This Eulogy was written by my grandmother, Kathleen Seable.
Eulogy For Mom
On Her 85th Birthday April 7, 2011
When I was thirteen years old, my mother turned thirty. I put a banner on the garage door proclaiming “Happy Birthday 30 Years!” I teased my mother by saying she was now “over the hill.” (So much for the perspective of a thirteen year-old.) I took having a very youthful and beautiful mother for granted. She had thick, dark, wavy hair and large brown eyes accented with long dark lashes. One day my mother visited my fifth grade classroom. The boy sitting behind me whispered, “Wow, is that your mother?” I nodded, “Yes, she is.” Moving his eyebrows up and down he observed, “She is a good-looker!” I definitely felt that this comment gave me additional prestige.
My mother Maurine Ingham DeVado was born April 7, 1926 in Salt Lake City Utah. When she was two years old her family moved to Albany, California in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her mother and her step father eventually owned a pharmacy on Solano Ave. in Albany. When mother was only sixteen years old she eloped with my nineteen year old father Raymond Bernard Perona to Reno, Nevada, and they were married in the Catholic church there. Afterwards, rather than return to her alma mater Albany high school, she attended a continuation school in Oakland and got her diploma in a two months by studying hard and passing tests that satisfied the requirements for graduation. By the time she was seventeen she was a teen-age mother. She never knew her biological father Armand DeVado, a charming dance studio instructor from Managua, Nicaragua, because she was a baby when her parents divorced, and he had no more contact with the family. She actually found out years later while doing some genealogical research that his real name was Francisco Alvarado and that he had used a half-brother's name when he married my grandmother Alta Ingham.
Though young, my mother was very intelligent and wise beyond her years. I have only one early memory of doubting her maturity. I was four years old, and we were on vacation visiting some of the canyons in southern Utah and Northern Arizona. At one point, there was a rocky, thin ledge that extended out from the landing where we were taking in the sites. My father decided to demonstrate his bravery by climbing out on the narrow ledge to peer down into the cavernous canyon. My mother saw this as foolish and risky bravado rather than manly courage so she begged him not to do it. When he laughingly ignored her pleas, she threatened not to speak to him again. After we were all safely back in the car my father tried to jolly my mother out of her stoney silence. For a long time, she would not be moved. I also thought that my father had done a dangerous thing; but since he appeared so good natured about the whole incident, I felt that it was my mother who was making a mountain out of a mole hill and was behaving quite childishly. When they eventually kissed and made up, I was quite relieved.
I was nine months old when my father was sent overseas during WWII, and mother went to work for Shell Development. My great aunt Pearl Taylor moved in with us on 1411 Henry Street, Berkeley, California and cared for me while mother was at work. When my father returned over two years later, my parents invited Aunt Pearl to stay with them permanently as she was widowed and did not have a home of her own. Aunt Pearl was always an important part of our family until she passed away three months after I married. Growing up with her in our home seemed natural, and I didn't fully realize what a kind and generous offer it was for my parents to include her until I was married and considered the extra complication and lack of privacy it would be to have another adult living in the house.
My mother was kind and fair minded and loving. I never doubted her full devotion to us for she always put family first. She was smart, well-organized and creative. I had complete confidence that she could handle any situation and handle it well. We lived in Berkeley until I was seven years old. I was an only child until the age of five when my sister Sheri was born in 1948. I have happy memories of my early childhood as I was surrounded by adoring and loving adults, my grandparents on both sides and my parents and Aunt Pearl. I was a restless and adventurous child, and my mother gave me lots of leeway. She let me have high top Keds boy shoes that I begged for even though, at that time, it may have been a stigma on the appropriateness of her mothering. I knew that I could leap tall buildings in a single bound with those shoes and scramble up trees with ease. She let me have a Texas Long Horn cap gun for my birthday, and I could play on my own around the neighborhood as long as I could hear the sound of the whistle she would blow to indicate it was time to come in for dinner.
