Kathleen memorial service

[The following are the remarks that I made during the memorial to Mom, Kathleen Joyce Weiler Stiegler on January 26, 2019.  It was intended to give context to the picture presentation shown during the program.  After reading this, you may wish to watch the 24 minute picture program now on YouTube at tinyurl.com/kathleenpix.  Her online-obituary is available at tinyurl.com/kathleenobit ]

Welcome family and remaining friends.

When you’re 93, many of the important people in your life are no longer living, one’s influence diminishes.   If you want to have a large gathering at your funeral, you have to either be a president or die young.  Mom did neither.  Those that are here represent the people who were important to Mom:  family, of course, and friends including a few from her 1980s journal club who undoubtedly have some unique memories and insights into what made Kathleen Kathleen.  Dad, Jonathan and I appreciate you all for being here.

When one of my patients experiences the death of a spouse who has suffered from loss of mental capacity, dementia, the dominant emotion they feel is not sadness but relief.  Relief not only that their spouse is no longer experiencing life without their previous mental sharpness and the dependency that comes with that, but also personal relief that the intense care taking they provided their spouse is over. The sadness that comes with death has started months or years earlier as their spouse’s companionship gradually diminished.   So, when death comes, it seems a bit confusing, even wrong, to feel more relief than sadness.

Mom had changed over the last three years.  After taking care of Dad for the first 66 years of their marriage, Mom was increasingly being taken care of by Dad, caring being a task he was familiar with mainly professionally.  You did a remarkable job, Dad, in taking over all the tasks of the household that Mom had been so good at.  Though compared to Mom, you failed miserably as a cook – but she had set a pretty high standard.

It is a comfort to all families who see a loved one go through dementia that the person experiencing it becomes less aware of it.  Mom would have not wanted to live the way she was living, to suffer the “slings and arrows of outrage fortune” as she would likely put it since she loved Shakespeare.  So, paradoxically perhaps, we are all happy for the relief that death brings. While we are sad today for the loss of Mom which started several years ago, we are very happy with the 93 years, in various stages, that we had her with us. 

We are going to relive those stages in Mom’s life today, and it’s going to be a little sad, a little silly and a lot of fun.  Many of you know that Mom, from a very early age, loved to write.  She wrote little plays for her friends as a little girl, she wrote for the high school newspaper, she wrote for her journal club and she, wrote, of course, her memoir.  So, in her own words, as of September 29, 1998, this is her life:

From “Abbreviated bio”, written 9/29/1998, written by KJWS;

I was born in Lisbon, ND, before the beginning of the great depression.  Fourth child in a family of six children, I lived in Lisbon all my young, growing up years and remember those times mostly with a great deal of nostalgia.

Lisbon was (and still is) a small prairie town, pop about 2000.  My dad was a painter, carpenter, and former country school teacher.  My mother was a wife, mother and homemaker.  We were not “well-to-do."  Read "poor."

My first eight years of school was at St. Aloysius, taught by sisters of the Presentation, a French order of nuns.  I loved school, and think I had a good education.  I was a good student, I think.  I completed four years of high school, had fun, kept very busy in extra-curricular activities, graduated with honors and a scholarship to St. Kate’s in St. Paul and from there to St. Mary’s School of Nursing in Minneapolis.  After graduation, I worked there in OB for two years, during the years of the baby boom, and then I worked in downtown Mpls. In a GYN office for a year, then I was married.

We were married in Germany and spent the first 2 ½ years of our marriage there with my husband who was in the post-war army of occupation which was a wonderful experience.  It offered much travel, and many other cultural experiences, making us really appreciate our own homeland.  When we returned to Mpls, and were out of the army, my husband decided to return to his medical studies, taking a residency in surgery at the University.  We lived in University village, a Quonset hut residence for students.  During that time, we had three children in four years, and I was busy, but enjoyed what I was doing.  (I think.)

When we were finished with the residency training, we moved to Mpls to employment.  And he worked, and together we raised the children.  I spent a lot of time doing the usual things you must do.  Had interesting and useful hobbies – cooking, sewing, gardening.  Also, the league of Women Voters, Girl scouts, Cub scouts, politics, bowling, (don’t laugh), and looking out for my aging parents long distance.  Lots of trips with the kids – to Craguns at Gull Lake, and north, south, east and west in the USA, and one with the children to Germany 17 years after we left.

