My mother’s 100-year-old body has just given out on her, and as I write this she is resting peacefully in the nursing home where she lives. She’s not expected to last more than a few more days, perhaps weeks.

The following are excerpts from the eulogy I’ll deliver at graveside, if my emotions allow.

Grateful for Mom and Gallatin

I’m grateful to have been the daughter of Katherine Lucille Snyder. And I’m grateful to have grown up in Gallatin, Missouri, where we were free to roam the neighborhood—or in our case, the entire city–in search of adventure. While we were out seeking adventure, our moms often were at home, cleaning, ironing, baking cookies, having coffee with one or more of the neighbors or fixing tapioca or instant pudding for supper’s dessert.

A Century of Living

My mom was born July 28, 1920, in Great Bend, Kansas. She was one of eight children, and her family struggled severely during the Great Depression, growing much of their own food in a back yard garden and keeping chickens for meat and eggs. Most of her clothes were homemade and hand-me-downs from older sisters, and those then were passed down to younger siblings.  I remember her telling me one of her brothers went to high school with one pair of pants that her mother would wash nightly so he’d be clean going to class. My grandparents were both German immigrants, my grandfather arriving in this country as a baby and my grandmother coming as a young woman. My grandfather ran a tobacco and candy store in Great Bend, then he added a pool hall to put a couple of his sons to work, so when the Depression hit, his business fell to practically nothing, devastating the family. My grandmother took in washing, and the family really suffered hard times.

Off to the Big City

But Mom graduated from Great Bend High School in 1938 full of hope. She moved to Kansas City, Missouri, and made her home with her sister, Margaret (Peggy) Alber and family, and she was employed in Kansas City until her marriage.

She married my dad, Joseph R. Snyder on April 4, 1943, and joined him in several places during World War II until he was sent to the Pacific as a press officer on General Douglas MacArthur’s staff. She then returned to Kansas City and worked in the office of the Pratt-Whitney Aircraft factory.

Mom Saved for First Newspaper

When Dad returned from the Pacific at the end of World War II, they purchased a weekly newspaper business in Natoma, Kansas, with money Mom had saved from Dad’s Army paycheck and her own job, and it was there that my sister, Cindy, and I were born.

Lots of Moves

In 1950, they sold the business and purchased another weekly newspaper, They were there nearly a year when Dad was called back into the service during the Korean war. They sold the business in a hurry and moved to Ft. Knox, Kentucky, where Dad was Public Information Officer at the post. The next year Dad was sent to Japan and Korea and was back on MacArthur’s press staff. Mom, my sister and I moved to Kansas City, where I attended kindergarten. Occasionally a wooden box would arrive from Dad. Once it contained Japanese geisha dolls. At Christmas he sent silk pajamas and robes for us all. Mom’s modeling hers in the photo above. Yet another time, Dad sent beautiful bride dolls. Finally, he sent several boxes that contained what became Mom’s company china.

Chance Visit

When Dad returned from Korea he was visiting in the offices of the Kansas City Star one day when he ran into William R. “Scout” Harrison, who was looking for a partner in his newspaper in Gallatin, so off we came, and Scout took a job in the Eisenhower Administration with Voice of America. Eventually Dad purchased the newspaper outright, and my parents published the North Missourian and operated Lakeland Publications, a newspaper printing operation.

An Adventure Growing Up

It was an adventure growing up as the daughter of the newspaper editor. People weren’t always happy with what was reported or commented upon.  Mom was primarily at home until Cindy and I were older when she took an expanded role at the newspaper. However, throughout my growing up years she always reported “locals,” the news about who was visiting from out of town and where Gallatin residents had gone to visit. It kept our phone ringing all day and evening. And she couldn’t just take down the information. Mom had to inquire about specifics of how everyone was doing.

