Verna Jane Brown was born on February 4, 1912, to Tom and Minnie Brown. She was raised on a farm in Glencoe, Ontario. She was the 7th of 12 children and had 3 sisters and 8 brothers. She doted on her younger siblings and was a great help to her older siblings as well as her mother. She helped out on the farm as was her duty, baking bread and pies for the midday and evening meals.
She was a sassy young thing, popular with the fellows, especially her brothers, who were especially fond of her and included her in everything. Verna was a tomboy, and played softball and hockey with her brothers.
Verna wanted to be a nurse. With the help of her doctor, Dr. Freel, she was able to take classes by mail and earn her certification. Dr. Freel even helped her get a job, but alas, it didn’t last long because she couldn’t lift patients because of her back.
When Verna was 24, a visitor came to the farm who would change her life forever. John Vincent Wurges, a dashing fellow who was 2 years younger than she, came to the farm with his cousin Oral Kindrie, who was also a cousin of Verna’s.
The distant cousins hit it off and soon Jack or Vinny, as he was called, was a constant fixture of the Brown farm. He came to visit as often as he could, quite a feat for him since he was from the States. Verna was engaged to another fellow when she met Jack, but soon broke her engagement because she knew that Jack was the guy for her.
On December 23, 1939, Verna and Jack were married in a small ceremony at the farm. And so began 55 years of wedded bliss. Jack took Verna to live in his home state just across the Canadian border. They lived in a small house in Royal Oak, a suburb of Detroit, Michigan.
A few years after they were married, Jack was called to serve his country in WWII. And so they parted for the first time in their married lives as he sailed off on the Saratoga, their futures uncertain. Verna kept herself busy as one year passed, then two. She missed Jack very much, and sent him pictures of herself to keep him company. He missed her very much and wrote love notes to her on the back of the pictures: “My darling, if you could only know my thoughts today. I received these pictures 3 Sept. 1944 aboard USS Saratoga at Bremerton, Wash. I love you so much.”
When the war ended, Jack returned home to Verna and they were together once more. In 1947, their twosome became three, when they adopted a little bundle of joy named Erwin Jeffrey, or Jeff as most people call him, or Dad, as I call him. Jeff was the apple of Jack and Verna’s eyes. Verna doted on Jeff and spoiled him rotten.
In 1968, Jeff married Judie, who Verna soon adopted as the daughter she never had. Then came two more apples: her grandchildren. First came me in 1969, and then my brotherJon in 1972. And once more Verna had someone to dote on and spoil rotten. And boy did she spoil us. Jon and I both looked forward to spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s because the sky was the limit. Grandma always stocked the house with cookies and candy and we spent many happy hours making pizza and homemade doughnuts or fudge, things we weren’t allowed to eat at home.
And the rest, they say, is history. Jack and Verna lived out their lives together spending happy times with friends and family. They retired in Florida, spending the summers in Michigan. Golf and bowling and parties became staples of their lives.
Now, I’m not saying that life was perfect. When people age their bodies often have to make sacrifices to keep them living. Grandma must have been the sacrificial lamb as she had operation after operation on knees, toes, wrists, and shoulders. And then her eyes went. But still she kept on going, part bionic woman, part energizer bunny. In fact, she played golf until she was in her 80’s, a most amazing feat considering that she couldn’t see the ball when she hit it (or so she said!).
In 1993, Jack and Verna parted for the second time in their marriage and a huge void was left in her life. For the first time she was truly on her own. But, in true Verna fashion, she made the best of the situation and overcame her loneliness by caring for others. In her home at Mercy Bellbrook there is a “sick floor”, where all the residents go when they are ill and need care. Grandma visited these people several times a week, bringing them candy to brighten up their day. She visited the sick floor religiously, until she ended up there herself with a broken hip. She was 88 years old. The doctor wasn’t sure if she would ever walk again, but she showed him. In only six months, Grandma was walking – a miraculous feat.
In 2004, Grandma fell again and fractured a vertabrate in her neck. The doctors mandated that she had to wear a neck brace now, and probably would for the rest of her life.She was now very limited in her movements and had to depend on others (finally!) to help her with everything. In retrospect, I think it was after this removal of independance that we began to lose her. First her hearing went and then she began to become less aware of her surroundings. Then last March she came down with bronchitis and never recovered. Her passing was both a blessing and a heartbreak: a blessing because we knew she would be happy to finally with my grandfather again and that she wouldn't have to suffer any more, and a heartbreak because we knew that we were really going to miss her.
There are many things that I admired deeply about Grandma, but three things stand out to me today. One is her faith. We went to church often with Grandma and Grandpa and I remember how she loved to sing loudly each hymn with fervor and passion. She always gave thanks for what she had and encouraged us to do so also. I remember her telling me about the golden rule, something she lived her life by: "Jennifer, always treat others as you would want to be treated!" I now tell my own children the same thing.
The second is her forthright-fullness. Grandma didn't care what anyone thought, she did things anyway. If she wanted to go visit an ailing friend, she wouldn't worry about calling first to see if now was a good time for a visit as I probably would do, she would just bake them something tasty and take it over to them, granddaughter in tow.
And third, grandma's outpouring of unconditional love. Grandma might have loved reading Jon and I about Dr. Seuss's Grinch who stole Christmas and his little teeny heart, but one thing's for sure - Grandma was no Grinch! She had the biggest heart of almost anyone I know and her capacity to love is her greatest legacy. She loved anyone and everyone and told you so often, even if she'd just met you.
My grandma is such an inspiration to me. Despite all the challenges that God placed in front of her in her lifetime, she just hurdled over them and kept on living. Even when it was time for her to go she still put up a fight, for I believe that she didn't want to leave her family: her son that she fought so hard to get, her daughter-in-law that she considered her own daughter, her two grandchildren that she doted on, their spouses of whom she was so proud, and her 3 great-grandchildren who continually amazed her with their youthful accomplishments.
Grandma always wore an angel pin on her shirt or sweater because she believed they protected her. I am sure Grandma is tickled pink, as she would say, that she is now one with the angels and can look down upon us and do the protecting herself.
