Monday, May 4, 2015
Dear Kathy, Carmen Mary Jo and family, The earliest memory I have of your mom is looking up at her from the couch at camp, the one at the back, near where the black and white TV and the fireplace used to be. I was lying face up. She had an ice cube wrapped in a pastel hand towel, and she was sweetly encouraging me to open my mouth. I was probably 3 or 4 years old, and I had slipped on the old wooden bridge across the pond, cutting my tongue quite badly. She was calm and reassuring, in a way that made me trust her as if she was my own mom. Then there was the time I was standing on the porch of the camp, and I saw your mom, off in the distance, walking my mom around the far side of the pond. I could make out that my mom was in tears about something – probably because my grandmother’s health was failing at the time – but there was your mom, walking alongside her, again that calm, centered presence, practicing the lost art of listening, and just being there for a good friend. Your mom was always such a selfless listener. So selfless, I now realize, that there were significant gaps in my understanding of her life story that I never heard, probably because she was so intently listening to me. I never knew, for instance, until I read her obituary, that she was the valedictorian of her high school class. Or that she got her Masters in teaching from Columbia. Or that her corneal transplant was one of the first such successful surgeries in the country. Or that her love of bridge (a game I never understood, and still don’t) led her to be named a Life Master by the nation’s guardians of the game. Your mom did more than teach entire generations of students in school. She taught entire generations of our family by example. At a reunion when most of us were still teenagers, I remember my mom remarking about how she had never witnessed a fight, or heard as much as a cross word, at one of our gatherings. In retrospect I think Aunt Gen was one of the big reasons for that. Her door was always open – both literally (to that I can attest as a frequent houseguest) and figuratively. She made Lisa in particular feel incredibly welcome as a member of the family. Her manner really set something of a tone for the rest of us. It’s probably no accident that in seeing her strong example, so many members of the family entered the teaching profession - where the ability to really listen to what your students are saying is critical in guiding them to success. So much of your mom’s persona will thus live on, not just in you, but in all of those on whose lives she left such a positive mark. Too many to count. Scripture speaks of how God will summon His faithful from the east, west, north and south to sit down in His kingdom. In Aunt Gen’s case, I like to believe those four directions will point her to her favorite game, and that the invitation to sit down will be at the finest bridge table she’s ever seen. With a glass of white zinfandel waiting for her. Lisa and David join me in offering thoughts, prayers, and condolences. We will miss your mom terribly. Sincerely, Steve
