Thursday, November 19, 2020

Vernetta Reed (November 17, 2020)

Photo of Vernetta Reed taken from
family videos of
Reed Family Chocolate Factory.mp4
There will be a Zoom funeral for my friend Vernetta Reed on Nov 26th at 11am MST. (That will be 10 am PST for me.)

Service Webcast for Vernetta Reed:   https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85853404718 

On her passing I’ve been reflecting on my past association with her. 

Vernetta and I are both Pillings, 3rd cousins, once removed, information that comes out of our shared religious heritage, where connecting to the past is deemed to be of great value.

From memory, I can recite both her lineage and mine, both of us tracing genealogy back to Richard and Catherine Pilling, early pioneers to the Aetna, Alberta pioneer region. My genealogy comes from the oldest brother, Richard Adams, and then goes William, Doral, Arta. Hers is different: Rufus, Suzannah, Vernetta.  That makes us third cousins, once removed.

There’s a lot of warmth contained in the stories of our pioneer heritage. She comes from earnest, hardworking, caring farm people.  There is a difference between her genealogical line and mine as only a Pilling from my side would say: “My stock are all that hers are, and more.” 

Tricksters on our side.  A dash of practical jokes was brought in through marriage. As the scriptures say, “Sometimes these things are passed down for seven generations.”  I always told Vernetta she was from the good side of the family and I was from the other side.

That fact hasn’t kept her and my association apart, in fact, she understood all too well the nature of all of her cousins, the good side and the other.

When it was time for Vernetta to downsize her home she moved from a larger place to two-bedroom bungalow which she spent months planning. At the same time I was upsizing, going from a 1000 square foot bungalow to 1250 square feet built at the Shuswap. Vernetta gave me ther plans for her house, which were just the size I was looking for, and that’s how it came to be that I live in Vernetta’s house.

The first time she came to visit me she gasped. I knew what she was seeing. Where there had been walls in the living room, I had inserted windows, something she might have done had she not been surrounded by neighbors on all sides. When she walked through the house, I knew that she could tell me the measurements of every room and where all the wall plugs were and how the stairwell to the basement had been designed.

Vernetta and I spoke a common language about chocolate. Both of us were skilled at the art of hand-dipping chocolates because we had learned from the same teachers and participated in the same project which had been raising money to build Mormon Church buildings. That will be the subject for another post, how Mormon women raised the funds to raise the walls of churches in central and southern Alberta. 

What would be more fun to talk about, and which we would discuss in detail if Vernetta were here, would be the different flavourings to be used in the cream or the water fondants. 

Vernetta and I both carried the art of chocolate dipping into the festivities around Christmas, and both of us knew that the project was not to make candy but to let children get their hands into the warmth of melted chocolate, or to sit by their mother rolling centers or sprinkling coconut over hand rolls. 
... making bottoms for chocolates ...

Even the youngest child knew how to take their forefinger, dip it in chocolate, and then make dots along wax paper in well-organized lines so that the chocolate, once dipped, would land there and have a reinforced bottom.

Parts of Vernetta’s life that intersected with the life I lived included Vernetta taking swimming lessons, and gathering her friends that didn’t know how to swim, and taking them to the Y.W.C.A for lessons. That is how my mother, Wyora, learned to swim.

Vernetta could sew. Proof would be that when it was time to down-size, she too had been like the rest of us who love to sew, and believing that “she who had bought the most fabric in life would win”. Vernetta told me that when she was downsizing and knew she had to get rid of that fabric, some of it went at her Yard Sale. When one sewer is speaking to another sewer about fabric that is bought with a project in mind and then has to go elsewhere, we both know the pain of that loss.

Vernetta was a project manager. When it was fashionable to buy a used school bus and fix it up to use for family vacations, she refurbished hers with class, right down to the final detail of having a special hat for Lorne when he got in the driver’s seat. He was the conductor of the band, but Vernetta had written the music and purchased the instruments.

One of my children asked me to tell her a little about Vernetta. “Was she intellectual?”

“Yes, in the best way. She was a life-long learner and I cannot think of anything it is that Vernetta would not have known,” I answered. “And if she didn’t know it she could have and would have learned it.”

“Was she social?”

“Yes. Vernetta was outgoing and she liked to entertain. Her dining room set included a side-board set that was filled with linens. I was envious.”

Elsewhere much will be written about her life.

I just want to witness that I was fortunate to have a friend like Vernetta.

Arta

Service Webcast for Vernetta Reed:   https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85853404718 

6 comments:

  1. Thank you, Ria. More about Verneteta. Bonnie Wyora asked me if I remembered Vernetta's laugh. Words to describe the laugh didn't come quickly to me. When I told Bonnie that, she said, "Of course not. That is because Vernetta's laugh was in the corners of her eyes. There was a characteristic sound, but even more it was the look of her eyes," and then Bonnie pointed to the side of her own eye's that is closer to her ears, as if to remind me of exactly where it was that the laughter would be spilling out of Vernetta' face.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Both Lorne and Vernetta feel like they are woven into the fabric of so many stories of my childhood and youth.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I had forgotten about how important telling stories about our relatives is until you made that comment. The mystery to me is that I have told the stories and that I can no longer remember where the stories reside. I only know they were gifted, but I never know if they were received. I am glad some of the stories reside in you.

      Delete
  3. Thanks for reading, Jane -- you are called "unknown" to my blogger programme, but not to me. Do you why it was so good to be around Vernetta? Because she just made everyone feel so comfortable. So accepted. So respected. Wonderful qualities@!

    ReplyDelete

If you are using a Mac, you cannot comment using Safari. Google Chrome, Explorer or Foxfire seem to work.