As painful as it was to bid my mom goodbye, I was truly blessed this week to reunite with several members of my extended family and several friends. If any of you would like to know more about the person we came to honor, here is the eulogy that I wrote for my mom: Virginia Dunn Neuenschwander was born on August 8, 1920, in Pelican Rapids Minnesota. She was the one and only child of Anna Laura Goodman and Roy Emery Dunn. Her mother was an elegant woman with a beautiful voice and keen wit. Her father was an entrepreneur who gradually converted his family’s farm on Lake Lizzie into a popular summer resort. Thus, her childhood included many hours of boating, swimming, tennis, horseback riding, and sledding runs down a huge wooden chute that sent you flying into the lake. But her childhood wasnt only fun and games. Since Her mother had contracted smallpox during pregnancy,mom was born with large sores all over her body. One of them made her deaf in the right ear. Another one made her blind in the right eye. This led to several painful surgeries—five of them in five years—but even then, her sight and vision would always be impaired. Fortunately, Mom’s spirit was not impaired. Much like grandpa Dunn, whom she dearly loved, she was fun-loving and optimistic and determined to overcome. When mom was only nine, Grandpa used that resilient spirit to win election as a state representative from Otter Tail County, and he held that seat for 40 years. This meant that mom grew up in two places, Lake Lizzie, her beloved home place, and Saint Paul, where the state legislature met for several months each winter. Thus, mom had to meet the standards of two very different school systems, and she always went back to Lake Lizzie feeling very much behind. Nonetheless, mom loved living in Saint Paul—especially during her high school years, when she played the clarinet in her school’s band. This was the big band era of swing music, and the kids who played those instruments were thought to be very “cool cats.” Thus, she had an active social life, and many close friends. But mom wasn’t just a social butterfly. As Hitler rose to power in Europe and the great depression ground on at home, mom longed to find deeper meaning in the world around her. This eventually led her out of the Congregational church that her father’s family founded into the Roman Catholic church, where her beloved cousin Frank Goodman had recently been ordained. Buoyed by this new faith, mom attended a Catholic college, where she studied Chemistry before meeting a dashing young medical student named Harold Neuenschwander (though everyone called him Bud). Bud was smitten right away, but mom was not so quickly sold. Thus, she said, “if you are really serious about a relationship with me, then you must write me every day during the summer while we are apart.” A lot of guys would have said, “forget it,” but dad took that as a challenge, and a genuine romance began to bloom when class resumed. Their marriage was stalled by dads first deployment during World War II, but they gladly tied the not when he returned from the Aleutian Islands in 1943. This was followed by a much more temperate deployment—Honolulu—where mom soon joined dad in the service of wounded soldiers and allied POWs at Trippler General Hospital in Oahu. Mom and dad loved Oahu, they made several new friends there, and they probably would have stayed there forever except you couldn’t buy land in Hawaii during the late 1940s. Having grown up on a farm, dad just couldn’t stomach that—he had to own some land—so they moved back to the mainland seeking property they could purchase outside the snow belt. It had to be near a major university so huskies could go to college and also near a medical clinic where duties could be shared—so dad wouldn’t be on call every single night. As it turned out, all three criterion were met in Knoxville, so they moved here to this city after dad completed a residency in 1949. By the time they moved here to Knoxville, mom already had three kids, with another one on the way. Mom once asked dad how many he wanted. He said twelve. She thought he was kidding! I guess they compromised at seven, and that’s a good thing for me, because I am the last pup from that litter. I remember mom and dad having a very traditional marriage. Dad was the disciplinarian who got us up for chores each day—even in the summer months—while mom was the source of love and grace. Dad taught us how to grow vegetables, dad taught us how tend a lawn, and dad taught us to maintain everything--mowers, cars, tools, even plumbing in the house. Mom taught us how to cook and clean. Being blind in one eye from birth, she was very particular with windows—they had to be cleaned just right. But she wasn’t all that particular with anything else. Instead, she saw herself as an encourager, and she always took time to listen whenever I chose to speak. She looked for the best in others, and she often brought out the best in them, correcting my youthful indiscretions with phrases like, “you’re better than that. You’re not lazy. You’re not dumb. I know that isn’t you.” Having raised two kids myself now, I really marvel at the gentleness and effectiveness of that technique. When they weren’t busy taking care of us or earning money to keep us fed, mom and dad loved to dance, and they often danced to swing music of the Jerry Collins orchestra at Cherokee Country Club, usually with their dear friends, Norma and Al Holmes. Mom and dad’s marriage got even stronger after attending a Marriage Encounter. They spoke highly of it to their children, and a number of those children eventually took their spouses there. Since mom and dad had a good marriage with clearly established roles, all of us worried about mom when dad died suddenly in 1984. How would she handle money? How would she keep things fixed? But the resilience she learned in childhood came to the fore again, and mom inspired us. First, she learned how to invest her money and live on the results with the help of TV gurus and a certified financial planner—Allan, who once said mom was his toughest client. Second, she sold the old family house, moving to a much newer condo that didn’t need a lot of maintenance. Third, she left home frequently, spending lots of time watching sports, playing bridge, celebrating with family, or socializing with friends. Finally, she took great care of her health for many years, watching her diet carefully, doing calisthenics every morning, then walking briskly through the neighborhood or the mall. She didn’t even want to think about decline. That’s why this day is bittersweet. We know mom has been released from a body that was seriously in decline, but we miss her. We miss her dearly. And we always will. Fortunately, mom taught us to depend not only on our planning or our parents or our personal resolve. Mom taught us to depend on God. At this point, our family is scattered across at least four denominations, but all of us worship God, and all of us follow the God who said. “my peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. Not peace as the world gives. In this world, you will tribulation. But do not fear, for I have overcome the world.” Mom knew that peace. Mom used that peace to overcome many heartaches. And mom did her very best to share God’s peace with us. We are grateful for those efforts. That’s why it is with peace that we can release her to God’s care.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 04:22:09 +0000
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