November 24, 2008
TOGETHER AGAIN
It was 5:36 a.m. when I slid from my bed at 3 Trees Ranch, and moved carefully and quietly in the dark toward the kitchen to start the coffee. A brisk and crisp 28 degrees came into focus from my outside thermometer. I walked to the front door of the River House and noticed the frost covering the car hoods in the parking lot, and the steam rising from the Colorado River. Beverly had made fresh peanut butter cookies last night for the Thanksgiving celebration this week and the smell was still in the air.
I had thought about this day for over two weeks since I had made the arrangements at Massey, Bean, Burge Funeral home in Grand Prairie. The arrangements to move Daddy to the Smith Cemetery had been a family discussion for several months since Mom’s passing in March, 2008. While expensive, the family felt that Daddy should be moved to Momee’s side near Oakalla. As it should be, they will be together. I have had the feelings for months that this action was more for the living than for our parents. This was the final symbolic act, to have their lifetime union put back together by placing their bodies side by side for eternity.
With coffee cup filled, I moved to the River House’s new living room couch, positioned perfectly to watch a magnificent sunrise looking down the Colorado toward the big rock. I could hear the morning breaking, the birds, the nature sounds of sunrise. I love the morning. While watching the silhouette of a heron fishing on the rock shoals in the river, my mind turned to Daddy. It was so long ago now; 45 years since Daddy passed away on December 4th, 1963. I remember exactly where I was when David called me that Wednesday evening. I just knew immediately when I heard his voice. I wanted to think about Daddy this morning and remember all that I could. I wanted to just take myself back to my early days while Daddy was with us. The first thought that came to mind is just how often Daddy enters my mind. I think of him a lot actually; just for a second he will be in my thoughts. Maybe while I am shaving, or just the way I sit in a chair the same way he did, Daddy will pop into my memory.
My mind moved to his imposing figure, a big man, round middle, his hearty laugh. Then the fact that he was a southpaw, a lefty. I thought of his delivering our morning breakfast in bed, sliding the plate next to the bed, fried eggs covered with too much paprika, and then the nudge to get moving. He always took Mom her hot tea in bed to start her day. I always felt that Daddy adored Mom. I never actually remember hearing him tell her, but I always knew it. The Momee was the love of Daddy’s life, that was clear.
The fireworks stand on holidays, the Sunday trip to Temple, Texas to secure the Star Telegram for the morning delivery on the weekends. I just knew that I was Daddy’s pet; it seemed to me that he always picked me to make that drive with him to Temple. I would slide next to him and drift away in sleep once the wheels turned. There were memories of a packed sedan or station wagon for a trip to Bartlett on holidays to see grandparents, the Christmas mornings, the singing of the blessing as a family. My mind raced from one thought to another. Daddy’s daily blessing over the meal popped into my head,
“Heavenly Father, Pardon Our Sins, Give Us Thankful Hearts, as we ask this in Christ’s name. …….Amen.”
Oh how I have wished he had been around longer. I have recited so many times to my sons that I only knew my Daddy when I was a child. I missed the opportunity to get to know him after I had become an adult. I have always wanted to have him around to share my adult life…..to talk about a career decision, the current economy, the politics of the day, watch a sporting event……to have him know Beverly and to meet my wonderful sons. I just wanted to have Daddy around to share my life with him, just sit around, the two of us and laugh at a joke, to be best friends. I have often wondered if he would be proud of me. One after another, the thoughts and memories of Daddy and the family came rapid- fire, racing through my mind as the morning sun came up this eventful morning. I sat in silence, a reflective time, just my reverie at work.
I took Beverly her coffee in bed at 7:45 and went to the bathroom to shave, as my cell phone came alive with a startling ring. It was Mary Kuhne, already sitting in her car at the Southland Cemetery in Grand Prairie next to Daddy’s grave. The crew that was to arrive at 8:00 a.m. was running late and the disinterment was not going to be complete until 10:45 a.m. As planned, Mary Kuhne was to witness the project of removing Daddy’s remains and having them put into a concrete vault. The marble head stone would also be carried to the Smith Cemetery near Oakalla.
I was on my way to the Smith Cemetery at 8:00 a.m. to witness the grave diggers work, and to wait for the vault with Daddy’s remains to arrive and be placed next to the Momee. Today, we would complete the circle, the final connecting of the dots….. Momee and Daddy, side by side, next to Momee’s parents in the Smith Family Cemetery. Momee had requested years ago, since she loved the family cemetery, she wanted to be buried there.
I had Beverly take a picture of me, as I headed to the car. As I write this, I am wondering why I felt that was important to do. I never do that. My path to the Smith Cemetery was already in mind, as I had thought about it for several days. Down Highway 190 to FM 581, approaching Lampasas from the west, driving by our old home on Spring Street. I stopped outside the house. I thought of the entire family gathering in Mom’s and Dad’s bed the morning after Kuhne and Rog married, and we literally wept. I was six years old. I cried too, but wondered why. I actually circled the house, went to the back of the house down the alley. As I looked at the back of the house where I grew up, I remembered Ruthe dropping from that back window bedroom onto a car in the driveway below, damaging the roof of the car. Oh my…she was in big trouble. My eyes moved to the big oak tree in our back yard. Then, a flashback, 55 years at age six, and a summer evening came to mind. Aunt Dotty, Sylvester, Mom and Daddy, and Dr. Brooks were there. We were all in the back yard. There was a large rope hanging from the oak tree in our back yard. Daddy announced to the guest to watch me. Then he called for me to climb the rope. I scrambled effortlessly up the rope, one hand over the next to the top, where the rope was connected to the tree, then the slide down must have been 20 feet in the air. The men laughed and applauded me,….Momee, scolded, “Tree, he is going to hurt himself.” It was a happy memory. I remembered Marty telling Ruthe and I the story of the Lion Hunt sitting on the front sidewalk one night, our dog Cindy, and Daddy having me crawl under our house to rescue one of her puppy litters, the owl that Momee found in the bathroom clothes hamper, the cold red concrete living room floor, the sliding front door that never works properly, playing pick up sticks with David and Ruthe, David saving some cherry bombs to set off after Christmas; the memories just kept coming. Running out of the house to wave at Rog and see his jet do a barrel roll, Mom’s custard in huge gallon jars; my mind was rolling from one memory to another.
As I headed toward the Town Square, I stopped by the Standpipe to remember the hours of playing there. Down the hill toward town, I wanted to drive by Matt Smith’s house built in 1902, then past the first apartment Mom and Daddy lived in after they were married, circle the Square, look at the Firestone Store, the Matt Smith Saloon on 3rd Street on the north side of the Square. I drove a couple streets north of the Square, near the old school to see the house where Mary Kuhne and Marty were born. My thoughts turned to Rebecca’s having to miss her senior year at that school, as the family moved to Canadian, Texas. I tried to remember which corner Aunt Beulah house was setting, the house where Daddy met Mom, but could not find it. I thought of John Storms, the black man that worked at the filling station and the maid named Josephine, she was sweet. The funny story of the doctor’s comment to Mom the day that I was born came to mind.
I stopped at the last stop light going out of town, the Hwy 183, Hwy 281, and Hwy 190 intersection, and changed course to ride past the Old Hanna Springs swimming pool, where the family spent most summer days, it seemed to me. I thought of John T. being a lifeguard there, and Mom and Dad playing golf on the course, and square dancing at the pavilion. They loved to dance and did so, often. I remember Carly Tice, the golf professional’s name, for some crazy reason. I just circled through and rolled on east toward Hwy 183, with Sulphur Creek on my left side..
As I headed out of Lampasas, several landmarks sparked other memories and stories as I passed the gate entrance on Hwy 183 to Dotty and Sylvester Lewis’s old home, then the vision of Bachelor’s Peak, ( the rattler story on David’s birthday), past the Campbell Ranch sign (dear old family friends), the dirt road and mail boxes for the turn to Momee Smith’s home, I noticed the stone entrance had been changed, and then the turn on FM 963 at Chapel Hill United Methodist Church, moving east toward the cemetery. The next recognizable turn was at the Blue Hole, where I stopped, took a picture and thought of our cousin Roger Wykes and all the years that he provided the surveillance and patrol to keep the public out of this beautiful and natural swimming-hole. About two miles further down the farm road, I came to the Moten Ranch with the familiar Old Smith Family brand the TO, the O was at the bottom of the T, of course. Again I stopped the car and took a couple of pictures on this bright beautiful morning and watched the Rocky Creek meandering through the original family ranch and home site. The Moten home site is the exact location of the family patriarch, Rocky Jim Smith, the very place where he settled in 1850. I thought of the picture of that house that had burned at that location. The picture is in the Red Dawg Saloon, which shows all the Smith sons standing on the porch. I thought of Lois Moten, one of Momee’s classmates that had passed away just months before Mom. Momee Smith’s house came into mental vision as I remember John T. churning the homemade ice cream on a holiday when the family was at her house. I love the old cattle guard that we had to drive through at the Cox’s house on the way to Momee Smith’s. As I rounded the next curve and came to the gate where the Smith Cemetery sign is, I thought about the fact that this very land, was the place that Momee had inherited years ago; the same property that had eventually been purchased by Sylvester Lewis after the Firestone Store business failed. Momee’s inheritance was lost on a failed business venture. Daddy had been a very successful school teacher and administrator, but a rather lousy businessman. I thought of the years of financial struggle that he must have endured and his deep feelings of failure that resulted from the failed business venture. I thought of the ticket Daddy told me he got one time going through Glen Rose, Texas. The memories were flooding by.