When the empty nest syndrome hit me, I went back to school, and discovered, after a stint on the Hennepin County grand jury, that my interest in criminal justice might be worth investigating.  I had also taken a couple of quarters at the U. in Women’s History, after discovering in American History course work, that women had been left out of our country’s history!!!  After a trip to the women’s prison at Shakopee I planned a program course at the U. to finish my bachelor’s degree in Women’s Studies and the Criminal Justice System.  I graduated in 1984 with so much pride it was almost sinful.  It was certainly almost the best thing I have ever done for myself.  (The children are the greatest achievement.)

Many things were important to Mom:  religion (initially but that changed), family (always), homemaking (a great cook, gardener and all that), politics (with dramatic evolution of orientation), and women’s rights.

Before we get to the photos, Let’s let Mom tell a few more stories.

First, the start of a long love affair.  From Kathleen’s autobiography, A North Dakota Girl Remembers, page 142:

One night in OB in early spring that year, when I was assisting one of my favorite younger doctors, Dr. Joe H., in the delivery room, he told me that Dr. S., a colleague, wanted to meet me.  I had seen him, a doctor new to the hospital, on the elevator, and I was mildly curious.  Dr. S. was Jewish, and I demurely declined the suggestion saying my life was complicated enough without bringing a Jewish man into the mix.  Later, another colleague in OB, Dr. David R. [who was present at the memorial, age 97!], took my telephone number from the file in the OB office, and gave it to Dr. S.  When he called for a date, I accepted…  I was curious about this insistent young doctor.  Although I had never been keen about dating doctors, to me as a graduate nurse, they sounded more attractive, especially the ones who were not married.  They seemed more cultured, … they had been around, lived a little, and were more interesting.  It was so with Dr. S.   However, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would date a Jewish man.

Before we continue to story of romance, a side trip.  Mom’s sense of humor shows with this story about her brush with a famous person.  (page 144)

[1948] My new home was near the airport, and the owner, Mr. And Mrs. B., rented their extra rooms only to females.  Norma, who worked for Northwest Airlines, lived upstairs there with a friend, Gloria.  I had a small but adequate room near them.  We had kitchen privileges, but we used them infrequently.  I did some babysitting with their little boy, Butch.  Even though I lived there just a short time, it was interesting. 

                Mr. B. was one of Hubert Humphrey’s secretaries when he was mayor of Minneapolis.  Mr. Humphrey occasionally came for dinner at MR. B.’s home, and always had a lot to say.  We young women sat unseen upstairs on the open stair steps and listened to their interesting conversations.  The bathroom was upstairs and when the mayor came up, we scattered away, but not too far.  I always loved to get autographs of famous people, and Hubert Humphrey was no exception.  I stopped him on his way downstairs.  He was gracious and friendly.  He came into my room, asked me about my job, and then we chatted about St. Mary’s and St. Catherine’s College.

                Some years later, after he became Senator Humphrey, I met him again in a receiving line at the Mt. Sinai Hospital Ball.  My husband dared me to ask him if he remembered me.  The senator said he thought I looked familiar.  I could not resist the temptation to refresh his memory.  I asked, “Don’t you remember a few years ago when I entertained you in my bedroom?”  He was a little dismayed, and I quickly explained.  We all laughed.

Back to the story of the romance.  Dad puts on the pressure.  After a brief trip to Chicago (in which they had separate rooms, Mom emphasizes), Dad is off to Germany.

(page 148) From the beginning of our friendship, on our first date at the Flame, we enjoyed each other’s company.  Dr. S. was about my height, slim, dark, attractive, and sensual.  Posed and dignified, he was serious, intelligent, extremely self-assured, and knowledgeable about everything – or so it seemed.  He loved classical music and enjoyed opera.  He was kind, polite, and funny.  He was stubborn – he like things his way.  He rarely took no for an answer, and he made me laugh.

                He said he was attracted to me because I was tall.  This was flattering indeed because being tall had been a handicap for me many times growing up in the small town of Lisbon, North Dakota.  Tall women still intimidated men who were shorter than they were.  I did prefer a boyfriend who was at least as tall as I was.  Dr. S. even wanted me to wear high heels.  Then, as we discovered many interests we had in common, we grew closer.

