A Eulogy For My Mom

The stories we tell to one another are how we come to know each other. For as long as I can remember, my mother shared stories about her life.

Sometimes the stories she told were used to amuse us, other times the stories were used to make us appreciate what we had instead of what we didn't have.

So when I sat down to write this eulogy, the stories she told, as well as my own stories about mom, came to the forefront.

I offer you now, as I remember them, the stories of my mother that have become such a part of who I am.

My mother was born in Muncie Indiana, the first of two daughters, to Mary Alice Daugherty and Jesse William Stansberry.

As my brothers, sisters and I grew up, mom told stories of playing follow-the-leader along the White River and catching lightning bugs with her sister, Jo Ann. She played jacks, jumped rope and cut out paper dolls. Even then she was a good artist and would draw horses on paper for Jo Ann to cut out and play with.

I shuddered every time she told me about going to the coal shed to gather coal. The shed had rats. She would throw a piece of coal at the rats so that they would scatter, giving her enough time to grab a few pieces of coal and run back to the house.

I stared in disbelief when she said that she and her sister only got one new pair of shoes each year, at Easter, and that they wore cardboard on the inside of the shoes when the soles wore thin.

She told us about the extended family that always lived nearby and the ever-present cousins; Jeanie, Rosemary, Linda, Geneva Lee and Bobby. While mom was a young girl, before the family moved to California, her cousin Linda lived with them. First at "the projects" and then on a farm at the edge of town with a cornfield and cherry trees that grew near the house.

As soon as they got to the farm - she, Jo Ann and Linda climbed right up into those trees and ate cherries until they literally could not eat one more bite! My grandmother cautioned them, "Get out of those trees - you girls are going to make yourselves sick", and sure enough, they did.

The girls walked to school with three brothers - Jim, Jack and Jerry - who lived on the neighboring farm. As long as the boys were with them, they could take a short-cut through the cornfield without being afraid of getting lost in it.

Mom was the oldest of the cousins, the caretaker - the one who always watched over the younger ones.

One day Jo Ann got in trouble at school and the teacher made her stay after class as punishment. When she was finally excused and able to go home, she came out to find mom, Linda, Jim, Jack and Jerry sitting on the steps outside the school waiting for her. Mom knew that Jo Ann would be afraid to walk home alone.

She had a tremendous love of family and emphasized the importance of staying together and taking care of each other to all of us as we grew up.

My mother attended Harrison Elementary, McKinley Junior High School and Muncie Central High while in Indiana but it was at Huntington Park High School, here in California, that she met her husband, Lowell "Ed" Davis in a bookkeeping class. It was 1955.

As fate would have it, they each went their own way, raising families and following their own paths, until they found each other again, married in 1980 and celebrated 29 years together as husband and wife. She and Ed bowled together for years and loved traveling to Las Vegas and Laughlin for league play.

They also shared a mutual love for dogs. As a child she had Blackie, Tippy and King. There was Junior and Puppy while we were growing up. Then came Duchess, Heidi, Greta and her sweet Isabelle who she laughingly referred to when she was a pup as "just like Marmaduke". Big paws and all legs!

My most vivid memory of mom is of a woman always in motion. She was the type of person who made a house a home. Mom's essence, I believe, was to be a doer and she loved getting the entire family together. She was one of the most amazing people I have ever met and will probably ever meet.

Every childhood memory I have has my mother in it.

Always there, always doing things that showed me she cared. She was the mom who baked goodies for school parties and volunteered to be a room mother.

She was the one who would load 10, or maybe it was 13, neighborhood kids into the Corvair and drive us to school on a rainy day. We would be packed into that car like sardines, stacked on each other's laps. Do you remember climbing out the back windows in front of the school because the doors were stuck and wouldn't open? I do.

She was at every parade I marched in, doing that last minute run in front of the banner team to make sure that everyone was lined up straight and ready to go.

She helped us with science projects, ran my sisters to dance class and shuttled my brothers to baseball practice. She was my Girl Scout leader and served on the PTA. She taught me to sew and how to crochet a rag rug. She was an entrepreneur - owning and operating three businesses with her husband, Ed. Diversified Interviews, Davis Consulting Services and Jet Ski & Co.

From my mom, I inherited a love of reading and writing.

As I became an adult, my mother became my best friend. We shared common traits, a passion for genealogy research and a desire to document our family history.

We started doing that in 1993 and began searching for her father.

He disappeared, without a trace, on his way to California in 1954 and she wanted more than anything to solve that mystery. We still have yet to.

We wanted to know more than just the beginning and ending dates of one's life. We wanted the stories - for it's the stories that mold us, that tell of how we came to be and who we are.

A couple of years ago mom accompanied me on trip to Indiana. It was a business trip for me, an adventure for her, and the memory of it makes me smile.

While we were there, she had her first non-fat sugar-free vanilla latte at Starbucks and loved it!