As I pulled up to the gate to the Smith Cemetary, I jotted down on a yellow note pad that I wished one of my brothers and sisters could have come with me today, as it seemed I had replayed in my mind so much of our young lives in Lampasas. Particularly, I thought of David and Ruthe, as we were so close growing up, and it seems to me that we shared all the same memories.
I phoned the current land owner to open the gate, so I could access the cemetery through the property easement. I was told he was a rough, mean- spirited sort, so I disarmed him with my appreciation and gratefulness from my opening comments, as I gave him a warm smile and firm handshake. I learned sometime ago that it is hard to be ugly to someone that is being pleasant and nice to you. I felt like Momee for a second, for I knew his life story before he opened the gate and escorted me through his property. It seemed like everyone would tell Mom their life story. Next, I was rolling up to the Smith Cemetery gate.
I could see in the distance two pickups in the cemetery, and sure enough, it was Hansford Smith and Delbert Perry. These two cousins have spent, literally, 40 years making this family cemetery their life’s work, giving it the attention and respect that it deserved. They wanted to be present to make sure that all went well and see if they could help in any way. Hansford gave me another family tree pamphlet, for the fifteenth time, and told me several more stories of the original Smith sons, eight in all, which had the clear reputation of being “rounder’s”. I always felt that the original eight Smith sons would be fun to be around and would probably make a party even better.
The grave diggers, AKA Strayley’s Backhoe Service, out of Evant, Texas arrived about noon and quickly completed the task of digging the grave next to Momee’s. I made a call to the Vault Delivery Service, knowing that the driver should be very close to Lampasas. Then the disappointment, when I realized the driver was about 10 miles from College Station when I called him. He had taken a wrong turn at Temple, on Hwy 190 and gone southeast. It was a good thing that I had called, or he might have gone all the way to the Coast before checking a map. So, I had a couple of extra hours to float around the Cemetery and ponder, while waiting for Daddy to arrive. No worries, as it gave me more time to think and remember. I enjoyed it, maybe even needed that time.
It occurred to me that many of my older brothers and sisters believe that the stress of Daddy’s final years created a horrible existence for those remaining at home, David, Ruthe, and me. Yes, I do clearly remember some sad and remarkably ugly moments that have marked me, but I really do know that Daddy loved me and I have always considered myself very blessed to have been part of our family. I remember praying that Daddy would not be afflicted with the problems of the bottle, but today believe that I am better, stronger, and smarter for having experienced it.
Only weeks before Daddy died, I was playing in a basketball game, at the Gopher Auditorium and ask him to come. I wanted him to see me play. Daddy asked if I minded if he did not come, “I am just not feeling good, son,” he said. I was high point man that night in our victory, 14 points. I laid down on the love seat in the den to talk on the phone after the game. He came in with a big chocolate milk shake that he had made for me that night. He said, “Son, 14 points is really good, but I have seen you shoot…..you can do better than that.” Daddy did not tell me he loved me often, but he would always do things for me. That was Daddy’s way of expressing his love.
I knew it would come up today, just knew it, expected it would, that one nagging memory that has always clung to me. It has never gone away. It occurred in Daddy’s last year, actually last months. I have always hated myself for that day, for my own self-centeredness, my own lack of sensitivity and understanding as a seventeen year old.
It was the summer before Daddy passed away. He was so ill, a broken man, really, having lost his job and not feeling well. Truthfully, I did not realize, I did not understand that Daddy was terminally ill. Momee never told me in that specific way.
I was being delivered to the Grand Prairie swimming pool by Daddy and another man who was in the car that day. They were running late for an appointment and Daddy dropped me off about three blocks from the swimming pool. He did not want to be late to his appointment. I was so ugly, so mad, so mean, really horrible to Daddy that day. A hot headed seventeen year old with basically zero life- experience was screaming at his sick father because he did not take me all the way to the pool. I have wished a thousand times that I could take back what I said and did that day. Momee pierced my heart two days later when she told me that I had really hurt Daddy’s feelings in front of this stranger, no less. “Paul, what did you do and say to Dad?” Momee asked. I was so ashamed of myself that I could not tell her. Even now I do not want to repeat what I said and did that day. I was a hotheaded jerk, and at that time in my life on that day, I had little respect for Daddy and his problem. To my way of thinking he had everything, and was throwing it away, why he could not whip his problem made him seem weak to me.
I know that we all have done and said things that we regret, but for me, this was my worst ever. Ashamed, is a hideous word, it sticks to you.
After the vault was lowered into his grave, the site cleaned up, and the headstone in place, everyone was gone, I just stood there for several minutes. I told Daddy, for the thousandth time, that I apologize for my bad day some 45 years ago. It sounds strange, I know, standing here 45 years after Daddy has passed away, expressing my regrets for an immature 17 year old’s actions. Even more strange was the fact that my verbalizing it to Daddy today, at this setting, did make me feel better.
I am really glad I took this day to be here and to relive so many memories of my youth and the family. I am so lucky to have had these two parents that love me so much and to have been part of this big family. I would not trade it for anything.
It was dark and nearly 6:00 p.m. when I turned into 3 Trees Ranch off of Hwy 190. It had been twelve hours since I started this day overlooking the Colorado. I was drained, actually.
Momee and Daddy are together again. As it should be.
And I still think that I was Daddy’s pet. I know it was probably because I was the baby. I sure did like that feeling…..pet…..sounds good.
I want to close by telling my brothers and sisters that I love them. I really wish that you could have been with me today. We are so lucky, you know; however, I probably would not have had my private moments with Daddy. I guess the day worked out just fine.
Together Again………………
Number Seven…..The Pet
Paul Rowntree
Friday, December 26, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Leading with compassion
All,
I happened upon a very important blog article today and wanted to share it with the family.
Regardless of your religious inclination, I think the time has come to embrace the notion of "wearing" our compassion in our daily lives and feel Lucile embodied this thinking as well.
Ski
I happened upon a very important blog article today and wanted to share it with the family.
Regardless of your religious inclination, I think the time has come to embrace the notion of "wearing" our compassion in our daily lives and feel Lucile embodied this thinking as well.
Ski
Friday, September 19, 2008
Ike
Wow it's pretty amazing what nature can do. At this time last week I was preparing to "shelter in place" as Ike bore down on Houston. The morning was sunny and beautiful, but as the day progressed the skies darkened and the wind began to pick up. I had gotten all the suggested supplies, batteries, bottled water, canned goods that didn't need to be heated to be eaten, books to read, matches, candles, and so on. As the evening progressed the winds picked up. I chatted online with my friend Charles and we commented on the wind and the reports about the storm surge flooding to our south. At around 12:45 I heard a loud BOOM!!!! A transformer had blown and I was plunged into darkness. I started text messaging Charles to continue our conversation. Suddenly I heard sirens, and not long after found out the historical restaurant Brennan's just 6 blocks away was in flames. It burned to the ground in 20 minutes, a great loss to Houston.
I finally went to sleep around 2am and slept through the worst of the storm. My apartment's walls are incredibly thick so I didn't hear anything. I awoke to a dark day with fits of rain and wind. I peeked outside to see the building was still standing with minimal damage, but a tree was in our parking lot. Luckily no one had cars parked under it.
Saturday night Charles, Nancy, and Rich came over and we pooled our frozen and refrigerated items together for a strange potluck. I grilled chicken and we sat outside on my patio in candlelight. On Sunday, I spent most of the day outside reading. Without power, my apartment is dark even during the day! Sunday night we all gathered at Nancy's she didn't have power but her gas stove and oven was working so we had another hot meal. Monday I got power back! We opened YA briefly and fed hungry kids sandwiches and bottles of water. The power at YA probably won't be back on until late September. We are in a commercial area and no residences are on our grid so we are low on the totem pole for it to be turned on.