You’ll see what that was like in the pictures.

More from Mom’s “abbreviated biography”, regarding her views on religion.

During the last few months of nurses’ training my life changed.  I met the man who would ultimately lead me away from the church.  He had been born a Lutheran but was a serious skeptic.    Well educated, intelligent and attractive, he dominated my life and emotions long enough to plant many seeds of doubt and discontent with my spiritual/religious life as a Catholic.  In 1949, on the first of January, I did not attend mass on a holy day of obligation – the “feast” day of Christ’s circumcision.  That I would choose that day is interesting.  As I remember, it was a causal decision of that day – maybe I’d been up late on New Year’s Eve, I do not remember.  I do know I felt different that day – not necessarily uncomfortable, maybe thoughtful.  The next steps seem to have come easily – skipping mass on Sundays.  During the last year, previous to New Year’s, I had been seeing a Jewish man who was fast becoming more than a casual friend.  Again, questions of religion surfaced.  I had a chance to learn about another different belief and began to have serious doubts about the stretched and broken rules as followed by many Catholics, and the pervasive hypocrisy present.  I determined I could not attend the services and indulge in the obligations and still be honest with my feelings.  As time went by, my lack of participation became easier and the guilt I felt dissipated.  Only when I was with my parents did I feel remorseful.  My mother did not suspect or know until my marriage a few months later…

                …During our marriage, now of 52 years, our birth religions have hung in the background.  Certainly, they influenced how we raised our children.  We have enjoyed special dates and occasions with our children in both the Catholic and Jewish faiths.  In the church, in the synagogue, at home with extended family.  Circumcisions, Bar Mitzvahs, Weddings, Passover, Christmas, Rosh Hashanah, Easter.  As we planned when we married, our children were given their right of choice of what religion, or not, to believe in.  We have a Unitarian, a “born-again” Christian, and an agnostic/atheist.  It has been interesting – to say the least – to note the paths taken.

                I firmly believe that everyone should have a right to choose what their spiritual life will be – within the ethical boundaries laid down for the general good of all humanity.  And their choice should be respected.  We all must have the freedom to choose.  If not as children, then when we are grown.  To the powers that be – Bless us all, please.

She was a very political person with strong beliefs, but they evolved dramatically.  More from her written journal:

My first vote was in the national presidential election of 1948 and I voted for John Dewey, who was running against Harry Truman. Truman had ascended to the presidency when FDR had died in his fourth term in 1945 and was unpopular with many people.  The night of the election, I was on a date with a boyfriend (who later became my husband).  We were in a car, parked on the old high bridge in St. Paul, listening to the election returns come in on the radio.  At that time, he was a Democrat and he was very sure Truman would win.  And he was right.  I was dumbfounded.  How would he know that?  Well, a lot of people were surprised.  Yet, nevertheless, Truman proved to be a better president than most people expected.  As time went by, even my father agreed.  But he always did fault him for the Big Bomb droppings. 

During the next few years, I remained a staunch Republican.  An old boyfriend said to me, “Katie, always vote Republican.”  So, I did.  For too many years.  And then one day I realized that the Republican Party did not really reflect my interests.  You see, there was a time when I really conformed.  I was a block worker – grass roots – finance drives.  I attended the caucuses and other organizational meetings.  I supported the party candidates.  I had faith in the party principles.  Eisenhower was probably my favorite candidate.  I really did “like Ike.”  He was a war hero, he could do no wrong as far as I was concerned.  In the 1950s, I would rush anywhere to see him when he came through town, grabbing my three young children and taking them along.  In 1964, I supported Barry Goldwater.  I was crazy about him because he seemed to say things that had to be said.  I proudly covered my red convertible with his bumper stickers.  [And she covered her 8-year-old son, me, Michael, in campaign buttons and sent him to school that way!]  I was very angry at the treatment he received from the Democrats during the campaign.  Lies, lies, distortions, I said.  And most of them were.  And I stuck with the GOP.  However, changes were afoot.  Some philosophical facts were becoming apparent.

