Reminiscences

 

“That which we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us.”      -Helen Keller

Program from Celebration of Life service, June 9, 2012, below.

Scroll down for text of reminiscences.  (if you have reminiscences to add, please send them to Sue at smcl@uw.edu)

Celebration of Life

Introduction and Memories         Sue McLaughlin

Thoughts           Katie McLaughlin

Reminiscences from grandchildren

Reminiscences from Neighbors           Jeanne Whitlaw

She Was The Last of the Mohicans     Barbara Johns Swan        

Favorite Billie Songs: 

 We Are the World                          Entire Group, led by

                                        Mollie and Addie

It’s Three O’Clock in the Morning  Chris and Ann

Deep Purple                                         Dina Blade

The Moon Has His Eyes on You      Dina Blade

        

INTRODUCTION AND MEMORIES: Sue McLaughlin

I’m Sue, Billie’s youngest daughter. Because as a family we don’t have any particular religious faith, our memorial services tend to be kind of ad-hoc, do-it-yourself affairs. So I’m essentially going to be a master of ceremonies: I’ll talk a little about my Mom, and introduce the other speakers and singers.

I want to thank everybody for coming here to celebrate the long and (mostly) happy life of Billie Eileen Riddoch McLaughlin. As most of you here know, Billie was a vibrant, opinionated, and very gregarious woman who had many circles of family and friends of many ages.

I want to acknowledge some of those circles that are here to celebrate Billie (and if you don’t feel acknowledged, please feel free to just shout out!). There are her old friends – her Broadway High School Alumni Group (the high school itself closed in 1946, after the war, but it has a very loyal and active group of alumni).  Also present are childhood friends of hers (some of you whom she had known since kindergarten), and co-workers from the Census Bureau, Children’s Hospital, and the Northeast Branch Library.  And then there are new friends of hers, many of them quite young, like my kids’ teacher and classmates from St. Joseph School. There are many generations of View Ridge neighbors – including importantly, the Savage Clan (who aren’t savage people, that’s their last name.  They lived next door for decades)– and our extended family, including Billie’s nieces and nephews from the Wilcoxons,  Mugfords, the Ralph McLaughlins, and the Johnses, many of whom are here today.

There are all of Billie’s four children – me, Chris, Ann, Katie – and our husbands, partners, ex-husbands and ex-partners, and friends – and finally and probably most importantly to Billie: her three grandchildren – Addie, Mollie, and Jonathan (who is now called Jon by almost everyone except his parents).

I want to highlight the term, “Celebration of Life.” We really are here to celebrate my Mom’s life. We’re incredibly sad that she died – and will miss her tremendously. We have received comfort – and hope you will too – in the knowledge that she died quickly, peacefully, and painlessly (it was basically multiple organ systems failure; her body just gave out), at home, surrounded by her family.

But she wasn’t about death and mourning; she was about life. As one of my friends wrote me: “I thought your Mom would never die.” She was always so alive, so connected with and interested in the world and current events, so active. She was not a senior who sat in her home.  In fact, she was out and about until just a few weeks ago.  Once it was too hard for her to go out, I asked her if she was bored being confined at home, to which she immediately agreed.   

She was intensely involved in archiving and preserving Seattle history (especially Broadway High School); she wrote successful grant proposals for preservation funds; and with others published The Whims (an annual Broadway alumni newsletter). (In fact, the latest edition went to press this week after we managed to unearth important drafts that were on her computer.). She also volunteered, most recently at the Seattle Public Library; campaigned for her niece Patty Murray; went to parties for the neighborhood kids; and had my husband Jeff, me, and our girls over to her house for dinner almost every Sunday night.  All this in her late 80s.

Other notes I received from friends and family make repeated mention of how kind and inclusive my Mom was. She went out of her way to make people comfortable. I would say she almost pathologically hospitable.

I think of how funny and lively she was. After she died and we were looking through her papers, instead of finding a will, we found a folder labeled “Twits & Tidbits for After I Croak” which I’m holding up for you to see.   It contains some of the highly essential information that my Mom needed to make sure got passed on, such as, from this entirely full handwritten sheet of notebook paper: “Do not go to coin shop on 35th – does not give good advice,” “Pull string STRAIGHT OUT on the Mr. Ed talking puppet once a month,” and “The trap for the bath tub drain is under the floor board of the linen closet – surprise!” I also think of how beautiful and fashionable she was. As you can see from the old pictures, she was a glamour girl of the 40s, and as she got older, she remained stunning.