Mother instilled a sense of confidence in me. Occasionally we would eat as a family at a small restaurant a block or so from our home. One day when I was five or six, I asked mother if I could go by myself for lunch at the restaurant. She agreed, and I remember being proud as punch walking there on my own and ordering a meal from the menu. Of course, years later I found out that she had called the proprietors ahead of time alerting them to my arrival.
I learned a very important lesson from my mother while I was attending Whittier Elementary School in Berkeley. I was in first or second grade and one day another student in my class said in a cruel, cutting way that she didn't like me. I was heartbroken. I wondered what was wrong with me. When I got home from school, I told my mother what had happened, and she empathized with my pain. After comforting me she said, “You know, honey, it doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong with you if someone says something mean to you. Maybe they are not having a good day or someone has been mean to them.” I remember this incident so clearly. It was if a light bulb went on in my little head. Rather than feeling like a deficient victim, I suddenly felt concern and compassion for the perpetrator. This little insight served as a useful tool throughout my life, and I have my wise mother to thank for it.
Every week I attended Primary at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the Berkeley Ward chapel on the corner of Walnut and Vine. Mother would take me and pick me up. She was a baptized member but was not a consistent attender. My father was Catholic and sometimes I would go with him to Mass. Most of the time, however, I attended the LDS Church with my Aunt Pearl and, eventually, my mother. One time when mother took me to Primary, the teacher, at the last minute, had not been able to come so someone asked my mother if she would be willing to teach the class. She agreed to do so and after that she ended up regularly teaching Primary and attending church on Sundays.
During the summer of 1950 we moved from Berkeley to 1873 Helen Rd. in Pleasant Hill on the east side of the Berkeley hills in the Diablo Valley. My parents were able to purchase a three bedroom one bath home on a large lot for nine thousand dollars. By now my sister Sherilyn Dianne had joined the family. My mother had difficult pregnancies and was nauseous and could not hold food down for the whole nine months. Consequently, babies came about five years apart except for Marcia and Cliff. They broke the record at two years difference in age. Under the circumstances, most women probably would have stopped at one pregnancy, possibly two. But my mother pressed on and endured six such pregnancies because of her faith in the importance of child bearing in the Lord's plan of happiness. I and my five siblings are very grateful for her sacrifice.
When my mother became converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ she put her hand to the plow and did not look back. By the time I was nine, my father listened to the LDS missionaries and received a spiritual testimony of the truth of their message and was baptized. Clifford Leon was born when I was ten. At that time we were able to go to the Salt Lake Temple and be sealed as an eternal family. Both my parents were faithful and obedient servants in the Lord's work. When they would read or hear some counsel from the Brethren, like Abraham, they would go out that “selfsame day” and apply the counsel. I learned first hand from my parents to have faith in God and to love Him with all your heart, might, mind and strength; to keep the commandments and listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and obey. I observed from their lives that things might be rough for a time, but eventually all would work out for your best good. This gave me courage to apply these principles in my own life.
As young marrieds, my parents made life-long friends while serving in the church. Even though I was a child, I loved to observe the adults that often came to our home, and I wanted to join in their lively conversations. Once I embarrassed myself by bantering in a too familiar way with the adults, and my mother had to explain to me privately that it might appear disrespectful for a child to talk in that manner to an adult. They served in many and various callings, put on community musicals, held bazaars and many other fund raisers, and built chapels. I have seen the love and appreciation their friends have had for each other through the years, and the few who are left still keep in touch. At one time my mother had three ward callings and two stake callings. The church was growing in the suburbs, and my parents were some of the early pioneers in the Walnut Creek and Pleasant Hill areas. I saw my mother faithfully fulfill everything she was ever asked to do. During this busy time, she also went through four more pregnancies; Clifford Leon, Marcia Renee, Clarissa Raone and Laurine DeRae were welcomed into the family. I remember my mother filling our car with children to take them to Primary when she was Primary president. A vivid image in my mind was when she had to pull to the side of the road and jump out of the car quickly to vomit because of pregnancy nausea. In later life, my mother taught early morning Seminary for many years. I saw her love and concern for the youth. She was not a morning person, but she would arise at four in the morning to be prepared for her classes. She has touched many people's lives for good.
