
Blue Ridge
Toastmasters Virginia
Many times I
visited Ruckersville, VA and went to Toastmasters meetings with Diane held in a
room in the library at Albemarle Square in Charlottesville.
When the
meeting started, a large US flag was brought in from the library by Joe and Ian
to Pledge Allegiance to the flag. Joe
Blair is a Rabbi and Ian Henry is an Australian. Bruce Pierce, Sergeant at Arms, did the
welcome
The meetings
were very interesting with speeches and table topics. I was called “Mom of the Toastmasters” and
they always told me to come back.
Great
Memory!
Written by Deanie Rhone, July 12, 2011
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Mommy
& Diane in Virginia June 2001
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When Mommy started to write, I got inspired to write
also. In 2012, I started a blog called, ‘Nana News’, to capture and record
moments about Mommy that we might too easily forget.
I’m so grateful Mommy lived to be 97. She gave us the
gift of time to appreciate her. I treasured Mommy— every day— every visit—
every phone call. Today, as my friend Cathy predicted, I’d give anything to
hear her voice again.
Rest in peace Mommy till we see each other again. I
love you.
