It’s tough to see so many longtime local residents pass away, such as Vondean Thompson and Daniel Boone, both of whom witnessed so much local history as it unfolded and even participated in making it.
I remember when Centralia voters switched the city’s form of government from a commission to a council, and Vondean, who died at 79, was among the first councilors elected. She was always such a beautiful, gracious lady.
Dan, 92, a lifelong resident of Toledo, regaled us with stories of a long-gone era when we met him at the Lewis County Courthouse a few years ago.
A year ago, Carol Wood, a museum volunteer who died in December, gave me an envelope containing information about an Ethel native, Margaret Elva Olson Padgett Extine Wallace, who had attended Onalaska schools and graduated from business college in Seattle. She also had a lot of local history in her memory, having worked at Onalaska’s Carlisle Lumber Co., Onalaska Grade School, Nelson’s Grocery in Ethel, and the Puget Sound Navy Yard.
Margaret died March 18, 2016, just nine months shy of her 100th birthday. She had been living in Eagle, Idaho, to be near family. In honor of what would have been her 100th birthday, Margaret’s daughter, Linda (Padgett) Weston, and her granddaughters, Kristine Gordon and Paula Boyd, mailed friends and family an envelope containing a biography, photos, and memories of Margaret. She also had a son, John Padgett, in Seattle.
Gordon’s recollections included “parking under the Yard Bird and hearing him talk,” “crazy games of scrabble,” “frugality learned from the Depression,” and “Christmas snowflakes” crocheted for trees. Margaret also created soft, safe “hugga bears” for babies.
“For years Granny was really looking forward to turning 100, but as her body aged, she decided to rethink that thought,” wrote Boyd. She recalled her grandmother’s famous culinary concoctions—chocolate sauce for vanilla ice cream, chocolate pie, popovers for breakfast, bran muffins, and fresh homemade applesauce.
“She liked Scope mouthwash, and any other brand would not do,” Boyd wrote. “Although she was cheap, this was not an area to skimp on.”
Her favorite sayings included “In time this too shall pass,” “I don’t want to be a bother or a pain,” and “getting old ain’t for sissies.”
As I read through the papers and looked at the photos, I thought what a nice way to memorialize a loved one after the pain of the loss had faded a bit.
On Saturday I attended a service in the same Vancouver-area church where my mother’s funeral Mass took place in 2007. A decade ago, I found myself frustrated that her regular church, where she had attended more than 30 years, couldn’t fit in the funeral because of All Saints Day and other commitments. The priest, who had never met her, repeatedly referred to her during the service as “Norma” rather than “Nora.”
But the worst debacle occurred at the Catholic cemetery, where Mom had purchased a plot and headstone after my father’s death in 1998. Although he was cremated, Dad wanted his ashes buried with Mom. But when we arrived at the cemetery, we discovered a hole dug several plots away from where the headstone had been sitting for nearly a decade. The priest blessed the hole, and then the headstone, as we tried to figure out where to bury the coffin. Eventually, they put it in the hole and moved the headstone.
My dad would have laughed uproariously. My mother would have been angry, although she might have chuckled later.
I also thought of my father-in-law’s funeral. Like Margaret, he had nearly lived a century, passing away just 10 months before his 100th birthday. During the service in a Bellingham area funeral home, the pastor, who suffered from a bad back, suddenly grew lightheaded. He needed to lie on the floor while my husband’s brother finished the service.
My father-in-law loved life, fought death, and was never much of a church-goer. As we walked toward the gravesite, one of my husband’s classmates whispered to us.
“Just like your dad — giving preachers a hard time to the very end.”
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Julie McDonald, a personal historian from Toledo, may be reached at memoirs@chaptersoflife.com.