I am now on the hunt for internet, I won't have mine restored for a few days at least, a small sports bar, Jakes Philly Steaks has a great connection and no one really knows about it. The owners are really nice and welcoming. I can see myself hanging out here a lot.
I am posting a couple of photos one is of the tree in my parking lot and the other is a shot of one of the buildings downtown that was heavily damaged.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Life's Circles
Recently I experienced the sudden violent loss of a young man who was someone I mentored, counseled, and cared deeply for. Jose Reynaldo Garcia, Rey to his friends, burst into my life nearly 4 years ago when he walked into Youth Advocates for the first time, interested in learning to break dance. Here was this kid, with minimal English who looked so tough and mean, until you looked at his eyes. Rey had an incredible story, at age 12 he had been kicked out of his home in Tegulcigalpa, the capitol of Honduras. He was forced into a violent street gang called 18th Street (it was started on 18th Street in Los Angeles...how it became one of the most violent and fearsome gangs in Honduras and El Salvador, like MS13 is a story for a different time). At age 16 he made the decision to reject this life, and WALKED to the United States. Literally walked. He was detained in Brownsville, but as an unaccompanied minor, he was placed in a residential program run by Catholic Charities. When he went to his hearing, the judge was so moved by his story, something unprecedented happened, instead of being deported, he was granted full political asylum. He became more and more involved with us at YA, and eventually served 2 years in our AmeriCorps program where he impacted the lives of hundreds of kids, including at a camp at Ft. Hood. Nearly a month ago, Rey was leaving a night club and was shot and killed in his car. This impacted our community at YA, he was a part of our family and we had lost him, needlessly. To begin our healing, we had a moving Memorial service at Trinity Church, our second home, and over 170 of his friends gathered to celebrate his life.
Funny how the circle moves on.
This week my dear friend Daniel Sanborn and his wife Sharron welcomed into their lives their daughter Elyse Laura Sanborn. Elyse was born on Monday, June 9.
Friday, May 16, 2008
I got this from Ruth on the 25th of april, I thought I would post it.
Hello Meredith
I got your email address from the blog. I read your comments about Momee this morning and wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your reflections and memory walk. It is true that despite our loss, suddenly we fall right back into our daily routines. Maybe I am not thinking about Mother every minute but it is amazing how often, even in a State she only visited, that a memory of and about her will flash in my mind.
You know Momee came to Hawaii with Bev one year and took lots of pictures. She talked about what she and Bev did here almost every time we came home to TX during the summer. The beautiful beaches, Mahi-Mahi dinners and the "wonderful" way the people danced. Now, when I drive about the island and see the beach and eat Mahi in restaurants, I am reminded of her and the fun she had here.
I bet you do the same thing in TX. See or hear something and think of her. I know I will never look at a blue bonnet and not remember how much she loved these flowers. I remember when Daddy died someone told me that as I long as I remembered Daddy, he lived. I find that is true and will now apply this idea to Mother too.
I hope school is going well. It will not be long till summer. I guess the only way I will ever be free in the summer again it to retire. Having a year round job is not so much fun anymore. Ho-hum.
Uncle Charles comes home tomorrow from El Paso. You know he had to go there because his mother died 3 weeks after his dad. It has been hard month for the family.
I have a crew of 3 men putting together wall units for storage in our condo. I can live in two rooms if I have a place to put some things away. I think this will work. I am trying to create a nest that is/looks roomy when it is really small. Wish me luck!
Take care of you. Love,
Aunt Ruthe
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
A Great Granddaughter's Thought's
A few words,
Bye meredith sullivan friday 4/10/2008
I feel I must make some noise on this blog. Everybody else is, so, why not me.
Shakespeare once said "All the world's a stage. We are all actors." The last couple of weeks since the funeral has felt like a play, especially when we were at the ranch. I feel as though we have just thrust ourselves back into our lives, forgetting about what has happen. We have no time to think about her, becuase we are too busy with different stuff. School, work, family, church, and trying to have a life is difficult. Soon, she is not the center of our thoughts anymore. Every once in a while we come back to her, rembering she is gone and trying to change our minds to something else. It is becuase we do not want to think of one of the saddest times in our lifetime. I have been gulity of this, but also gulity into knowing that I did not have a proper goodbye with her, in my feeling of course.
My mother told us one Sunday morning, two weeks before her death, that we were going to see Momme. She also told us, things looked grim and we should try to say goodbye to her, just in case.
When we got there, Momme was in her kitchen, dressed, and watching tv. But something was different, something was. (One of the help people was there)
She was sitting in a wheelchair, bent over and holding a sippy cup, one Bella might have left. We only stayed 20 minutes or so. I remember the mood was uncomfortable. We talked with her, and we all sat close to her, that way we can hear her when she talked, because her speech was so hard to hear, She probably did not remember an hour later or so that Cam and I were going to get our braces offor that Avery was going to be 14 in a few weeks. Or that he was going to high school come September. She might not even remember that a grandchild and three great-grandkids were there. We were all sad. I think that was we knew we were not going to see her sitting up again. The next time she would be laying down, in final sleep.
For my grandmother and grandfather's anniversy, I was transfering some old videos to DVD. One was her 90th birthday video that was shown at the party. One brief clip showed her around 1990, taking about her husband.
I must confess I can not recall her moving and speaking perfectly like she was in that video. All my memories were of her in the last year, trapped in a frail body are sad.At Hugie's 89th birthday, I saw her and later told Grandma that her body look lifeless. Her eyes had little life. She was just...there. Sitting on the couch in the dining room, just sitting there. I was quite sad that day.
A memory of her before her stroke was her car. A blue car, old but still working car.
I am standing behind my glass front door. My age I can count with my fingers, I am happy. Becuase I know she has come to give us cocoa puffs or cupcakes or something like that. I smile at that memory, becuase it comes from a happy time, when I didn't know what death was or how it looked liked. Before I got so scared that I would have a heart attack, like the one guy in some irish comedy movie my parents forced me to watch when I was ten(it was that or go to bed, nothing else). That was a happy time for me....................
I think I thought the way I would say goodbye was to be by her bedside, kiss her cheek or forehead, say goodbye to her. Or to see her in th coffin, opened, to show she's in a better place. But when we were at the funeral, and we were all touching the coffin, I wanted to hold on, wanting to be near the person who hugged me, let me play with toys, and gave me cupcakes. But I let go, because I was doing all I could to not break down. I left and ran over to Rebe, where I felt most confortable at the time. When I saw people picking up rocks , I picked one up. And almost in a child-like state, I picked another up, and gave it to Chris, who at the time was doing something I had never seen him do before, crying. I wanted to hug him, but I resisted, just stood there, holding my rock while my eyes ran dry, unable to cry, knowing, I had just said "Goodbye" to my Momme, for the last time
If I have bored you, I'm sorry. If you thought this didn't make any sence and I went on too long, forgive me. But if you read this trip down memory lane, thank you.
I thank you for reading this long,
If any relatives want to write me, please email me at
Batcat@tx.rr.com.
thank you
Meredith Sullivan, age 15 1/2.
Bye meredith sullivan friday 4/10/2008
NOTE:forgive me, I am not a good speller.
I feel I must make some noise on this blog. Everybody else is, so, why not me.
Shakespeare once said "All the world's a stage. We are all actors." The last couple of weeks since the funeral has felt like a play, especially when we were at the ranch. I feel as though we have just thrust ourselves back into our lives, forgetting about what has happen. We have no time to think about her, becuase we are too busy with different stuff. School, work, family, church, and trying to have a life is difficult. Soon, she is not the center of our thoughts anymore. Every once in a while we come back to her, rembering she is gone and trying to change our minds to something else. It is becuase we do not want to think of one of the saddest times in our lifetime. I have been gulity of this, but also gulity into knowing that I did not have a proper goodbye with her, in my feeling of course.
My mother told us one Sunday morning, two weeks before her death, that we were going to see Momme. She also told us, things looked grim and we should try to say goodbye to her, just in case.
When we got there, Momme was in her kitchen, dressed, and watching tv. But something was different, something was. (One of the help people was there)
She was sitting in a wheelchair, bent over and holding a sippy cup, one Bella might have left. We only stayed 20 minutes or so. I remember the mood was uncomfortable. We talked with her, and we all sat close to her, that way we can hear her when she talked, because her speech was so hard to hear, She probably did not remember an hour later or so that Cam and I were going to get our braces offor that Avery was going to be 14 in a few weeks. Or that he was going to high school come September. She might not even remember that a grandchild and three great-grandkids were there. We were all sad. I think that was we knew we were not going to see her sitting up again. The next time she would be laying down, in final sleep.