Enter the women’s movement of the 70s.  From her journals:

In the late 1960s, as a long-time member in good standing of the Women’s League of Voters, I chose to study the history and status of the Equal Rights Amendment as my presentation topic for the year. The ERA was first introduced into Congress in 1921, following the passage of the women’s suffrage amendment. I guess it must have been just too much for the male Congress to deal with at that time and ratification did not happen. On the face of it, this amendment was, and still is at this writing, a simple, straightforward document, very easy to read and understand.

I happily delved into my study of it – the history and present status of the amendment, and in due time presented my findings to my league group. As I recall, it was well received. I must have ignored any negative remarks. And vocally publicly and privately I began to push for its passage. I had my own soapbox and use it whenever I could. The amendment itself was so logical – equality of the sexes – what could be more natural and fairer? Why had it languished so long? And I began to investigate. As it once again became a viable political entity on the national scene, I learned how politically threatening it was too many people. Of course, it was not such a simple document – simply written perhaps – but, in essence, it was a powerful one. If passed, it would give unfettered freedom to women. Men, too, could benefit. Women would finally be a force that could no longer be ignored, and the more conservative politicians dreamed up for many reasons, some of them outrageous, why the amendment should not pass. Conservative religious groups adamantly opposed to the ERA. They suggested it could destroy family life, promote abortion, women would be forced into combat, and, of all the more ridiculous objections, we would be forced to use unisex toilets! (One must think that some of those great thinkers must have been sorely distressed when they had to use the facilities on airplanes.)

As the push for the ratification of the amendment heated up, I began to take a strong look at the Republican Party. I have supported it for so long, and I just did not want to admit that so many of them could be so biased against women. How could they be – when women did so much to support all the party’s activities, from bottom to top? The people in power in the local GOP were always pushing their candidates – which was logical – but why haven’t I been critical before? My epiphany came the night of the last precinct caucus I ever attended. As is usual, in preparation for the county convention there were many resolutions introduced by individuals, and I decided to present one for consideration. I bravely stood, read my entry: “be it resolved that there be at the next county convention an equal representation of women and men to choose the next candidates to run for election to county and state offices.” The silence was palpable. And then there was a call for a secret ballot – all of the other votes had been a show of hands – and of course, the resolution was defeated. Such a bunch of hypocrites. One person apologized to me. That night I left the party and became a very vocal independent, which I remain today. They lost a loyal worker, and I turned my attention to working for equal rights, the ERA, and made myself a feminist, which I had always been.

This wariness toward the value of men started early, as seen in a few selected quotes from her book.

Page 27:  We [referring to her sister Rita and brother Eugene] were quite close – even sleeping three in bed for a time. As they grew older, I would repeat the poems and stories I had read in school, such as “the Cask of Amontillado” by Poe. I thought at one time I would be a teacher, but I changed my mind in high school because of the bad behavior of the boys. What a challenge they were…

Page 63:  …The boys’ behavior was a challenge during practice. They were often unruly and silly, and I felt sorry for Ms. Buhrman who had to put up with them. One day after school, and a particularly difficult time at practice, I passed by the door of the music room. She was alone at the piano, playing and singing, with tears streaming down her face. I decided then that I would never become the teacher I had wanted to be since childhood.  It seemed that boys were too rude and difficult for a woman to manage. In spite of this, our mixed chorus did get to the music contest to perform. However, I remember that the girls’ glee club placed better.

Page 73:  …I was always helpful around the house. I wished my older brother would do more. He did little or nothing at home. He worked after school at the school. I do not think he enjoyed high school very much. He had no time for fun. However, I always believed the balance of chores at home was skewed between him and me, and it never changed.

Most of the time in winter, my father, too, found little work and lay around the house doing nothing. Occasionally I had a few choice words for him, too. I did apologize later, but even as a young girl, I was disturbed to see my mother working so hard to take care of us all, mostly by herself, in those Depression years.

Her interest in feminism grew when I was in high school and college, the time when most of my friends here today got to know my mom.  Some of you have told me how her attitudes toward the women’s movement influenced you.  But this took different forms.  Perhaps the most succinct characterization of my mom’s sometimes very strongly displayed attitudes about being a woman during this time came from one of my high school friends who is here today. He characterized her this way, “If you go up to Mrs. Stiegler and say, ‘It’s a nice day!’ she would respond by saying, ‘It’s a nice day for you!  You’re a MAN!’”

