She was a lover of jazz
A lover of life
A lover of all souls
I can say a life well lived
If learning half of what she knows
Simple, you say
Love without judging
Wisdom without pride
Knowledge without a cynic’s bann
A life without bitterness
Strife
Or
Regret
A kind word ready
A simple meal done
A keen word spoken
The door to the Yellow House
Is always
Open……
– Susan Chapman Plumb
In Memorium
Hazel Poston Panter
1913-2014
Our little hand has strolled along a pleasant way together. We have been learning as we strolled. But we have had time to listen to the singing of the birds, to pluck a flower here and there, to loiter a little with jest and banter and sing—
Oh! yes, there were sorrows sometimes, but there were cheering words to make us forget them. And we have been wandering along in this careless, happy way so many years that we had almost forgotten the forking of the road, that it did not run clear through.
Today we have reached a dell where the road stops. The scenery appears strange and there is no way to go on ever by little narrow footpath that wind over the hills and up the valleys, some bright, some dark, but all lonely so far as we can see. And each must take his path alone and push on his own journey till death sooner or later overtakes each traveler.
… We want to carry sunshine over into the big world.
— Hazel Panter, Emory High Valedictorian, Class of ‘31
When we got the text last Thursday that Grandma’s health had taken a bad turn, Sam and I were at a YWCA benefit luncheon. My eyes flinched away when I glimpsed the first line of text — I didn’t want to see any more of it, didn’t want to sit with that knowledge that it was nearing her time.
After, sitting in the huge convention hall, everything that was said on stage filtered down to me through the frame of thinking on Grandma and praying for her peace. The theme of the lunch was empowering women, and all that the Y had done in its last 100 years or so of improving the status of women in our country. With every landmark the speaker listed in the Y’s history and the women’s movement, I thought of Grandma’s remarkable life and how she had lived through each of those big moments, of how interwoven her experiences were with the forces shaping the way things are for women today, for me today.
The speaker recalled organizing the YWCA did leading up to women getting the vote in 1920 — on August 26, a few days before Grandma’s 7th birthday. I fondly thought of Grandma, ever the proud democrat, reporting to Marianna in 2008 how thrilled she was to have lived long enough to vote for a woman in a presidential primary election, and now to have voted for an African American. This fall she was looking forward to voting for Wendy Davis for Texas governor — in her politics as in most things, I am a woman after her own heart.
Then a speaker recollected women’s transition into the workforce—remembering his mother and her work at the Boeing fighter jet manufacturer during WWII while all the men were away fighting in Europe, and how even after men returned to the factory she remained the most industrious and productive of her coworkers; I reflected on Grandma’s tireless work ethic —I imagined her during those years my dad was in high school— working at Delroy’s grocery and now widowed, saving money to help put her last child through Baylor. Between raising Betty Gail, Marianna, Don and Dad, working at the store, teaching Sunday school, (and we all know how clean she kept that house) I am sure she didn’t sit down once between 1935 and 1985.
Even as the speaker recounted the wilder days of the 1970s feminist movement, I thought of Hazel—leading her own quieter campaign, disrupting things at First Baptist Alba by being the first woman to teach men in her Sunday school class along with women. She remains a revolutionary in my mind — for her uniqueness, for her integrity, for the fortitude with which she held her ideals about her identity as a lifelong student, a Christian woman, mother, our matriarch. There is no one like her.
I keep saying to people: 101 years — There is much more to celebrate than to be sad about. And that is the truth. But we are sad. Sad that for the first time in 60 years, Hazel Laverne Panter doesn’t live in the yellow house on Holley Street. Sad that for the first time ever, in any of our lives, we don’t share the earth with her spectacular being. Isn’t that remarkable? That not one of us have lived one single day on earth that Grandma wasn’t with us, praying for our individual healths, happinesses, our paths in life? Her absence is a shift that will take some getting used to. How do we adjust?—and more challengingly—how do we honor and live up to the standards she set for us? I imagine each of us taking up the grace, the massive Grace, she joyfully carried upon her shoulders, only in dividing it among us are we collectively strong enough to carry her mighty legacy.
I found these words from her in a note today and they are invigorating parting advice for us, now on that journey of living to her tribute: “You are in a right place and right time to see the world — and it’s a right time to make a difference in the world. So get busy and stay busy! We live highly expectant!”