For my grandmother and grandfather's anniversy, I was transfering some old videos to DVD. One was her 90th birthday video that was shown at the party. One brief clip showed her around 1990, taking about her husband.
I must confess I can not recall her moving and speaking perfectly like she was in that video. All my memories were of her in the last year, trapped in a frail body are sad.At Hugie's 89th birthday, I saw her and later told Grandma that her body look lifeless. Her eyes had little life. She was just...there. Sitting on the couch in the dining room, just sitting there. I was quite sad that day.
A memory of her before her stroke was her car. A blue car, old but still working car.
I am standing behind my glass front door. My age I can count with my fingers, I am happy. Becuase I know she has come to give us cocoa puffs or cupcakes or something like that. I smile at that memory, becuase it comes from a happy time, when I didn't know what death was or how it looked liked. Before I got so scared that I would have a heart attack, like the one guy in some irish comedy movie my parents forced me to watch when I was ten(it was that or go to bed, nothing else). That was a happy time for me....................
I think I thought the way I would say goodbye was to be by her bedside, kiss her cheek or forehead, say goodbye to her. Or to see her in th coffin, opened, to show she's in a better place. But when we were at the funeral, and we were all touching the coffin, I wanted to hold on, wanting to be near the person who hugged me, let me play with toys, and gave me cupcakes. But I let go, because I was doing all I could to not break down. I left and ran over to Rebe, where I felt most confortable at the time. When I saw people picking up rocks , I picked one up. And almost in a child-like state, I picked another up, and gave it to Chris, who at the time was doing something I had never seen him do before, crying. I wanted to hug him, but I resisted, just stood there, holding my rock while my eyes ran dry, unable to cry, knowing, I had just said "Goodbye" to my Momme, for the last time
If I have bored you, I'm sorry. If you thought this didn't make any sence and I went on too long, forgive me. But if you read this trip down memory lane, thank you.
I thank you for reading this long,
If any relatives want to write me, please email me at
Batcat@tx.rr.com.
thank you
Meredith Sullivan, age 15 1/2.
Momme's Cocoa Puffs
About a few years ago, we asked mamee for this recipe. Now I'm sure all of you will want this recipe, because you have a special memory involing this. I had orginally written this for Buc and Janet when they first became engaged, for them to make it one day. After the passing of our great matriarch, my grandmother and I realized we did not want this great recipe to be forgotten and lost to time. So here it is.
Meredith, from Mary Kuhn's house.
From the kitchen of Annie Lucile "Momee" Smith Rowntree:
Cocoa Puffs.
You will need:
· 1 Cup of Sugar
2 oz. of Honey
2 oz. of Karo Syrup + 1 T
Melt until
Bubbles all
around, barely rising.
__________________________
Move off the heat and fold in
1 and a half cups of Creamy Peanut Butter
4 cups of Cocoa Puffs
_____________________________
· Put the Peanut Butter in one bowl, the 4 cups of Cocoa Puffs into another bowl.
· Then, quickly put the P.B into the Pan, stir, then quickly put the Cocoa Puffs.
· After Stirring, begin putting Cocoa Puffs onto Wax Paper.
· Remember: Always Keep Stirring, Until you start putting the Cocoa Puffs on Wax Paper.
This is for keeping a happy family. And yes, you can use it for the holidays.
Love,
Mary Kuhn Rowntree Rogers
Meredith Leigh Rogers Sullivan
Meredith, from Mary Kuhn's house.
From the kitchen of Annie Lucile "Momee" Smith Rowntree:
Cocoa Puffs.
You will need:
· 1 Cup of Sugar
2 oz. of Honey
2 oz. of Karo Syrup + 1 T
Melt until
Bubbles all
around, barely rising.
__________________________
Move off the heat and fold in
1 and a half cups of Creamy Peanut Butter
4 cups of Cocoa Puffs
_____________________________
· Put the Peanut Butter in one bowl, the 4 cups of Cocoa Puffs into another bowl.
· Then, quickly put the P.B into the Pan, stir, then quickly put the Cocoa Puffs.
· After Stirring, begin putting Cocoa Puffs onto Wax Paper.
· Remember: Always Keep Stirring, Until you start putting the Cocoa Puffs on Wax Paper.
This is for keeping a happy family. And yes, you can use it for the holidays.
Love,
Mary Kuhn Rowntree Rogers
Meredith Leigh Rogers Sullivan
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Three Pic's of Momee Easter 2007 at 3 Trees Ranch
I wanted to share with everyone these photo's that Matt Rowntree sent me from the 2007 Easter at 3 Trees Ranch
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Double Dip Day
One of the best memories of childhood that I share with my brother and sister is the magical sentence: "It's a double dip day!" Whenever Momee would visit us in Indiana, we would make at least one trek to Lloyd's Ice Cream for a cone. We were always in suspense...will it be? will it be? will it be a....double dip day?!
Selections of flavors was always a long, thought provoking endeavor, and it always seemed we could narrow our choices down to just 2. Momee and Mom would smile mysteriously, savoring the suspense. At the last moment, when we couldn't stand it anymore, the verdict would be given, and more often than not...it was a double dip day!
Double Dip Day has now become a phrase we use to indicate it was an extra special, happy day or experience.
May we all have plenty of "double dip days" to come!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Lucile Smith Rowntree Brief Biography and Obituary
Lucile Smith Rowntree
1912-2008
Annie Lucile Smith was born on a ranch on Rocky Creek near Oakalla in
She was the daughter of Edgar “E.Babe” Smith and Leila Mae Wykes. Lucile was one of three children. She had an older brother, E. Babe, Jr. and a younger sister, Dorothy Virginia Lewis. Lucile read before she was five so her parents allowed her to start school early. She rode to school with her brother, behind him on his horse.
The Smith family lived at the ranch until their house burned in 1918. They, then, moved to Lampasas, and Lucile attended school there, graduating from
None the less, after her graduation, Lucile left Lampasas to attend
In the next fifteen years, Lucile and John had seven children, Mary Kuhn, Martha Lucile, Rebecca Alice, John Thomas, Jr., David Terry, Ruth, and Paul Anthony. The family lived in
In addition to raising her children and supporting her husband in his career as a teacher, principal, and assistant superintendent, Lucile finished her college degree at West Texas State College in 1957. She then began her twenty years as a language-arts teacher at
Lucile was a life-long member of the
Lucile was preceded in death by her husband John.
Lucile was always available to her own large family, treating all as if each were the most loved.
She is survived by her children and their spouses: Mary Kuhn and husband Robert Rogers, Martha and husband David Brownlie, Rebecca Moore, Grand Prairie, TX, Ruth Hatcher and husband Charles Hendryx, Honolulu, Hawaii, John T. Rowntree and wife Mary Schleppegrell, Dexter, Michigan, David Rowntree and wife Sheila, Concord, California, Paul Rowntree and wife Beverly , Colleyville, TX.
All of Lucile’s family, her seven children, sixteen grandchildren, and nineteen great grandchildren, as well as the mates of the grandchildren and other relatives and friends, celebrate the life of love and service that she led.
In lieu of flowers, please send memorial contributions to the Methodist Children’s Home at
The family deeply appreciates the kind and able assistance of Care Mountain Caregivers, Jennifer, Melaine, Tonja, Lorena, and Claudia and Rick Putchio and the wise counsel of Dr. Chuck Dell, all of whom enabled them to keep Lucile in her own home during her declining years.
A memorial service will be held at
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Lucile S.Rowntree Eulogy
Eulogy for Annie Lucile Rowntree
Born: January 12th, 1912
Died: March 9th, 2008
Services at First United Methodist Church Grand Prairie, Texas
The Baker Chapel
By: Paul A. Rowntree, Lucky Number Seven
“THE PICTURE”
“A Memory That Can Not Be Taken Away Because of this day.”
Good afternoon, my name is Paul Rowntree, Lucky Number Seven. I have always said that I’m lucky; I have always been lucky, true statement. Today, I want to alter that statement and say what I have always known. I am very blessed to have been born into the wonderful family.
For those in this room that have lived awhile, and have experienced this day, you understand. This day, a day in your life when you lose someone that is so dear and special to you. That day in your life when you lose someone that loved you, nurtured, and counseled you. That day in your life when you lose someone that you identify, they have influenced what you are and what you have become as a human being. That day in your life that you lose someone that has sacrificed for you and you know it. That day in your life that you lose someone that has said a prayer for you along your path. That day, that day in your life that you lose a parent, it penetrates the heart and sole. We are grateful to have a friend with us today.
