Honoring Nana - a Eulogy of her Precious Life

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.

Mommy's Beloved Texas Blue Bonnets

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.

Mommy and Daddy, Austin, Texas, 1943

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.

Wayne as a Baby

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. 

Wayne and Diane and Sharon at the Bower Place, 1951

Bill at the Bower Place, 6 months old, 1952

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.

Wayne and Sharon and Diane and Bill at the Staggert Place,  Summer, 1957

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. 

Mommy in the kitchen at the Staggert Place

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. 

The Tilburg Siblings: Ben, Elizabeth Grace, John, Deanie 1983

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.

Nana with Sharon & Lori & Jeff September 1981

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.   

Mommy in her apartment in Houston Ridge, Montgomery, PA

 

Mommy outside her apartment #18 at Houston Ridge, 2013

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.

Mommy July 2010 with her 2002 Chevy Cavalier

Mommy at May’s September 2000 with Steve, the cook and Kathy, Manager

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. 

Stained Glass Window and Mommy at St. John’s Church, October, 2000

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 20^th, 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

Mommy & Diane in Virginia June 2001

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.