Eulogy for Missy

I lost my maternal grandmother on June 22.  She lived 87 wonderful years.  I was asked to give the eulogy at her memorial service on Wednesday, July 14, and I really enjoyed reflecting on all of the fun things we did together over the years.  I thought I'd share it here in case anyone is interested in reading a little about my Missy:

Eulogy for Virginia Prince Calvin Hicks

June 15, 1923 - June 22, 2010

I am Katherine Virginia Watson Falzone. I am Virginia's namesake, being named Virginia after my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. I am Virginia's first born grandchild. That is always how she introduced me to new people. She always made it sound like such an accomplishment for me, despite the fact that I had very little to do with being born, or being the first for that matter. However, I held my head a little higher and stood up a little straighter when she said it because it sounded like an important job to be the first born grandchild. And because she was proud to call me that. It was a nice way to be introduced.

I could easily share with you today her extensive resume of accomplishments, from bookselling awards to higher education to service in charitable organizations. But I think I’d rather share a more personal side of her. We all have special stories about Virginia, affectionately known to her grandchildren as Missy. In fact, she had many nicknames. To her friends, she was Virginia, Miss Virginia, or VP, short for Virginia Prince. To her students, she was Teach. To Harold, she was Love. And to her grandchildren, she was Missy.

She lived a very active and productive life, always meeting new people and making new friends wherever she went. She lived in many different places, but mostly stayed in the southern states of Alabama, Georgia, and Tennessee, which she held in very high regard. She loved the rich history and stories of the South. She was a southern girl to her core, and as a young girl growing up in South Georgia, she made me proud to be one as well.

When we were young, we were fortunate to live just a few houses away from her. I remember many afternoons spent at her house having tea parties. She’d invite us over after school and prepare punch, cookies, and other treats and we’d sit around the card table pretending we were grownups just like our Missy. She would just grin at us while we all giggled at each other.

Sometimes she would take us for a ride in her 1984 red Chrysler LeBaron, which she named “Chief”. Claire would always ride on the hump in the middle and I in the passenger seat and we’d all sing together “Here We Go Loop de Loo”. You could bet every dollar you had on where she would take us because every trip was the same. First, we’d go to the post office where she’d pick up her mail and send off the letters she’d written the day before - she was wonderful at keeping up with handwritten correspondence. Second, we’d go to the library. Never failed. Sometimes a trip to the grocery store might be thrown in there, where we’d ride in the cart eating peppermints before we’d paid for them (she could never make it to the register without opening that bag of peppermints), but there was always a stop by the post office and the library.

She loved to read to us, and I remember my favorite book that she would read to me. It was called “A Train for Jane”. I think she was drawn to it because she loved trains, and the book was about a girl who didn’t want to play with the traditional girl toys, but would rather play with trains. As a young girl that would much rather play with Legos, erector sets, or a bat and ball than a Barbie, I appreciated that she understood and felt the same way.

She was an animal lover. As a girl, she loved to ride horses and won many equestrian ribbons and awards. Over the years, she had many pets – a poodle named Rhet Butler, a springer spaniel named Precious, a cat named Thor, and for a short time a lizard named Clarence that she would not allow us to shoo out of her house.

As a family, we shared many meals together. While my grandmother was never known for her cooking, she taught us how to set a beautiful table complete with linens, antique china, crystal, and silver, each piece having a story about its previous owner and how it was passed down to her. She taught us which fork and plate were used for each course. She taught us that when you clear the table, you never stack your dishes. "Now girls, don't stack" she would say. And when the meal was over, you did not say you were "done". She would say, "That sounds like a turkey that just came out of the oven. Say you're "finished" instead.”