This day for me has brought about a rush of memories, a flood of memories, hundreds of them, memories of Mother coming at me rapid fire. I want to make the distinction that they are my memories. I say that because I know my brothers and sisters, the grands and the greats, all have their own memories of Momee. That’s what we called her, our Momee, the Momee. I decided to share a couple of my memories with you today, as I think these memories will tell you what our mother meant to us and clearly reflect on who she was as a person. I ask that you look through these memories to the picture that resonates about our Mother. The picture of a strong, intelligent, independent woman/mother, a person of character, and values. Look for the picture that details what she meant to the family, and what she did for this family. Please hear the picture of my mother through my memories.
One of my earliest memories of Mom was as a 6 year old boy, a first grader. The family lived in Lampasas, Texas, central Texas. The family was home that evening and I was curled up in Mother’s lap. I had a permanent reservation for that lap, you see, I was the baby. I had looked up at Mom and said, “Mom, Mom, did you know that next week is open house at my school.” I remember, she smiled and said, “Sweetie, I knew that. I am planning on going to your open house, and I just can’t wait to meet your teacher.” I learned later she had known my teacher for years. I said, “Mom, would you wear your red dress? You know, it’s that red dress that you look so beautiful in. It’s the one you wear to church sometimes.” I remember that she squeezed me tight and leaned down and gave me a kiss; just a peck on the cheek. As she raised up, another peck on the forehead, and as she held me to her, she whispered in my ear. “Sweetie, how’d you know I was planning on wearing that red dress?”
I say to you all, it is a slice of time. As for me, it is the most special moment, the most special memory, a memory of a baby boy that simply adored his beautiful, beautiful mother. It is a memory that can not be taken away because of this day.
How about a memory of high school days? Everyone remembers something about high school days. You remember 16, 17 years old, that time in your life when your confidence exceeds your capacities, you just don’t know it. Well, when I was living here in Grand Prairie on North West 9th Street, I was sixteen, seventeen years old, and I would leave the house. I was leaving the house to go on a date, to be with a friend, just leaving the house. There was Mom! She would stop me at the front door, every time it seemed. I would turn around at the front door, and there she was. She was approaching me, she was addressing me, she was walking up to me, she was standing in front of me. There she was, short in stature. She would stop me for just a second, it did not take but a second. She would do and she would say the same thing every time; it did not vary, not a word. She would put her hands on my face, on my cheeks and she would look me square in the eyes, flash that precious smile, and then she would announce, “Son, you know son, Rowntree boys…. Rowntree boys are gentlemen.” I remember wanting to say,” Mom, I’m sixteen years old, I don’t want to be a gentleman”, but I would not say it to her, not to Mom, not a chance. It is just a sweet memory about a mother that expected good things from her children, a memory that cannot be taken away because of this day. You see the picture?
When I remember Mother, I think of how much fun she was, how funny she was, she just had a way about her. I remember that she made it clear to you when you reached adulthood, she made it clear, it is your deal. Mom put it to me like this. “Son I don’t have any interest in getting into your business, and I am not going to be trying to run your affairs. I can assure you that I will not be giving you advice at every turn, but I want you to always remember, Son, the Methodist Church has always served me well in my life, been there for me. I won’t be getting into your business, won’t be trying to run your affairs and won’t be giving you a lot of advice, but I believe that hot tea in the morning just might extend your life. Son, I won’t be getting into your business, won’t be trying to run your affairs and certainly won’t be offering a lot of advice, but I have learned that the smartest people,” she started laughing, “the smartest people”, she laughed harder, “the smartest people embrace the values of the democratic party” and then she just died laughing. It is just a sweet memory of a mother that had a way about her. The truth is other than those three things, it is your deal, you figure it out, it is time for you to fly. That’s the way she ran it, that is the way she did it. This is a memory that can not be taken away because of this day.
When I remember Mom, I think of the fact that she extended herself to them; more than that, she embraced them, more than that, she loved them. She loved them. The spouses, the spouses of her seven children, she loved them. They knew it, they felt it, they sensed it, and they loved her back. When I think of the Momee I remember how much the Momee loved my Beverly,…. like she was her own. And I know just how much my Beverly loved the Momee. I ask each of you. How lucky am I? A sweet memory that can not be taken away because of this day. You see the picture.
Mother was aware that time was growing short. Recently, maybe two years ago now, Mother and I were in her home, just the two of us. She said to me, “Son, I don’t have many contemporaries left, but if I have a few friends that want to come to my service, I want you to promise me now, that you want keep them too long. I remember that she sighed deeply that day, a long exhale, she shook her head in front of me and said, “I have had a long time to think about this one, Son, and I can’t think of another person that has lived a more charmed, a more blessed life than I have, …not one. And then as if to comfort me, she reached out and patted me on the arm, and said, “ After all son, do you know anyone else that is approaching 95 years old and living in their own home, sitting here talking to their baby of seven? Oh no,Son, you hear me now, when my day comes, I want no long faces, I just want you to get together. I want you to hold each other, I want you to love each other, and I want you to have a party. Son, your mother has lived one wonderful, wonderful, wonderful life.” Ladies and gentlemen, we intend to honor that request today.
Before I leave this podium today, I want to describe my mother to you. This is my description of her, my terms, my words, my phrases, my nouns, my adjectives, my description. I say that because I have not shared this with my brothers and sisters, but I know that they will agree with this description of our Momee.
Lucile Rowntree, in her heart, was one of the most loving, most caring, most sensitive people. She was so, so, gentle, so incredibly sweet, a compassionate soul, always. When you would see my mother, it made no difference when, always on her tongue, she wanted to talk about someone, it was always someone, someone, someone, someone else. It was always about someone else for her, someone in this community, someone else that was down, someone else that was troubled, someone else that was sick, someone else hurting, someone else ill, someone else that just needed a friend, that day. But it was always someone else for her. I tell you true, when I say the word self-centered simply did not apply to her. An incredible quality for sure.
Lucile Rowntree was so smart, so intelligent, unbelievably well read. She could talk to you about anything, anything. You pick the subject. My bet is that she knew a good bit about it. I always said she was just tuned in. She was, indeed, tuned in.
Lucile Rowntree was depression raised, that is the Great Depression raised. She was clearly tuned in politically. She was a life long, flag waving, back-slapping, parade leading, Yellow Dog Democrat. In her heart, in her soul, down to her toes, in her bones, she was clear and definitive about what government should be for the people. That sweet gentle natured sole, oh my, I have seen her become Clarence Darrell a few times. She was just too cool, too fun, she just had a way about her.
Lucile Rowntree loved a hat. She looked precious in a hat. Hot tea in the morning, every morning, cold Dr. Pepper on a hot summer day, regular, green cake, and M&M’s. I should have bought stock in M&M’s,
Lucile Rowntree was our family leader. Proud she was, proud of her roots. If she was here, she would say, ranching roots. Mother was born in Central Texas, north of Austin, Burnet County. Mother was born on the banks of the Rocky, ole Rocky she would call out, a beautiful rock bottom creek meandering through central Texas. Spectacular. Mother was born on the banks of the Rocky Creek. Just down the road is a one horse town called Oakalla, Texas. Do not blink, you will miss Oakalla, Texas. Our favorite nick name for Momee was Oakalle Lu, Oakalle Lucile. She would beam every time, as it would take her back, back to her roots, back to Rocky.
When I think of Mom, I remember the underpinning of love that she had for her siblings. Oh, my! Her big brother, just 5 years older, E. Babe Smith, Edgar Babe Smith, that would be Uncle Buddy to us. Mom always said,” Son ,your Uncle Buddy loved me so much, he took me everywhere with him, he took such care of me when I was young.” It was a life time of devotion and love for a big brother, as it should be.
I will suggest that the best friend of her life was her baby sister, just two years younger than Mom. Dorothy Smith, Dorothy Smith Lewis, Dottie Lewis, that would be Aunt Dottie to us. Mom and Aunt Dottie got such joy from being together. It was a lifetime of loving one another, of supporting one another, of dreaming, of praying, of hoping, of working , of living. It was just a loving family. Impressive.
If I had only four words to describe my mother, just four words to sum up a soul, four words that would encase what she was about at a core level, and if I could open up my Mothers heart and look inside, I believe that deep down in the lining and the fabric of her heart would be stitched these four words……SHE LOVED A CHILD. My mom’s life was about a child, always a child, any child, anywhere, anytime, any child, not just my children and not just the children of this family. My mother’s heart would shutter at the site of a child not loved, not tended, not cared for. Oh how many times have I heard her say? “Son, let’s talk here. What about the children, Son? Just what about the children?” I have always known that this family was the beneficiary of this priority in her life, and grateful for it.