Mom quickly became a Latte Lover but could not remember how to order it, so for months she called me from whatever Starbucks counter she was at and asked, "what is it I want?" so that she could place her order.

From then on, I made it a point to stop at Starbucks on my way in to visit and pick up Vanilla Latte's for the two of us.

One of my favorite memories of mom took place in September 2007 when my sister, Cathi, hosted a Girls Weekend at her condo in Oceanside.

Mom, Cathi, Patty, Jackie and I laughed, ate, talked and walked along the beach.

One evening we whipped up a luscious concoction that fell somewhere between Sangria and a Wine Spritzer, grabbed some munchies and dropped ourselves onto the floor around the coffee table to play L-C-R.

When Cathi was done explaining the game and going over the rules, Mom threw her arms up and exclaimed, "And the one who wins is the winner!" We roared.

My mother was my Matron of Honor when I married Warren 12 years ago.

Mom spent her life caring for others, instilling that quality in her children. But most importantly, she taught us about life.

She taught us to never to give up, to keep moving forward, to find your passion and do the best you can. To "rise above it" and that "two wrongs don't make a right".

After raising six children, she received her Associate's Degree in Business Administration at Orange Coast College.

She was named an Honoree Mother at the Annual Awards Presentation and Luncheon honoring The California State Mother of 1976, sponsored by the American Mother's Committee of California.

Mom loved to paint and was a natural artist. During the 1960's she studied oil painting and dabbled in water color, but found her passion in China Painting.

Over the years she perfected her technique and had a special gift for creating beautiful china plates decorated with exquisite floral designs.

She shared her talent with all of us through gifts of beautifully painted nativity sets, dated Christmas ornaments and the delicately painted baby shoes that she made for each newborn.

She won several awards for her work and was a member of the International Porcelain Artists and Teachers Association.

Mom loved roses and enjoyed gardening.

She was a Lakers fan and loved wearing her Kobe Bryant jersey.

She has always loved Elvis but had recently discovered country music and Trace Adkins.

Her favorite song quickly became Honky Tonk Badonk A Donk and she was very excited when we purchased tickets to see Trace and Alan Jackson perform in November 2008 at the Citizens Business Bank Arena in Ontario.

She immediately went out and bought his CD so that she could memorize the songs and be able to sing along at the concert.

I've heard it said that only the best mom's are promoted to grandma's. Her legacy leaves 24 grandchildren and 11 great grandchildren. Well, "that's a life you can hang your hat on".

While Mom is not here in the flesh, she is definitely here in spirit. She will always be in our hearts. So much of the person I became can be traced directly to my mother.

In a way, I am the walking embodiment of Janet Wray Stansberry Davis, as we all are. We are her legacy, because while we live - she lives on. So I cannot grieve too much today - because she is not just all around me, she is a part of me.

Knowing this, I can accept her passing. I am relieved that her suffering is at an end and that she is no longer in pain. When I miss her, I close my eyes and feel her spirit close to me.

In an essay about her father, author Marion Winik wrote, "Before you lose a parent, you think, Oh God, what will I do if one of them dies? Then it happens, and you find out you can't do anything. You just go on. Maybe you can try to become what you miss most."

Resolutions of Respect

My great-great-grandfather, George B. Carr, belonged to Tomahawk Tribe No. 333 of the Improved Order of Red Men of Muncie, Indiana. Popular in the 1800's and early 1900's, this fraternal society was founded on the manners, customs and traditions of the American Indian. It was one of the largest and oldest fraternal societies of American origin and its founders were the Patriots of 1776. Upon his death, a Resolutions of Respect was issued to the family.

In Memory of

Brother George Carr who died February 3, 1916

Once again the "Great Spirit" hath summoned through death, a brother Red Man, to take the long trail to the "Happy Hunting Grounds, to the Kingdom of Ponenah, to a life in the Land of the Hereafter." He has been a diligent and faithful worker in our Tribe's labors of Freedom, Friendship and Clarity, and has contributed freely of aid in relieving the necessities of the widow and orphan. As a recompense of his service he has received the plaudit, "well done" from the Great Spirit.

And whereas, the all-wise and merciful Father has called our beloved and respected Brother home and he having been a true and faithful member of our Mystic Order, therefore be it Resolved that Tomahawk Tribe, No. 333 Order of Red Men of Muncie Indiana in testimony of our loss, tenders to the family of our deceased Brother our sincere condolence in the deep affliction, and that a copy of these resolutions be sent to the family.

[signed by the Committee]

Jesse Pooch

Elmer Kennedy

Chas. A. Langdon

Rosemary Hillier has the Carr Family Bible that this document was found in.