And finally, I think of how essential she was: Jeff and I called her multiple times daily for Seattle news or traffic or history information; every time there was a traffic jam she could reroute us.  We called her frequently for cooking and cleaning advice, and we relied on her weekly pile of carefully sorted (into selected categories) newspaper clippings that kept us up-to-date on Seattle happenings.  Every Sunday after eating at her house, Jeff would carry away a full bag of clippings, all annotated with her comments in red ink.  I don’t know what we will do without her.

What my Mom always said she wanted at her memorial service was a party: less mourning, more joy. She wanted people to eat, drink, talk, and mingle to her favorite Duke Ellington music. So we’re going to try to keep the program part of this celebration relatively short, so you can do just that. Have a party. Like Billie wanted.

THOUGHTS: Katie McLaughlin

To be provided at a later time.  Check back!

REMINISCENCES FROM NEIGHBORS: Jeanne Whitlaw

Morning,

There are many definitions of neighbor.  The one that I thought most fit Billie is “ a person who shows kindliness and helpfulness towards her fellow human beings.”

Billie made 52nd Ave NE the warm welcoming street that it is today.  She reached out to neighbors and helped them feel connected.  Billie was interested in each person’s story, loved the children, especially on her front porch on Halloween and was like a third Grandma to the families that lived next door.  She shared her find of a good handyman with another widow on the block.  Billie and Jean Gillespie could be seen every week going to their volunteer job at the library.  Billie valued the history of the neighborhood by keeping a photo album of each block party. She was truly “ Queen of the Block Party.”

My family and I were personally the recipients of all the good I have just listed about Billie.  I was privy to another of her personality traits; one I am sure that her own children discovered long ago.  You can run, but you cannot hide from Billie McLaughlin.  Billie cherished an updated street roster and some of us were in charge of delivering them to mailboxes.  Billie had left at least two messages on my machine that the rosters were ready for pickup. I ignored those messages.  Subsequently I received a call from Billie.  She was calling me on her cell phone at the end of my driveway. Busted by Billie!

I can speak for all on our street in saying that Billie was truly a remarkable woman whose pleasure was in taking care of all of us.  She will be missed greatly but her legacy will live on in how we take care of and watch out for our neighbors.

SHE WAS THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS: Thoughts from The Cousins: Barbara Johns Swan

I stand here today as a representative from the McLaughlin-Johns side of the family – the cousins who grew up in the outskirts of Seattle in an age range similar to these McLaughlin Girls.  My Mom and Uncle Jack were siblings who lived through wars and welfare and arrived in Seattle as newlyweds and raised families in a “different yet similar fashion” in the Pacific Northwest. Our families had holiday parties together, celebrated milestones and were duly apprised of “the cousins” life enterprises through diligent reports from our mothers as we grew up.   

The news that our Auntie Billie had decided to join the rest of the party in the heavens came as a shock.  It just did not seem right that our stiff-spined Auntie Billie, who always called a spade a spade and could always be counted on to pull no punches, was not going to be sitting in her hillside house checking up on us.

She always told my kids to call her Gabby – for Great Aunt Billie – an appropriate choice for many reason and because her quotes and opinions have sprinkled our lives with verve and humor since we were born.

 

My brother Bob remarked that “We know Billie is in the heavens organizing the angels to put a hex upon the Republicans.”

   

My sister Patty said “truly one of a kind. I could always count on her straight-up critiques of what was going on in the world. Will so miss her random calls and notes - she always told me who needed what for - and expected me to deliver it - straight up to the President of the United States.”

My niece remarked “it’s an end of an era.”

All of my siblings seemed to feel the shift of that era.  The last of my parent’s generation who could connect us with the ideologies with which we grew up had moved on.

When I heard the sad news I remarked to friends, “I shall miss my regular monthly phone conversations with Auntie Billie, the chance to hear her voice gloat with pride over her grandchildren, her cackling laughter with each punch line, her assured voice telling me that my Mother would “get such a kick “out of certain things to do with our family, her derisive snorts over various Republican quotes, her clipped and mailed articles that would arrive at my house.  