And finally, my father, my daddy, John Thomas Rowntree married Annie Lucile Smith in October of 1930. Thirty-three Years of marriage and seven children, Dad left this world in his late 50’s, I was in high school. Mom had been widowed for forty-four years. He has been gone so long. Dad was a school teacher. I don’t think my father ever drew a breath as an adult that he did not shoulder the pressure, the strain, the stress of trying to make a living for this large family. While he has been gone a lifetime, I have never forgotten the way my father referred to my mother, his wife, his bride, the love of his life, the mother of his children. He did it the same every time when he would say, “Lucile Rowntree, she is my Grand Lady.” I hear that word and I think of her every time, you see, .she was. That she was.
I want to close today with one final memory that I believe completes the picture, the picture of the importance of our mother in our life. The setting occurred about ten or twelve years ago. Mom was suffering osteoporosis and back pain. My sister, Mary Kuhn and I delivered Mom to an orthopedic specialist to get her some relief, some help. My sister, Mary Kuhn went with Mom to the examination room. I stayed in the waiting room. The waiting room of a doctor’s office, you have been there. My eyes found the eyes of the people waiting for service and attention. You know the window. That is when I saw it, that is when I spotted it. Just to the left of the window in that room, there was a sign, a big sign, a huge sign, triple spaced, bold fonted. The sign had a title. I read it carefully, and slowly. It stuck for me. The title read, “Three Things That Will Insure Success and Happiness In Your Life”.
I remember it read, “Marry the Right Spouse”, I remember it said, “Work, Work at Something Worthy Of Your Time and Talent.” Ladies and gentlemen, I do not recount and recall this story, because of those two things, not at all. The reason that I tell this memory today, was that third thing, that third thing written on that wall that day. That third thing that set me back in my chair and brought tears to my face. That third thing that was reported to insure success and happiness in your life, read, “Don’t Ever Do Anything That Would Not Make Your Mother Proud.” I don’t mind saying that I sat there that day, a grown man, with tears rolling down my face. You see, I don’t know how many times, I have no way of knowing how many times, my precious mother looked me square and said to me, “Son, you just make me proud of you. Son, you just make me proud of you.” I have spent a my life trying to live up to that call. That always had value for me. It is crazy that at my age I would say that I still work at it today.
Ladies and Gentlemen, don’t you see, my family sitting here, we have been stamped, stamped, stamped by the Momee. She would look us square and say, “Sweetie, you just make me proud of you, make me proud of you.”
HERE’S TO YOU MOMEE, HERE’S TO YOU. FOR WHAT YOU MEANT TO US AND FOR WHAT YOU DID FOR US.
Let Us Pray:
Heavenly Father, we bow before you today, struggling for just the right words that express just how special our Mother was in our life.
We give you thanks today, as we have a thousand times for the life of our Mother, for her commitment to this family, we give thank you for her toughness, her strength, her perseverance, we thank you for her love, her care, her council, today we give thanks for her sacrifice for us, for all the prayers you have heard in our behalf. Today we just thank you for all of it, all of it.
Secondly, we want to give you a special thanks for her longevity, for her long life. She has been in our life so long, through the majority of her own children’s lives. She has been here to share laugh, to share love, to share the grands, and the greats, the successes of a family. And when things do not go right and wagon’s get circled, she was always so strong,
It is on this day, God, that we give her to you, for your care and comfort. For this family, one and all, we will testify, we know her value, for to us dear God, our Mother, Lucile Rowntree, she has been our Angel, our Angel on this earth.
It is in your name, Lord, and the name of the Christ that we offer this prayer for our Momee.
Amen
Born: January 12th, 1912
Died: March 9th, 2008
Services at First United Methodist Church Grand Prairie, Texas
The Baker Chapel
By: Paul A. Rowntree, Lucky Number Seven
“THE PICTURE”
“A Memory That Can Not Be Taken Away Because of this day.”
Good afternoon, my name is Paul Rowntree, Lucky Number Seven. I have always said that I’m lucky; I have always been lucky, true statement. Today, I want to alter that statement and say what I have always known. I am very blessed to have been born into the wonderful family.
For those in this room that have lived awhile, and have experienced this day, you understand. This day, a day in your life when you lose someone that is so dear and special to you. That day in your life when you lose someone that loved you, nurtured, and counseled you. That day in your life when you lose someone that you identify, they have influenced what you are and what you have become as a human being. That day in your life that you lose someone that has sacrificed for you and you know it. That day in your life that you lose someone that has said a prayer for you along your path. That day, that day in your life that you lose a parent, it penetrates the heart and sole. We are grateful to have a friend with us today.
This day for me has brought about a rush of memories, a flood of memories, hundreds of them, memories of Mother coming at me rapid fire. I want to make the distinction that they are my memories. I say that because I know my brothers and sisters, the grands and the greats, all have their own memories of Momee. That’s what we called her, our Momee, the Momee. I decided to share a couple of my memories with you today, as I think these memories will tell you what our mother meant to us and clearly reflect on who she was as a person. I ask that you look through these memories to the picture that resonates about our Mother. The picture of a strong, intelligent, independent woman/mother, a person of character, and values. Look for the picture that details what she meant to the family, and what she did for this family. Please hear the picture of my mother through my memories.
One of my earliest memories of Mom was as a 6 year old boy, a first grader. The family lived in Lampasas, Texas, central Texas. The family was home that evening and I was curled up in Mother’s lap. I had a permanent reservation for that lap, you see, I was the baby. I had looked up at Mom and said, “Mom, Mom, did you know that next week is open house at my school.” I remember, she smiled and said, “Sweetie, I knew that. I am planning on going to your open house, and I just can’t wait to meet your teacher.” I learned later she had known my teacher for years. I said, “Mom, would you wear your red dress? You know, it’s that red dress that you look so beautiful in. It’s the one you wear to church sometimes.” I remember that she squeezed me tight and leaned down and gave me a kiss; just a peck on the cheek. As she raised up, another peck on the forehead, and as she held me to her, she whispered in my ear. “Sweetie, how’d you know I was planning on wearing that red dress?”
I say to you all, it is a slice of time. As for me, it is the most special moment, the most special memory, a memory of a baby boy that simply adored his beautiful, beautiful mother. It is a memory that can not be taken away because of this day.
How about a memory of high school days? Everyone remembers something about high school days. You remember 16, 17 years old, that time in your life when your confidence exceeds your capacities, you just don’t know it. Well, when I was living here in Grand Prairie on North West 9th Street, I was sixteen, seventeen years old, and I would leave the house. I was leaving the house to go on a date, to be with a friend, just leaving the house. There was Mom! She would stop me at the front door, every time it seemed. I would turn around at the front door, and there she was. She was approaching me, she was addressing me, she was walking up to me, she was standing in front of me. There she was, short in stature. She would stop me for just a second, it did not take but a second. She would do and she would say the same thing every time; it did not vary, not a word. She would put her hands on my face, on my cheeks and she would look me square in the eyes, flash that precious smile, and then she would announce, “Son, you know son, Rowntree boys…. Rowntree boys are gentlemen.” I remember wanting to say,” Mom, I’m sixteen years old, I don’t want to be a gentleman”, but I would not say it to her, not to Mom, not a chance. It is just a sweet memory about a mother that expected good things from her children, a memory that cannot be taken away because of this day. You see the picture?
When I remember Mother, I think of how much fun she was, how funny she was, she just had a way about her. I remember that she made it clear to you when you reached adulthood, she made it clear, it is your deal. Mom put it to me like this. “Son I don’t have any interest in getting into your business, and I am not going to be trying to run your affairs. I can assure you that I will not be giving you advice at every turn, but I want you to always remember, Son, the Methodist Church has always served me well in my life, been there for me. I won’t be getting into your business, won’t be trying to run your affairs and won’t be giving you a lot of advice, but I believe that hot tea in the morning just might extend your life. Son, I won’t be getting into your business, won’t be trying to run your affairs and certainly won’t be offering a lot of advice, but I have learned that the smartest people,” she started laughing, “the smartest people”, she laughed harder, “the smartest people embrace the values of the democratic party” and then she just died laughing. It is just a sweet memory of a mother that had a way about her. The truth is other than those three things, it is your deal, you figure it out, it is time for you to fly. That’s the way she ran it, that is the way she did it. This is a memory that can not be taken away because of this day.