Her interest led her to take Rebecca to Washington DC in 1978.  From her journal:

In July 1978, along with my daughter, my friend and neighbor, and my sister, I climbed aboard the bus that would take us and others to Washington DC for the big march and rally to press for the passage of the ERA.  We were on the bus for 27 hours, with short rest and food stops. We got very little sleep, and many of us arrived with her feet swollen like balls. However, we arrived at our destination, energized, and ready to march.

It was a hot summer day in Washington – the temperature at the time of our march was 96°. There were no food or water kiosks in place. We did find fountains inside buildings along our route to the Capitol building, where we saw many famous women activists and listened to many impassioned speeches during a rally. Many of us were wearing white “uniform” with the green accents of the early suffragists. We carried many signs. Thousands of people – women and men, too, came to support the day. We met an elderly woman who had known Alice Paul, the author of the original amendment, and heard some of them speak. We had hoped to see Pres. Jimmy Carter speak in support of the ERA, but he and his family had vanished to cooler places. But we did it! We marched, we rallied. When the speeches were over, some of us stuck our feet into one of the reflecting pools and then we collapsed into the cool shade, wherever we could, of that hot Washington, DC, summer day and waited once again to board our bus and return to the Twin Cities. Again, a 27-hour bus ride. But what a day it had been! To have been with so many people, representing so many different groups and cultures, too. It was truly an uplifting experience. And forever memorable. And we were totally exhausted, but we felt we had made a stand. Well!

[A side note:  although the ERA did not pass then and its time limit expired in the mid-1980s, at the time of Mother’s Memorial January 2019, it was having somewhat of a resurgence. In 2017 Nevada ratified the amendment, and Illinois followed suit in 2018. Just a week before the memorial service, the Virginia Senate passed the amendment and the House had a vote coming up.  Between this resurgence and the recent #MeToo movement, Mom would have been very pleased.]

Try as we might, my Dad and brother, as men, were slightly suspect in general due to our gender.  We accepted that even as we fought it from time to time.  But Mom had a confidant and compatriot in Rebecca, and they shared a strong mother/daughter bond emotionally and philosophically.  Rebecca’s sudden death in 2007 due to asthma was a blow to my mom that challenged even her strength of character.  She never really stopped grieving for Rebecca.  Jonathan and I could not fill the gap.  Rebecca’s memory was with mom indelibly.

But there was other family that she embraced:  her nieces, (less so her nephews, but, hey, they were men) and her friends.  So, let’s take a photographic whirlwind of Mom’s life.  Keep in mind that she married a photographer and looking at these pictures makes you wonder if Dad wasn’t just looking for a model because he apparently got a very willing one before and after they were wed.  You’re going to see her parents, her childhood, high school (she played upright bass and bass drum – good things to do if you’re tall), the courtship, the German marriage and life, the growth of the family, lots and lots of holiday greetings, lots of swimsuits (geez, dad, really?), the march to Washington, her paintings, the anniversaries and the end of her life.  Look for the German chocolate cakes for the birthdays (my favorite), people with more hair than they have now, and an apparent joy for life. 

The musical pieces used in the picture show are ones that were all her favorites representing her wide range of musical taste.

(At this point the picture show was played.)  Click here for picture show (24 minutes on YouTube)

[After the picture show, there were very personal remembrances of Mom by Kristina, Andrew, Jeni and Emily and Jonathan, and Judy as well as an original delightful song sung by Paul Stiegler.]

I then read a letter written by Mom in April 1988:

My dear children,

As you know, your mother is a “would-be famous” writer. And this is one of her long promised-to-self letters to you all. I have a lot of things to say. But I will try to be as brief as possible.

First of all, to my birth children, respect, Jonathan and Michael: I want you to know how much I have enjoyed having you share my life. How dull it would have been without you. You were (almost always) a good little kids – dependable adolescents and now you are exemplary and responsible adults. There are few things I would change if I had to do my work with you over again. Yes, it was work! Knowing what I know now, I would have completed my formal education before I had children. And again, knowing what I know now, I certainly would rear you all in a totally egalitarian atmosphere. For even though you are all good people, you would now be even better having grown up in a non-sexist home.