Jesse William Stansberry

My maternal grandfather's name was Jesse William Stansberry and he married my grandmother, Mary Alice Daugherty on May 15, 1937 in Muncie, Indiana. They divorced eight years later in September of 1945 when my mother (Janet) was six and a half years old. Jesse was born in Newcastle, Indiana on September 5, 1913, the youngest child of Jacob Stansberry and Myrtle Daisy Strong. He had three older siblings; Theodore, Hazel Marie and Montreau Leota. The last documented information I have for him is found in the 1953 Muncie Indiana Directory where he is shown living with his second wife, Ira L, at 1114 S. Franklin where he had lived since 1948. His occupation is listed as a factory worker for Warner Gear. He and Ira divorced in November of 1953 and he, as the story goes, left Muncie and headed for California in 1954 to see my mother and her sister, Jo Ann. He was never heard from again and everyone assumed that he died on the way although nothing has ever been found to confirm that.

Orthopaedic Hospital

My grandmother, Mary Alice Paris, cared for children as a Licensed Vocational Nurse (LVN) at Orthopaedic Hospital, 2400 South Flower Street in Los Angeles, California for nineteen years, from 1958 until she retired in 1977. I can visualize her white uniform, the white stockings and shoes, and the crisp white nurse's cap held to her head with white bobby-pins. She developed lasting friendships with her co-workers; Mason, Shryer, and Sutherland. These ladies always called each other by their last names. It never dawned on me that they even had first names until we were putting the guest list together for my wedding in 1975 and they were included. It was here, at Orthopaedic Hospital, that I had my tonsils removed when I was two years old.

Poppy

He was my grandfather, was know as Gib, but I called him Poppy. Gilbert Edwin Paris was born April 14, 1908 in Greencastle, Indiana to Fred and Mary Frances Paris. He served in World War II as a U.S. Army Staff Sergeant from 1942-1945 and married my grandmother, Mary Alice (Daugherty) Stansberry in 1947. Although he wasn't my grandfather "by blood" he was, without a doubt, one of the most important men in my life. I remember when he took me shopping, and we went to Gemco, to buy a record album for my thirteenth birthday. We came back with Jingle Jangle by The Archies, and he let me play it on the record player in his stereo cabinet. I was eighteen years old when I got married in 1975 and can still see him standing on the chair in the reception hall at the church so that he could see me cut the cake. I also remember how he quietly slipped me a $100 bill during the dollar dance. He died September 1, 1980 in Cudahy, Los Angeles County, California and I miss him. I'm glad that he was alive when my sons were born and pleased that we chose to honor him by giving Steven Gilbert his name. He was so proud.

Dillinger Gang

Our family does have a small claim to Dillinger Gang fame as my Great-Gramma Effie's first cousin, Myrtle Gladys Hubbard, married Harry E. Copeland in 1920. Copeland was a key player in Dillinger's three holdups in East Central Indiana in the summer of 1933. He also took part in breaking Dillinger out of the Allen County, Ohio jail that October. I feel inclined to mention this tie with the recent release of Public Enemies, starring Johnny Depp as John Dillinger, even though Copeland is apparently not a character in the movie. Rumor has it that Gramma Effie actually met John Dillinger. It wouldn't surprise me.

Married in Tijuana

My mom, Janet Wray Stansberry, was barely seventeen years old when she met my father, Thomas Dougald Campbell, at a roller skating rink in Huntington Park, California. The Skating Rink was located on Pacific Boulevard right next door to a diner called Chili Junction where she and her friends hung out. It was the middle of December 1955 and he was almost twenty years old. She left high school and married him four weeks later on January 17, 1956 in Tijuana, Mexico.

Effie Jane Carr

My great-grandmother was born December 20, 1896 in the Estillville District of Gate City, Scott County, Virginia. She was the fourth child of George B. Carr and Alice Lee Moore. She died November 6, 1970 in Maywood, Los Angeles County, California and is buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Hollywood Hills. Her birth record actually shows her name as "Effa" which I imagine was due to the, most likely, thick Kentucky accent of her father and it was spelled exactly as he probably pronounced it but we just called her Big Fat Gramma. She was married three times, her first being to Sidney Jackson Hammond, with whom she had two daughters; Bernice and Jewel. Her second marriage was to Jesse Sylvester Daugherty and she had four more children; Leslie Harold, Mary Alice (my grandmother), Wilma Lucille and Anna Ruth. Her third husband was Arthur Eppard. My Gramma, Mary Alice (Daugherty) Paris told me in 1973 when I was working on my high school family history report, that the family left Virginia in the middle of the night because George Carr, who was in the lumber business, got into a fight with his business partner, Col. Ayers, and knocked him unconscious. Fearing him dead, the family fled to Indiana. My mom, Janet, remembers how her grandmother Effie always wore loosely wrapped gauze bandages on her legs and her feet to cover ulcerated sores that would not heal. She says that even the smallest child knew to stay away from her feet and legs. Effie's sisters, Mary Elizabeth (Carr) Sweatt and Sudie Carr remember Jesse Daugherty and Effie, as well as Effie & Art Eppard, bootlegging. They tell how Effie, to entertain the family, would put on a sun bonnet to look like a mountain woman, throw a gallon jug of whiskey over her shoulder and pour a shot without spilling a drop. True stories? Maybe.