Missy and Harold’s marriage was probably one of the greatest blessings our family could receive. She thought he hung the moon, and I’m pretty sure he would have done it for her no matter how difficult the task was. He was a loving, supportive, and dedicated husband to the very end and she absolutely adored him. They brought two wonderful families together the day they married and since then, all of our lives have been enriched through their love for each other. Many of us have said that marrying him was the best decision she ever made. And we all reaped the benefits of that decision by gaining brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

To say that she loved books would be an understatement. It would be more appropriate to say that she lived them. She lived in them, she lived around them, she lived through them, and she lived for them. Her accomplishments in the world of bookselling are numerous. I remember a few years back, I was skimming through a copy of one of my mom's Southern Living magazines when I had to do a double take. That woman looks a lot like Missy. Oh my, it is Missy! There she was, right there in the middle of Southern Living, featured for her excellence in bookselling. No one even told me!

My sister and I spent many afternoons working with Missy and Harold at The Book Shop in downtown Brunswick. Jordan reminded me just last night about how she always called us the “fourth generation Southern women booksellers.” She loved to hunt down an out-of-print book for a customer, especially if they had no luck elsewhere. If no one else could find that book, The Book Shop could. I never realized how much influence being surrounded by all of those books would have on me as an adult. Now I’d rather go into a bookstore than a clothing store. I buy books like most women buy shoes and handbags. I blame her for that, but I love her for that.

Education was extremely important to her, both as a student and a teacher. I always wondered growing up what kind of teacher my grandmother was. Having never been a student of hers, I would wonder, was she the favorite, mean one, the toughest one, the easy A, or the inspiring one that you never forgot? In March of 2007, I got an answer to that question in the form of an email that Harold forwarded to me from one of her previous students at the Bartram School for Girls. I made sure to save it because it is so special. I would like to share an excerpt with you now because there really is no better way to say it than this woman did.

Dearest Mrs. Hobson,

I have to tell you how happy I was to hear your voice. You, without knowing it, have been such a tremendous influence on my life, my career, how I think, and who I have become. Because of you, I have been published, had my own editorial column on the front page of the city newspaper, and am now writing and creating the storylines for a nationally syndicated television series. You believed in us. You told us that we were your girls and that we could do anything. You shared your love of knowledge and books and reading the classics and inspired “your girls” to “dream big”.

I don’t know if you remember this about me, but I lost my mom when I was nine years old. My father remarried to a woman who resented me very much simply for being in the way; and therefore was not very kind to me at all. These were the circumstances that led up to me sending myself away to (Bartram) boarding school to get away from her. Long story short, I didn’t really have any positive female role models in my life that I could look up to and/or trust. You were that person for me. You instilled in me the ability to look beyond my circumstances and believe in myself. You made me feel smart. Creative. Insightful. That was the beginning of the path that led me to where I am today. I went on to college and pursued a pre-law curriculum with a double major in Political Science and English Lit.

In my junior year, at the insistence of my step-monster, my dad pulled me out of school. I did not go back; I did not become a lawyer. Probably a good thing. But I did resolve to be a successful writer. I now make a respectable living doing what I love. Writing. I write the storylines for a nationally syndicated women’s lifestyle program. Thank you!

I’ve often wondered how you were doing and where life has led you. When I came across your name on the internet, I just couldn’t help myself. I had to see if that was “my Mrs. Hobson”. I hope now that I’ve found you again, that you won’t mind if I keep in touch with you every now and then to see how you are. It’s not often that somebody touches your life the same way that you have touched mine, so I feel it would be a shame to lose that connection. You have made such a difference in the life of that little scared girl that sat quietly in your classroom, so I wanted to make sure to say thank you. You touched my life in a way that really mattered. I guess that’s a huge part of why people go into teaching.

Please keep in touch when you can. I will too. And you take care of yourself, ok?

That’s just one example of the kind of person my Missy was. She was passionate and charming, and it was contagious. She loved and adored her family and friends. We all have great memories of her life here with us, and she’ll continue to live on through those memories for many years to come. In my mind, I like to think that she’s driving around heaven right now in Chief, singing “Here We Go Loop de Loo” while eating peppermints. She’s on her way to the post office and the library, then maybe a tea party, and is probably in the process of opening a book store, only there, in her heaven, the books never go out of print.