My mother had many gifts and talents. One is the ability to verbalize and express ideas and insights. As I was growing up, I loved to bounce ideas off her and discuss gospel principles and applications. Sometimes, when I was a teenager, I would play devil's advocate just to find out what she would say. This would give me ideas how to respond if someone approached me with the same challenges. If I would ever kick against the family standards, she would direct me to “take it up with the Lord. See what He wants you to do.” Sometimes I arrogantly retorted, “Yeah, and if I come up with different inspiration from you, who is going to be right?” However, often to my chagrin, when I was willing to sincerely ask the Lord, I would be inspired to obey my parents. And, even more importantly, I learned to trust the Lord and personally experience how much He loved me.
Sometimes, as a teenager, I felt that my mother would never admit that she was wrong. (I discovered later that this was partly because she so seldom was wrong.) Once we had an argument over an issue I don't even remember now. I challenged her on some point, and she denied it. Later she came to me and admitted that she had not been completely honest in her response. Inwardly, I was flabbergasted. She was willing to give me the ammunition needed to build up my private arsenal in the teenager versus parents war! Oddly enough, the effect was just the opposite. My admiration of and trust in my mother rose several notches that day.
I felt I could talk to my mother about any subject. When I was only seven years old, I had some specific questions about procreation. I had overheard an older neighbor boy talking about such things in a crude manner. When I had asked my third grade teacher what a certain word meant she had brusquely sent me back to my desk without an explanation. Having no satisfaction from academia, I went to my mother. She explained things to me in a kind way and told me there were certain words I should not use when referring to this special and loving relationship between a man and a woman. She made it seem so matter-of-fact that I felt emboldened to ask her if I could watch the next time she and dad were intimate so I could see what it was like. She carefully explained that that would not be appropriate. As I look back I realize how well she handled the situation for I never felt ashamed or embarrassed about asking her my questions, and I went away realizing that this was something special that should be treated with respect and delicacy.
Another talent my mother had was her culinary creativity. She could take a few left overs and make a gourmet masterpiece. I always looked forward to dinner at our house. When mother would bring dishes to ward functions people would ask for her recipes. The reality was she often just threw together creations on the spot and did not have an exact recipe to hand down. Mother could also throw together wonderfully innovative Halloween costumes. Once I was a bug in a rug, and another time I was a hit at a schoolmate's Halloween party as the missing link.
A few times, at Sheri's request, mother let us put on circuses in our backyard and invite our neighborhood friends to attend. She was willing to supply goodies and some ideas for the shows. For example, she helped us put together an incredible shrinking machine out of a large cardboard box. I would pose as a shoe salesman touting a marvelous machine which could shrink shoes to the proper size if they were too big. Sheri was a distraught customer who, hiding from a spouse, would enter the box for concealment. After some shaking and strange noises, Marcia, five years younger than she and with similar dark hair and eyes, would run out the other end of the box with the same clothes hanging off her smaller body. It was always good for a laugh.
Although my mother was not one to frequently crack jokes, she had a cute sense of humor. She had me in stitches one time when she pantomimed a Spike Jones rendition of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” while she was doing some housework. Also, I will never forget the time when she started giggling during family prayer. We traditionally would kneel by our chairs around the table just before eating dinner to have family prayer. The delicious smell of the food would inspire us children to say short prayers when it was our turn. Once the younger children were not settling into appropriate reverence, and my father said in irritation, “We will not pray until everyone is ready even if we have to kneel here all night! As everyone began to quiet down I could hear my mother trying to choke back laughter. I peeked over at her, and I could see her bobbing up and down. Of course, this set me off, too, and I struggled to maintain appropriate reverence. I couldn't believe my mother was having to repress laughter and that made it even harder for me to control myself. I peeked again and saw my father glaring in disbelief and that made restraint even more difficult. Somehow we finally made it through this trial, and later I asked my mother what on earth had she been thinking. She replied with an embarrassed grin, “I don't know what happened to me. When dad gave the ultimatum, suddenly in my mind I saw all of us stuck on our knees, salivating puddles and never being able to eat dinner.”