My Auntie Billie was a true treasure – and I shall miss her so.

When we lost our mom, my siblings and I bonded together just a little bit more – close though we always were in our own unbalanced way – and the loss of our parents reminded us to look out for each other just a little bit more.   I wish that for my cousins now.   May you find the bond that your parents gave you and let it hold you together.  Family is truly a wondrous thing.  Remember now that we are your family too – and here for you as well.

 

GRANDCHILDRENS’ MEMORIES: Jonathan Gneezy, Addie McLaughlin, Mollie McLaughlin

My name is Jonathan (also known as Jon or JB The Baby), son of Chris and Ofer, and Billie's grandson.   I actually feel funny calling her Billie, until I read her obituary I always thought her name was just Grandma.  Also here with me are her other two grandchildren Addie and Mollie, the daughters of Sue and Jeff.  I am 25, they are six.

First, since we are the last speakers, I need to tell you about what will happen after we finish.  After we share our memories, all of you are invited to join us in singing some favorite Billie Songs, led by Dina Blade.  Then we have some time to enjoy the food and mingle - but I have to remind you that all of us have to be out of here by 12:15 because there is a wedding here this afternoon.  Please don't be offended if cleanup starts while you are still chatting with friends.

And now on to what I'm really here to talk about - nanaimo bars.

 

Really, this is a fun time, a celebration of life - so we are going to talk about food.  Food is something that was a big part of Grandma's life, and something she taught us all to love.  I think half of my memories in Seattle are of being around her family room table - I remember every little detail: the ruffled green placemats, the waffles that were so good they could get a grumpy teenager to wake up before his parents to help her cook them, the honey and butter heated up on the stove until they were just right to put on top, and how the spoons were never big enough to slather the waffles in butter like I really wanted.  Whew, it's really a miracle I lost some weight.

Then of course the other half of my Seattle memories are of sneaking into the kitchen late at night or first thing in the morning to devour another nanaimo bar.  I know I keep going on about the nanaimo bars, but every single person I asked for their memories mentioned them - so now I know why there were always so few left.  

Besides the nanaimo bars, her daughters remember the delicious smells filling the house, that there was never a shortage of cakes and shortcakes and shortbreads and breadshorts around the house, and of sometimes eating so much they couldn't move.  They remember how Grandma always remembered what everybody's favorite food was to make on their birthday.  There are too many to list - the waffles, the Spanish rice, the salmon and corn on the cob, the split pea soup - I know Addie and Mollie especially loved that roast beef and crispy potatoes – (Addie Mollie do you want to say anything?), the 5 layer cake, the Scotch shortbread cookies, the strawberry shortcake...am I forgetting anything?

In case I did, there are boxes on the tables here with copies for everybody of four of her favorite recipes: Scotch shortbread, Dutch babies, strawberry shortcake, and of course the infamous Nanaimo bars.  Plus there are photos of her on the back of the cards.

But Grandma was so much more than just a chef - she was an inspiration.  As some of you know, I recently opened up a food truck in New York, and without a doubt she and her cooking were one of the biggest influences for me deciding to do that.  I am actually going to be serving her strawberry shortcake next week in her honor to bring a little bit of her love back to the east coast.

Grandma’s intense connection with food was also a big part of what inspired Sue to make her PBS documentary series The Meaning of Food - and I actually remember being there for a few hours of the filming when I was six or seven and loving the whole atmosphere there so much that I know that was also part of the inspiration for my truck.  I am sure nothing made Grandma happier than seeing her food being at the center of such a long cycle of devotion. Her foods have served several generations so far, and will serve at least a couple more if I have anything to do with it.  

My last memory is of Grandma telling me how during World War II she and a friend brought food every week to their Japanese-Americans classmates who had been put in internment camps.  She had to take a bus for two hours each way to get there, and even after being chased off by soldiers with bayonets, she kept coming back with more food because it was what she knew was right.  That is true strength, and Grandma had it right through the very end.  We should all be proud to have loved her and been loved by her.  She will forever be with us in our stomachs and our hearts.