She was a lover of jazz
A lover of life
A lover of all souls
I can say a life well lived
If learning half of what she knows
Simple, you say
Love without judging
Wisdom without pride
Knowledge without a cynic’s bann
A life without bitterness
Strife
Or
Regret
A kind word ready
A simple meal done
A keen word spoken
The door to the Yellow House
Is always
Open……
– Susan Chapman Plumb
In Memorium
Hazel Poston Panter
1913-2014
Our little hand has strolled along a pleasant way together. We have been learning as we strolled. But we have had time to listen to the singing of the birds, to pluck a flower here and there, to loiter a little with jest and banter and sing—
Oh! yes, there were sorrows sometimes, but there were cheering words to make us forget them. And we have been wandering along in this careless, happy way so many years that we had almost forgotten the forking of the road, that it did not run clear through.
Today we have reached a dell where the road stops. The scenery appears strange and there is no way to go on ever by little narrow footpath that wind over the hills and up the valleys, some bright, some dark, but all lonely so far as we can see. And each must take his path alone and push on his own journey till death sooner or later overtakes each traveler.
… We want to carry sunshine over into the big world.
— Hazel Panter, Emory High Valedictorian, Class of ‘31
When we got the text last Thursday that Grandma’s health had taken a bad turn, Sam and I were at a YWCA benefit luncheon. My eyes flinched away when I glimpsed the first line of text — I didn’t want to see any more of it, didn’t want to sit with that knowledge that it was nearing her time.
After, sitting in the huge convention hall, everything that was said on stage filtered down to me through the frame of thinking on Grandma and praying for her peace. The theme of the lunch was empowering women, and all that the Y had done in its last 100 years or so of improving the status of women in our country. With every landmark the speaker listed in the Y’s history and the women’s movement, I thought of Grandma’s remarkable life and how she had lived through each of those big moments, of how interwoven her experiences were with the forces shaping the way things are for women today, for me today.
The speaker recalled organizing the YWCA did leading up to women getting the vote in 1920 — on August 26, a few days before Grandma’s 7th birthday. I fondly thought of Grandma, ever the proud democrat, reporting to Marianna in 2008 how thrilled she was to have lived long enough to vote for a woman in a presidential primary election, and now to have voted for an African American. This fall she was looking forward to voting for Wendy Davis for Texas governor — in her politics as in most things, I am a woman after her own heart.
Then a speaker recollected women’s transition into the workforce—remembering his mother and her work at the Boeing fighter jet manufacturer during WWII while all the men were away fighting in Europe, and how even after men returned to the factory she remained the most industrious and productive of her coworkers; I reflected on Grandma’s tireless work ethic —I imagined her during those years my dad was in high school— working at Delroy’s grocery and now widowed, saving money to help put her last child through Baylor. Between raising Betty Gail, Marianna, Don and Dad, working at the store, teaching Sunday school, (and we all know how clean she kept that house) I am sure she didn’t sit down once between 1935 and 1985.
Even as the speaker recounted the wilder days of the 1970s feminist movement, I thought of Hazel—leading her own quieter campaign, disrupting things at First Baptist Alba by being the first woman to teach men in her Sunday school class along with women. She remains a revolutionary in my mind — for her uniqueness, for her integrity, for the fortitude with which she held her ideals about her identity as a lifelong student, a Christian woman, mother, our matriarch. There is no one like her.
I keep saying to people: 101 years — There is much more to celebrate than to be sad about. And that is the truth. But we are sad. Sad that for the first time in 60 years, Hazel Laverne Panter doesn’t live in the yellow house on Holley Street. Sad that for the first time ever, in any of our lives, we don’t share the earth with her spectacular being. Isn’t that remarkable? That not one of us have lived one single day on earth that Grandma wasn’t with us, praying for our individual healths, happinesses, our paths in life? Her absence is a shift that will take some getting used to. How do we adjust?—and more challengingly—how do we honor and live up to the standards she set for us? I imagine each of us taking up the grace, the massive Grace, she joyfully carried upon her shoulders, only in dividing it among us are we collectively strong enough to carry her mighty legacy.
I found these words from her in a note today and they are invigorating parting advice for us, now on that journey of living to her tribute: “You are in a right place and right time to see the world — and it’s a right time to make a difference in the world. So get busy and stay busy! We live highly expectant!”
Loved every word
Wonderful words!