Mother taught us to be considerate of other people's feelings. If I thought a Sunday school teacher was boring, she would encourage me to support the teacher and participate in class. We were instructed to dress modestly so we would not be a stumbling block to the virtuous thoughts of another. If I got upset because by younger brother scratched a record in my special classical music collection, she would remind me that “people are more important than things.” If someone would backbite against us, she would encourage us to turn the other cheek. When one of my young children picked most of the unripe fruit off the plum tree in her back yard, she did not get upset.
Mother was willing to pick up new skills along the way. When I was growing up she did not do much sewing. However, after I was married she decided to apply herself to becoming a seamstress and began sewing clothes for the children who still lived at home and for new grandchildren coming along. She even progressed to the point that she was able to sew my sister Clarissa's wedding dress. And, she was willing to let several of my girls at different times come over to her house once a week after school for sewing lessons with grandma.
My mother never had a college education or degree, but it seemed as if she did. She was always interested in everything, and she read a lot of articles. She attended BYU Education Week classes every year and appeared to know something about almost every subject. I remember after my first year of college coming home and sharing some things I had learned, and she was able to comment on each topic. I remember thinking, “Will I ever know more than my mother?”
Mother's intelligence and leadership qualities served her well as a homemaker, in her church callings and in her interaction with people in the community. One time she and others were concerned about the quality of public education. She became head of a committee to lobby for a back-to-basics school in the Mount Diablo Unified School District. Through her tireless efforts and those of others the Sequoia Elementary and Middle Schools came into existence. There was much opposition and red tape, but she persevered and helped convince the school board that this was a viable plan. In the beginning, enthusiastic parents, including us, camped for a couple of days in line at the school in order to get our children enrolled on a first-come basis. The news media covered the event. In later years, a lottery was used instead to avoid the drama and the publicity of parents camping out for days in order to improve the chances of their children receiving a better education in the district.
Mother has always been a good sport about participating in family activities even when it has been inconvenient or uncomfortable. I will always have fond memories of our many camping experiences at Lake Tahoe at D.L. Bliss State Park. When we first started going there we did not even have a tent. Dad would string up some tarps between trees for a little privacy. We were so excited when we were able to buy our first tent. My mother would tough out these yearly camp outs even if she were pregnant or had new babies. My parents never owned an RV, but they would always willingly come to family camp outs even into their later senior years. After all of us children were married and had children of our own, they would not only pack their car with all their gear and supplies, but would always bring extra just in case anyone else might need something.
Our most recent family reunion was at Rucker Lake Girls' Camp where we stayed in unheated cabins. We shared an “ice box” cabin with my eighty-four year old mother. We wrapped mother up like a cocoon in order to keep her warm on her cot. With a weakened heart, it is challenging for her to keep warm even under the best of conditions. One night I was awakened by a muffled noise. I listened, but heard no other sound. Just to be sure, I got out of my sleeping bag to check on mother. There she was on the ground still wrapped in her bag with all her blankets. I leaned over and saw that she was awake. “Mom are you all right? I asked. “Yes,” she replied. “Why didn't you call out for help? I queried in disbelief. She explained, “I didn't want to disturb anyone.” How long would she have stayed on the ground without asking for help? Knowing my mother, probably all night. Mother always wants to be the giver, but never the receiver. We have a joke in the family that rather than trouble anyone mother would just drink from the hose.
I have many happy memories of mother's spontaneity. We would have such fun family parties. We lived only about ten minutes away from my parents' home while raising our family. Nevertheless, when our children were little, we would come over for a Christmas or Thanksgiving celebration and often end up staying a few days. We would visit, eat, play games and sleep on the floor and couches to arise the next morning to continue the festivities. One time we took my mother and mother-in-law on a drive with us to a lake in the mountains. They did not have their swim suits with them. However, the water looked so inviting that they both decided to jump in with their dresses on. It was hilarious seeing them laughing in the water with their dresses billowing around them. My mother was such a fun traveling companion. One time we convinced her to come with us on a two week road trip. We had two young children at the time. She was a terrific sport and delighted in every adventure as we traipsed through California, Oregon, Idaho and Wyoming.