And I should have loved you more. Perhaps you have guessed some of this before?

And last, I want to wish you all long, healthy, and active lives.

To my in-law children, David, Brenda and Sonja: you have been welcome additions to my life. Thank you for that, and thank you for being yourselves, and thank you, to, for Kristina, Jeni, and Keir.  They are so special – and they are my immortality.   [Written, obviously, before the births of Emily and Cole!]

To all of you: be happy. Stay friends. I’ve enjoyed being an active part of your lives. Take care.

Love, Mother, Kathleen Joyce Weiler Stiegler

Mom loved poetry.  Even as her memory faltered and her vocal expression became uncharacteristically infrequent, she would still remember poems.  I’d start to read a familiar poem to her, and, not having said a word during my visit so far, she would chime in and finish the poem.  She read poems to us children, especially Robert Louis Stevenson’s Children’s Garden of Verses.  By memory, of course, she would recite:

(The Swing, By Robert Louis Stevenson)

How do you like to go up in a swing,

   Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

   Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

   Till I can see so wide,

Rivers and trees and cattle and all

   Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,

   Down on the roof so brown—

Up in the air I go flying again,

   Up in the air and down!

Finally, I’ll end with a poem from her favorite poet, Emily Dickenson.  Mom had a lot of books of her poems and had even travelled to her birthplace in Amherst.  (I think she did, if she didn’t, Dad, don’t say anything – it’ll destroy the narrative.)

Here is arguably Dickinson’s most famous poem, read not by me, but by one of mom’s favorite actresses (or do I say “actor” now?)  (Recording of poem read by Meryl Streep.)

Because I could not stop for Death —

He kindly stopped for me —

The Carriage held but just Ourselves —

And Immortality.

We slowly drove — He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility —

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess — in the Ring —

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain —

We passed the Setting Sun —

Or rather — He passed Us —

The Dews drew quivering and Chill —

For only Gossamer, my Gown —

My Tippet — only Tulle —

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground —

The Roof was scarcely visible —

The Cornice — but a mound.—

Since then — 'tis Centuries — and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity —

 

 

Remembrances received from other family:

Mary Lynn Willis Parodi:

Aunt Kathleen was the last of my mom's siblings and we were very close.  She felt like a second mother to me.  I called her a LOT - at least once a week - to say "Hi - how are you and Uncle Spike?", to ask questions about my mom (her older sister Joan), to get her opinion about, thoughts on, and/or advice on a personal dilemma and/or just to chat.  She ALWAYS asked me how I was and what was happening in my life and with my family.  She loved hearing and helping!!  She liked sharing the story - and it was fun to hear -  about how, with my birth, "she became an Aunt for the first time and she was SOOOO excited!!!!"  Aunt Kathleen, I DO AND WILL ALWAYS LOVE AND MISS YOU!!!   Your niece, Mary Lynn Willis Parodi

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From Victoria (Webber) Sweeney:

Aunt Kathleen was my mom Rita's older sister. I am very sad that I can't be at Aunt Kathleen's memorial today-my thoughts and love are with her, Uncle Spike and the rest of the family.

 Although they were 6 years apart, my mom adored her big sister, Kat, and she had many fond and happy memories of growing up with her in Lisbon and in the years after. I wish she could share a few with you -A few of my own favorite memories are:

- Our fun summer trips  to Minneapolis and Lisbon. I loved coming to visit Aunt Kathleen, Uncle Spike and my cousins  for family reunions.  I'm sure it was Aunt Kathleen's idea that all the cousins had to troop down to the family room together and give performances on our respective musical  instruments! Aunt Kathleen and Uncle Spike  hosted these events numerous times. We had a blast!  She, along with my mom, were the two women in my life that taught me the importance of staying connected and close to family. 

- She taught me the difference between a first cousin, a first cousin once-removed and a second cousin! I was always so confused by that!- Aunt Kathleen, like my mom, was an avid letter writer and I was the fortunate recipient of many of these newsy missives.

