Louise Espy, my uncle Willard’s wife, outlived him by twelve years. She died last November in New York not far from where she had been born and had lived for most of her ninety-two years, Her children, Johnny and Penny, kept us informed about her memorial service which was held at the prestigious Century Association and Penny, a teacher, said that in the summer she would bring Louise’s ashes to Oysterville for burial in the family plot.
And now it’s almost summer. Plans are being made for early August and, as it looks now, there will be a simple graveside service followed by a reception here at the house. Since Penny was not really involved with the Oysterville side of Louise’s life, I’ve offered to make all of the necessary arrangements.
I woke up thinking about who will come and how to let them know. When my father died at age 82, he was still a vital member of the community. Friends and colleagues and relatives crowded the Oysterville Church and overflowed out into the churchyard to listen to the service over the PA system.
By the time my mother died seventeen years later at the venerable age of ninety-seven, she had been out of the limelight for a number of years and had outlived most of her friends. The church was not quite full even though, in comparison to dad, she had been the ‘people person’ and the ‘social butterfly.’
The problem is compounded a bit with Louise. Although she and Willard spent months at a time over a twenty year period in their Red Cottage in Oysterville, they weren’t full-timers. And, although Louise continued to visit Oysterville as long as she was able after Willard’s death, her circle of friends had diminished considerably by her last visit in 2008.
So… how to properly honor Louise and provide a warm reception for Penny? I know some of the folks who might like to come and I will contact them directly. But for the others whose lives Louise touched over the years, I shall rely on the age-old standard way of announcing an event – the newspaper. And, of course, by our ever-reliable “Peninsula Telegraph,” word-of-mouth.
To paraphrase my shirttail cousin, Father Tom Williams: “It’s the least we can do; it’s the most we can do; it’s all we can do.”
My cousin lived on the Peninsula for more than 40 years, but because she’d been sick for a long time and out of the public eye the “showing” at her memorial was quite disappointing so I know how you feel. It did not help that it was one of the nastiest days of December. I hope you are able to field a decent showing for the sake of Louise’s children.