Homemade Clothing

At home, Mom made lots of our clothes, purchasing fabric and patterns from one of two local department stores. Sometimes she made Cindy and I matching dresses, something we didn’t always like. Occasionally all three of us wore matching dresses. Mom also hated wasting anything. She would darn Dad’s and our socks, and she always turned Dad’s shirt collars to get extra wear. You also could always find in her freezer tiny Tupperware containers that she saved for the days Dad was at Rotary over the noon-hour. She would have these marked with masking tape saying things like “corn,” “tuna casserole,” “chili.”

High Heels and Anklets

By the way, moms, in my growing up years, almost always wore dresses, always with an apron in the kitchen. They usually wore high heels, even with anklets. She didn’t own a pair of jeans, rarely wore pants and even more rarely shorts. She had no sneakers and no sandals, unless you counted those with heels that she wore with hosiery to church on Sunday.

Church Was Important

Church was important to both my parents. But my mother fought the battle with my sister and I on whether we could walk home after Sunday School or had to stay for church. No coaxing was needed, however, for the periodic church basement potlucks. Cindy and I were always eager to attend to mix with other youngsters and sample the food the great Methodist cooks provided! She constantly asked in adult years if we were attending church regularly, registering strong approval if the answer was “yes” and letting us know what she thought if we responded otherwise.

Sharing of a Car and a Life

My parents always shared a car. Dad would take it to work in the morning. After he came home for lunch and a 20-minute nap, Mom would take him back to work so she’d have the car in the afternoon for errands. It seemed to work well for them. What also worked well for them was their marriage of 71 years. I’m sure it had its moments, which I don’t know about. But they learned a remarkable give and take.

Always Affectionate

They were always openly affectionate with one another. Every night after dinner, Dad would come around the table, put his arms around Mom, thank her for dinner and they would kiss briefly. Mom really ran the household, finances and the children. But my sister and I always knew we could go to Dad for a more lenient opinion if he didn’t know Mom had already said “no.” Mom yielded to Dad on matters of his newspaper career, something he was passionate about. That passion for the business spilled over to me. Even after my parents sold their Gallatin newspaper, Dad continued to write a column for a number of years, even after my parents moved away. In the last couple of years as Dad’s Alzheimer’s robbed him of his ability, Mom continued the column, always asking Dad to read over it before she sent it off for publication in his name.

Move to Texas

Mom and Dad moved to Texas in 2001 to be near me and my family. One by one her seven brothers and sisters died, along with their spouses. “Now I’m the only one left,” she said, many times.

Learning and Loving

So what did I learn and what will I miss? I admire the loving environment she created for my sister, my dad and I as we grew up. I admire her activity in the community, from working within the church to calling upon what she called “shut-ins” around town to volunteering with 4-H, Scouts and other activities my sister and I became involved in. She took me to countless allergy appointments in Kansas City, often on the bus. And when I had rheumatic fever when I was 14, she spent all day every day with me at the hospital in Cameron for the 21 days I was there packing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for herself every day.

The Things We Didn’t Want to Learn

She was always there, helping my sister and I learn responsibility—things like doing the after-supper dishes, which generally was a battle, and picking up toys and discarded clothes in our rooms. Another battle often was practicing the piano. I wanted to learn to play but somehow thought it would happen by osmosis. She also worked hard to keep me from beating up on or otherwise mistreating my baby sister and always said that one day, I’d be glad to have a sister, something I didn’t understand at the time. Mom understood lots of truths. And she disciplined sternly and with love. Some of Mom’s lessons I applied to my own life and some I didn’t for reasons probably not worth going into here, but I’m not sure my own independent choices have always been the best. Mom would probably agree.

I’ll Miss Her

Part of what I’ll miss about her is the feeling that she’s there to offer counsel from her years of living. She’s always loving and supportive no matter the circumstances. In the past few years, Mom suffered a decline in short-term memory, something she has found frustrating and depressing. But, at least until confusion took over during her decline the past few weeks, she still possessed the wisdom of someone who lived for a century. Knowing that her support is just a jaunt down the road is something I’ll really miss. Love you, Mom.