- Since I was Rebecca's nearest-in-age younger cousin, Aunt Kathleen would send me lots of Rebecca's cool clothes  (It was the 60's and 70's - of course they were cool!)  I was always so excited when the boxes arrived!- I attended a St. Mary's Nursing School reunion with Aunt Kathleen and my mom. Oh, the stories I heard, especially when we toured their dormitory!  Crazy, daring and funny stories! I was sworn to secrecy so I can't share! Made me wish I had gone to nursing school where they did. I'm sure that part of the reason I'm a nurse is because of my mom, Aunt Kathleen and Aunt Joann.

- Talking with her about her memoir. There were  events and things that I hadn't heard about  and it was good to talk with her about them. It is so awesome that she wrote the book, I was always wishing she would write the  "rest of the story"!

In the past few years we spoke on the phone often and I really missed talking to her when it got harder for her to hear. I feel very fortunate and happy that I was able to visit with her in November. We had wonderful conversations, hand-holding and hug time and lots of laughs while we ate chocolate!  Who knew she liked Peppermint Junior Mints!! I'll miss that laugh and the way she said  uff da..

I will remember Aunt Kathleen as a strong, determined, intelligent, gorgeous woman with a kind heart and a great sense of humor. She gained near legendary status in my family - especially with my daughters and niece - as a strong, confident, outspoken feminist and role model. I am grateful that she was in my life and for showing me the importance of family and history and maintaining a connection with current and past generations.She is the last of her generation of Weiler women and what a generation they were! They are a hard act to follow!

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From Tony Stiegler:

Dear Uncle Farrell, Michael and Jonathan,

This is a brief remembrance note about Katie, which I invite you to read at her Celebration of Life on Saturday, if you choose: 

The west coast Stiegler Family is thinking of all of you and our Aunt Kate today and recalling all the good times we enjoyed together.  We wish that we could be with you in person but we are certainly there in heart and soul.

My memories of Katie during our family visits are strong.  We enjoyed coming to the Twin Cities, and to your home, when Ben and I were young kids.  The pictures that you've unearthed and shared over the last several weeks are priceless, bringing us back to the 1970's.  The afros, belt buckles, sport coats and muscle shirts tell the story.   When we were fortunate to visit you, we were certain that there would be mischief afoot among the cousins, and a stern authoritarian adult presence if matters took a boisterous teenage turn towards disruption.  It was not our Uncle Farrell--he seemed to patiently tolerate the hijinks.  No...it was Aunt Kate who put her foot down and set us straight.  

As we explored the limits of civility, we knew that Aunt Kate might be right around the corner, or within earshot, for a well deserved admonition, reproach, or maybe just the disapproving "look".  Thankfully for Ben and I as the guest cousins from Evanston, and for Paul, Ira and Beth Jo from across town on Utah Street, Katie's corrections were usually directed to Michael or Jonathan, while Rebecca escaped as the "chosen one"--she could do no harm in her lovely mother's eyes.  While Mickey, Sheree, Ione, Alan, Kate & Farrell, and our maternal grandparents Bea and Bill,  discussed the day's important events and topics in the living room over Vat 69 scotch and homemade canapes, Katie would send us outdoors to play street hockey or football in the snow and ice, or to explore the Minnehaha Creek for frogs, or downstairs to cause trouble out of sight.  We knew we had to be well behaved because Aunt Kate was close by, or would mysteriously appear at the top of the staircase just as our energy levels crescendoed.  She had that knack. In retrospect her strategy was simple: ensure that the kids didn't get injured but got our ya ya's out before the formal family meal, where everyone was expected to fall into line.   

I remember Aunt Kate as an extraordinary, gracious, cultured, traveled, well informed and finely polished intellectual.  She was quick with a sharp witty observation or a provocative opinion.  Her pronouncements cut to the chase of any topic.   Occasionally a more elevated tone of discourse would arise between Kate and Uncle Alan, which reminded us that there were different opinions at the table.  It was usually at those times that Michael would sit up straighter in his chair with iron posture staring down into his plate holding back giggles, Jonathan would look around the room or up at the ceiling innocently humming, and Rebecca would calmly smile and be Rebecca.   My brother Ben and I tried to just blend in, following our wise cousins' leads.