When I remember Mom, I think of the fact that she extended herself to them; more than that, she embraced them, more than that, she loved them. She loved them. The spouses, the spouses of her seven children, she loved them. They knew it, they felt it, they sensed it, and they loved her back. When I think of the Momee I remember how much the Momee loved my Beverly,…. like she was her own. And I know just how much my Beverly loved the Momee. I ask each of you. How lucky am I? A sweet memory that can not be taken away because of this day. You see the picture.
Mother was aware that time was growing short. Recently, maybe two years ago now, Mother and I were in her home, just the two of us. She said to me, “Son, I don’t have many contemporaries left, but if I have a few friends that want to come to my service, I want you to promise me now, that you want keep them too long. I remember that she sighed deeply that day, a long exhale, she shook her head in front of me and said, “I have had a long time to think about this one, Son, and I can’t think of another person that has lived a more charmed, a more blessed life than I have, …not one. And then as if to comfort me, she reached out and patted me on the arm, and said, “ After all son, do you know anyone else that is approaching 95 years old and living in their own home, sitting here talking to their baby of seven? Oh no,Son, you hear me now, when my day comes, I want no long faces, I just want you to get together. I want you to hold each other, I want you to love each other, and I want you to have a party. Son, your mother has lived one wonderful, wonderful, wonderful life.” Ladies and gentlemen, we intend to honor that request today.
Before I leave this podium today, I want to describe my mother to you. This is my description of her, my terms, my words, my phrases, my nouns, my adjectives, my description. I say that because I have not shared this with my brothers and sisters, but I know that they will agree with this description of our Momee.
Lucile Rowntree, in her heart, was one of the most loving, most caring, most sensitive people. She was so, so, gentle, so incredibly sweet, a compassionate soul, always. When you would see my mother, it made no difference when, always on her tongue, she wanted to talk about someone, it was always someone, someone, someone, someone else. It was always about someone else for her, someone in this community, someone else that was down, someone else that was troubled, someone else that was sick, someone else hurting, someone else ill, someone else that just needed a friend, that day. But it was always someone else for her. I tell you true, when I say the word self-centered simply did not apply to her. An incredible quality for sure.
Lucile Rowntree was so smart, so intelligent, unbelievably well read. She could talk to you about anything, anything. You pick the subject. My bet is that she knew a good bit about it. I always said she was just tuned in. She was, indeed, tuned in.
Lucile Rowntree was depression raised, that is the Great Depression raised. She was clearly tuned in politically. She was a life long, flag waving, back-slapping, parade leading, Yellow Dog Democrat. In her heart, in her soul, down to her toes, in her bones, she was clear and definitive about what government should be for the people. That sweet gentle natured sole, oh my, I have seen her become Clarence Darrell a few times. She was just too cool, too fun, she just had a way about her.
Lucile Rowntree loved a hat. She looked precious in a hat. Hot tea in the morning, every morning, cold Dr. Pepper on a hot summer day, regular, green cake, and M&M’s. I should have bought stock in M&M’s,
Lucile Rowntree was our family leader. Proud she was, proud of her roots. If she was here, she would say, ranching roots. Mother was born in Central Texas, north of Austin, Burnet County. Mother was born on the banks of the Rocky, ole Rocky she would call out, a beautiful rock bottom creek meandering through central Texas. Spectacular. Mother was born on the banks of the Rocky Creek. Just down the road is a one horse town called Oakalla, Texas. Do not blink, you will miss Oakalla, Texas. Our favorite nick name for Momee was Oakalle Lu, Oakalle Lucile. She would beam every time, as it would take her back, back to her roots, back to Rocky.
When I think of Mom, I remember the underpinning of love that she had for her siblings. Oh, my! Her big brother, just 5 years older, E. Babe Smith, Edgar Babe Smith, that would be Uncle Buddy to us. Mom always said,” Son ,your Uncle Buddy loved me so much, he took me everywhere with him, he took such care of me when I was young.” It was a life time of devotion and love for a big brother, as it should be.
I will suggest that the best friend of her life was her baby sister, just two years younger than Mom. Dorothy Smith, Dorothy Smith Lewis, Dottie Lewis, that would be Aunt Dottie to us. Mom and Aunt Dottie got such joy from being together. It was a lifetime of loving one another, of supporting one another, of dreaming, of praying, of hoping, of working , of living. It was just a loving family. Impressive.
If I had only four words to describe my mother, just four words to sum up a soul, four words that would encase what she was about at a core level, and if I could open up my Mothers heart and look inside, I believe that deep down in the lining and the fabric of her heart would be stitched these four words……SHE LOVED A CHILD. My mom’s life was about a child, always a child, any child, anywhere, anytime, any child, not just my children and not just the children of this family. My mother’s heart would shutter at the site of a child not loved, not tended, not cared for. Oh how many times have I heard her say? “Son, let’s talk here. What about the children, Son? Just what about the children?” I have always known that this family was the beneficiary of this priority in her life, and grateful for it.
And finally, my father, my daddy, John Thomas Rowntree married Annie Lucile Smith in October of 1930. Thirty-three Years of marriage and seven children, Dad left this world in his late 50’s, I was in high school. Mom had been widowed for forty-four years. He has been gone so long. Dad was a school teacher. I don’t think my father ever drew a breath as an adult that he did not shoulder the pressure, the strain, the stress of trying to make a living for this large family. While he has been gone a lifetime, I have never forgotten the way my father referred to my mother, his wife, his bride, the love of his life, the mother of his children. He did it the same every time when he would say, “Lucile Rowntree, she is my Grand Lady.” I hear that word and I think of her every time, you see, .she was. That she was.
I want to close today with one final memory that I believe completes the picture, the picture of the importance of our mother in our life. The setting occurred about ten or twelve years ago. Mom was suffering osteoporosis and back pain. My sister, Mary Kuhn and I delivered Mom to an orthopedic specialist to get her some relief, some help. My sister, Mary Kuhn went with Mom to the examination room. I stayed in the waiting room. The waiting room of a doctor’s office, you have been there. My eyes found the eyes of the people waiting for service and attention. You know the window. That is when I saw it, that is when I spotted it. Just to the left of the window in that room, there was a sign, a big sign, a huge sign, triple spaced, bold fonted. The sign had a title. I read it carefully, and slowly. It stuck for me. The title read, “Three Things That Will Insure Success and Happiness In Your Life”.
I remember it read, “Marry the Right Spouse”, I remember it said, “Work, Work at Something Worthy Of Your Time and Talent.” Ladies and gentlemen, I do not recount and recall this story, because of those two things, not at all. The reason that I tell this memory today, was that third thing, that third thing written on that wall that day. That third thing that set me back in my chair and brought tears to my face. That third thing that was reported to insure success and happiness in your life, read, “Don’t Ever Do Anything That Would Not Make Your Mother Proud.” I don’t mind saying that I sat there that day, a grown man, with tears rolling down my face. You see, I don’t know how many times, I have no way of knowing how many times, my precious mother looked me square and said to me, “Son, you just make me proud of you. Son, you just make me proud of you.” I have spent a my life trying to live up to that call. That always had value for me. It is crazy that at my age I would say that I still work at it today.
Ladies and Gentlemen, don’t you see, my family sitting here, we have been stamped, stamped, stamped by the Momee. She would look us square and say, “Sweetie, you just make me proud of you, make me proud of you.”
HERE’S TO YOU MOMEE, HERE’S TO YOU. FOR WHAT YOU MEANT TO US AND FOR WHAT YOU DID FOR US.
Let Us Pray:
Heavenly Father, we bow before you today, struggling for just the right words that express just how special our Mother was in our life.
We give you thanks today, as we have a thousand times for the life of our Mother, for her commitment to this family, we give thank you for her toughness, her strength, her perseverance, we thank you for her love, her care, her council, today we give thanks for her sacrifice for us, for all the prayers you have heard in our behalf. Today we just thank you for all of it, all of it.
Secondly, we want to give you a special thanks for her longevity, for her long life. She has been in our life so long, through the majority of her own children’s lives. She has been here to share laugh, to share love, to share the grands, and the greats, the successes of a family. And when things do not go right and wagon’s get circled, she was always so strong,
It is on this day, God, that we give her to you, for your care and comfort. For this family, one and all, we will testify, we know her value, for to us dear God, our Mother, Lucile Rowntree, she has been our Angel, our Angel on this earth.
It is in your name, Lord, and the name of the Christ that we offer this prayer for our Momee.
Amen
Friday, March 28, 2008
Easter at 3 Trees
It was definitely tough not having the matriarch of the last 40+ years of the Rowntree family at 3 Trees Ranch for Easter, but here are some of the pics from the weekend. The weather was perfect, and she was surely missed. I sincerely hope that this blog is a catalyst to maintain the traditions of our family in Momee's absence!!!
http://picasaweb.google.com/mattrowntree
*you'll probably need your google login to access these pics, but they are worth it.