There were some challenges during my mother's childhood. She never knew her father; her mother was not active in the Church; when she was only seven years old she witnessed the accidental death of her beloved maternal grandmother who took care of her while her mother worked; her step father Wendell Olson was not very kind to her; she also married at a young age and was a seventeen year old mother. However, all of these things that might have been stumbling blocks she made into stepping stones. Her step father was unfaithful to her mother, and, after gambling away the equity in their home, ran off with another woman. Yet, in later years, I saw my mother contact her step father and keep track of him. When all others had left him in poor health and poor finances, she took him into her home and took care of him until he passed away two years later.
As a matter of fact, throughout the years, my parents have allowed many people to live in their home. Married children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and acquaintances in need have moved in from time to time. My parents often opened their home to others, and mother continued to do so after my father passed away in September 2000 during a family camp out. Mother always has had her refrigerator and freezer stocked full of food so she would be prepared to feed visitors or co-inhabitants. Mother has consistently been generous to a fault with her means and her time.
After my grandmother Alta had a stroke, my mother cared for her until mother suffered a heart attack. Other family members took turns caring for grandma Alta while mother struggled to manage her own health. Eventually, she had triple by-pass heart surgery. Despite these health issues, my mother served a stake mission with my father, and they were able to fellowship and reactivate members and introduce the gospel to non-members. Mother has also spent many years helping people with their family history work.
Because of these health challenges and others, we all assumed we would probably lose mother before we did father. However, he passed away first. We doubted she would last much longer after his death, but we have been pleasantly surprised so see her still persevering and still serving family and church eleven years later. She seems to be able to accomplish anything she puts her mind to.
She laments that she is gradually losing her memory and mental faculties, but this just seems to put her on a more equal footing with the rest of us.
Probably one explanation for mothers endurance is that she has practiced self-discipline and good nutrition. Since her heart surgery, she has faithfully driven herself to the YMCA several times a week to do water exercises and to swim. She has done a lot of reading about nutrition and has passed on her wealth of knowledge about healthy foods, supplements and vitamins to the rest of us. She is always interested in new studies and information coming out.
I have learned many things from my mother. I have learned about unconditional love. My mother encouraged us to set high standards, but I always knew that she would love me whether or not I rose to those standards. I have learned about unselfish service; faithfulness to covenants with the Lord; going the second mile; always being willing to work in the kingdom and magnifying each church calling; faithfully paying tithes and offerings and attending the temple; leaving things better than you find them; enjoying learning; being honest and trustworthy; being thorough; multitasking with a flare; taking time to share thoughts and feelings; being in the right places at the right time; forgiveness; loyalty; perseverance; being willing to move out of your comfort zone in order to serve others; modesty; being in the world but not of the world; knowing how to have fun without regrets; knowing how to value family and friends.
My mother has not only been a wonderful mother, but she has been a good friend. As a young mother myself, I would call and talk to her on a daily basis. I feel that she understands me and loves me. I know she would do anything that I asked of her so I am very careful not to ask for much. I feel that I know her. I know her strengths, and I know her weaknesses. And I love her. She has a special relationship with each of her children. I am sure that each feel we are a favorite, yet I know she loves us all the same.
My mother, along with my father, has been the loving force which has pulled us all together throughout the years. The family prayers, the family home evenings, the scripture study, the family activities and the constant support and caring have had their affect. After we were all married, mother still saw that we got together often for family firesides, family birthdays, and all holidays and special events. I know it has been difficult for her to accept her limitations as she has reached advanced years. When you have been the hub for so long, it is difficult to let others shoulder the wheel. She has left a large posterity who are active in the Church and who are good citizens of the nation. I know sometimes she doubts that she has done enough in her life to serve the Savior, but I feel this is a result of her failing memory. However, we remember all she has done, and I am convinced that she will some day hear those tender words, “Well done thou good and faithful servant. Enter into my glory.”