It was Kate's grace and forceful oratorical delivery that made such an impression on me.  She made her points quietly, firmly and with sufficient rhetorical tone to ensure that you knew where she stood, while leaving no apparent room for argument.  If Uncle Alan or others stepped into the ring to engage in a debate,  Kate's voice would become a bit firmer, more strident and, perhaps, moderately dismissive in her rebuttal.  There was no retreat and no convincing her of an alternative view. Uncle Farrell would offer wise clarifications from time to time, preserving the dinner table's goodwill, harmony and tranquility until it was time for a game of chess, an impromptu musical performance or the inevitable family photos.  

As I recall my vision of Kate, she is standing tall, upright to her full striking height, elegantly dressed, sparkly, and with a knowing gleam in her eyes, usually near her beloved Spike.  She is matter of factly and incisively speaking truth to power, proclaiming what is, and what is not.  She is stubbornly persuasive and strong minded.  Her opinionated resolve and feisty spirit will carry on in all of our hearts and memories forever.  I miss those days, I miss Katie, and I miss the warmth that we felt in her home.  RIP Aunt Kate and may your memory be a blessing for all of us.

Tony

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From Ben Stiegler:

I loved my Aunt Kate.  She was so different from any other grown woman I knew, and I gained so much from her. 

She was direct, with those flashing eyes looking right into you when she asked a question or, more frequently, posed a challenge by way of a provocative statement, followed by “don’t you agree?”

She was kind to me, from when I was a boy racing around her beautiful home with the entire cousin posse in high gear to when I was first on my own living in the cities.  She made me feel like I was always welcome at your family table. 

She gave me a way to pet kitties when 4-legged friends were off-limits in our house. 

She let me hold a parakeet!

She took me to my first (and only) midnight Xmas mass.

Her courage inspired me.  At first, I thought she was a little wacky – heading off to Washington for marches and protests. Then I came to understand how important it was – both to her, and our society at large. She is an important part of why women today have more rights and respect than when she grew up.  She never gave up, nor backed down from what she believed was right. She inspired me in my activism.

But most importantly, she taught me that conflict wasn’t inherently dangerous. In my family, disagreements were usually tiptoed around. Aunt Kate was a little different – she’d just drive a Sherman tank right into the middle of things and present her views. And miraculously – no one was hurt. She gave me courage to speak out – in my family, and in the world.

I wish I’d had a chance to know her as a musician – it would have been such fun to play with her.

I’m grateful that I had a chance to visit her in November, and tell her stories of what I remembered of our times together and the gifts she brought to my life.  Rest in peace, Aunt Kate – and if you see something wrong up there in heaven … I know you’ll take care of it!

----Ben Stiegler

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From Mickey Stiegler:

I have been thinking of the many memories we had with Katie and Farrell and three rise to the surface.  

When Farrell and Katie returned from deployment in Germany, they came to stay temporarily with my parents.  Katie was pregnant at the time and Farrell was stationed at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin while his discharge was pending.  To make a long story short, Katie went into labor while he was not there and I was drafted to take Katie to the hospital.  I was young and inexperienced and was quite nervous enroute but Katie sat there calm and reassuring!  Shortly after arrival at the hospital, Rebecca was born! Although I don't recall the circumstances, I again filled in for Farrell and drove Katie to the hospital for Jonathan's birth!!

Another memory was related to Katie returning to the U of M and getting a degree in Criminal Justice.  I recall telling her that, although we lived nearlyi 500 miles away, we would attend her graduation  as I would rather honor her in life rather than attend her funeral.  As things turned out, we are now 1,500 miles away and health issues preclude us from attending the memorial service.

Finally, we enjoyed travelling together to Provence a number of years ago staying in shared accommodations. We had a car and drove all over the area.  However, when ever we stopped to sight see and passed  a kiosk of postcards , we had to stop for Katie to peruse the assortment and make selections to add to her collection! I wonder if that collection still exists.

Katie was lots of fun and we had many laughs and good times over the years and she will be missed.  Aunt Sheree will be sending you her thoughts shortly.  Thank you for all you and Jonathan are doing for your Dad.

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Denys and Margaret Nicol
December 11, 2018
We had a close friendship with Kathleen and Spike for 50 years. They gave us our wedding reception and generous hospitality throughout our three years in Minneapolis and on our frequent return visits. They also visited us in the UK and invited us to Scottsdale.
Our heartfelt condolences to the family.