Matt
http://picasaweb.google.com/mattrowntree
*you'll probably need your google login to access these pics, but they are worth it.
Matt
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
From Stella Mae - Lucile Rowntree's First Cousin
Thank you so much for including me in the Rowntree Family Contact Info.
My computer skills are so minimal that I can barely send and receive e-mail, but it is good to see the whole family listing by families, and to get a sense of where each one at this date. (I know how fleeting such locations can be.)
Lucile was the grown-up cousin who had my life-long admiration, so I was glad I could be with her family at her memorial service. Stella Mae Scharf
My computer skills are so minimal that I can barely send and receive e-mail, but it is good to see the whole family listing by families, and to get a sense of where each one at this date. (I know how fleeting such locations can be.)
Lucile was the grown-up cousin who had my life-long admiration, so I was glad I could be with her family at her memorial service. Stella Mae Scharf
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Relating the Story of Lucile Rowntree's Birth upon the occasion of her interment 3/15/2008
Long ago on a cold and gloomy day in January, a lone horseman rode fast toward the town miles away. Bundled up against the wind and light snow, the hired man hunched over the horse’s back as he urged his horse on. The wife of his employer needed a doctor to assist in the birth of her second child who was trying to come into the world a bit early.
Riding in a small covered buggy toward a home a few miles away, the anxious husband hurried to ask his mother-in-law to come and assist with the birth until the doctor could be fetched. He had left his brave and laboring wife with a young hired girl to assist her, but he knew he needed someone more experienced than the frightened fifteen-year-old Maud.
In the small ranch house built of wood and stone, Leila, the expectant mother, tried to await the help of doctor and her mother, but nature urged differently. Annie Lucile Smith came into the world attended only by her mother, for young Maud had run away in fear when the moment of delivery arrived. Leila, alone, swaddled her baby in the bed sheets, hobbled to the kitchen, cut the umbilical cord, boiled water for bathing her baby, and was found standing at the kitchen sink completing her tasks when her husband and mother finally arrived to help her. Several hours later, the doctor arrived and pronounced mother and child healthy and strong.
The home into which Annie Lucile was born had no electricity, running water or indoor plumbing, but she had parents of strength and resilience. She had an older brother to admire and soon a younger sister to adore. Lucile was bright, beautiful and beloved.
Those of us here knew of her strength, goodness and loving nature. Our lives are so rich for having known her love. We bring her back here to rest 96 years later.
“ Her children rise up and call her blessed.” Proverbs 31:28
Riding in a small covered buggy toward a home a few miles away, the anxious husband hurried to ask his mother-in-law to come and assist with the birth until the doctor could be fetched. He had left his brave and laboring wife with a young hired girl to assist her, but he knew he needed someone more experienced than the frightened fifteen-year-old Maud.
In the small ranch house built of wood and stone, Leila, the expectant mother, tried to await the help of doctor and her mother, but nature urged differently. Annie Lucile Smith came into the world attended only by her mother, for young Maud had run away in fear when the moment of delivery arrived. Leila, alone, swaddled her baby in the bed sheets, hobbled to the kitchen, cut the umbilical cord, boiled water for bathing her baby, and was found standing at the kitchen sink completing her tasks when her husband and mother finally arrived to help her. Several hours later, the doctor arrived and pronounced mother and child healthy and strong.
The home into which Annie Lucile was born had no electricity, running water or indoor plumbing, but she had parents of strength and resilience. She had an older brother to admire and soon a younger sister to adore. Lucile was bright, beautiful and beloved.
Those of us here knew of her strength, goodness and loving nature. Our lives are so rich for having known her love. We bring her back here to rest 96 years later.
“ Her children rise up and call her blessed.” Proverbs 31:28
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Saying Goodbye
After returning home from an emotional weekend, filled with numerous farewells to Lucile, the entire last week has neatly distilled in my mind to a few prominent thoughts, two of which I wanted to share.
The first thought is that the Rowntree clan has been blessed with a new opportunity as a family. As an outlaw, I often watch the goings-on and see a collection of individuals, drawn together for events organized by others. This last weekend I saw more sharing of time, stories, emotions and laughter than ever before.
The gathering seemed charged with a desire to reach out, and while it's heart-breaking to see Lucile's death being necessary to galvanize the group as a whole, it has served a very positive purpose. I think the challenge (opportunity) will be to maintain all the energy and contact from here on. The annual reunion surrounding her birthday will now have to take place based on all the family member's desire to preserve a great clan.
The second thought, is that in the end, we're judged by the number of ripples we leave on the pond.
In my work in motivation and goal-setting coaching, one of the exercises is to write your own eulogy. It makes a person focus on where they've been and where they intend to go. Most people come away feeling as if they haven't lived up to their potential, and vowing to improve.
I don't think anyone can ever truly know how they have affected others' lives, but they can work to do their best to leave the Earth a better place than when they arrived. Lucile clearly did this. She was a selfless servant (as so many pointed out) who gave completely of herself. Those who met her came away better, and those who truly knew her found a friend, a mentor, a safe haven and a delightful companion.
Her life charged, and changed many others. The ripples will continue for many generations to come, and not diminish if we all work to further her impact in our own daily interactions with friends, family, business contacts and complete strangers. A big challenge -- but not too lofty a goal -- and a great way to honor her memory.
My personal thanks to each of you for the conversations, tears, laughter and warm embraces this last weekend. I felt her looking down and enjoying the activity.
Ski Sullivan
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Dallas News Listing
All,
You can view the formal obituary at the Dallas News site link in the title of this post.
You can view the formal obituary at the Dallas News site link in the title of this post.
Upcoming Posts and Tributes
To All,
We're starting this site as a tribute to our dear Lucile.
Please feel free to comment on any and all posts. As I get the email roster from Rachel, and additional photos from you all, we will add them into the library to be viewed here as a slideshow.
We're starting this site as a tribute to our dear Lucile.
Please feel free to comment on any and all posts. As I get the email roster from Rachel, and additional photos from you all, we will add them into the library to be viewed here as a slideshow.
Tributes from the Dallas Morning News
Many people are leaving tributes to Lucile on the Dallas Morning News website. We have linked to it above, and include comments we read today, Friday March 14, 2008.
March 13, 2008
I'LL MISS my great-grandmother
Meredith Sullivan (GP, TX)
March 13, 2008
The sweetest grandmother a girl could ask for. So full of love, kindness, good advice and a soft kiss. Her goodness radiated. You were a better person for having known her. I will miss her so much! - Laura
Laura Moore Van Hoosier (TX)
March 12, 2008
After hearing so many great things about your grandmother (Laura Van Hoosier) since I met you in the past year, I know she will be missed by many. Your family is in our thoughts and prayers.
Larie Cappadonna (Magnolia, TX)
March 12, 2008
I remember Lucile from Lee Jr. High in Grand Prairie. I was choir teacher from 1955 to 1969. She was a lovely person. I extend my condolences to the family.
James Anthony (Quitman, TX)
March 12, 2008
In 1967 your mom taught me English Composition. She was one of the most remarkably gifted teachers of all my 16 years of school. I shall never forget her.
Robert Trietsch (Grand Prairie, TX)
March 12, 2008
Paul,
I am sorry to hear about your Mother's passing. What an incredible life & legacy.
Regards,
Gayla
Gayla Perkins (Dallas, TX)
March 13, 2008
I'LL MISS my great-grandmother
Meredith Sullivan (GP, TX)
March 13, 2008
The sweetest grandmother a girl could ask for. So full of love, kindness, good advice and a soft kiss. Her goodness radiated. You were a better person for having known her. I will miss her so much! - Laura
Laura Moore Van Hoosier (TX)
March 12, 2008
After hearing so many great things about your grandmother (Laura Van Hoosier) since I met you in the past year, I know she will be missed by many. Your family is in our thoughts and prayers.
Larie Cappadonna (Magnolia, TX)
March 12, 2008
I remember Lucile from Lee Jr. High in Grand Prairie. I was choir teacher from 1955 to 1969. She was a lovely person. I extend my condolences to the family.
James Anthony (Quitman, TX)
March 12, 2008
In 1967 your mom taught me English Composition. She was one of the most remarkably gifted teachers of all my 16 years of school. I shall never forget her.
Robert Trietsch (Grand Prairie, TX)
March 12, 2008
Paul,
I am sorry to hear about your Mother's passing. What an incredible life & legacy.
Regards,
Gayla
Gayla Perkins (Dallas, TX)
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