In Memory of Lois Turner

Lois Turner came into my life like a God-sent angel at a time when I needed an American mom, a friend, and a mentor. Her life was already full of young and old people who listened to her sound and caring advice, but she knew instinctively how much I needed her.

Lois was kind and diplomatic, the quintessential Southern lady, always properly dressed as if going to church, resplendent with her ever-present pearls and earrings that complemented her beautiful blond and always perfectly coiffed hair.

She enchanted me with her stories, her memories, and friendly advice which helped me cope with life in my new country and my new family. Slowly she became my new family, more loving and accepting than any person could imagine or deserved.

Lois was a perfect homemaker who took pride in her two beautiful daughters and her husband, Harold, a WWII veteran of the Battle of the Bulge. His gardening and bird hunting were legendary, and she supported him with the love and care of seven decades of marriage.

Lois’ lovely home was always full of children, her daughters’ friends; they were welcome in her home, fed, and entertained in embracing ways that invited them back over and over. Laughter and joy, games, roller skating, movies, and going to Bible studies and church were particularly important in the Turners’ life.

A pillar of the Okolona community, Lois was an accomplished cook, florist, home decorator, nurse, mom, and wife. She always took care of someone else’s needs first and, if advice was not sufficient, she rolled up her sleeves to help.

Non-judgmental and fair, Lois imparted her wisdom to those who sought her help. Lois did not need a license to practice nursing and counseling – she was an expert because she had a giving and loving heart and a good listening ear.

Lois was most proud of her two lovely daughters whom she had later in life. She doted on them like they were delicate flowers and made sure they would turn into accomplished young women, which they did.

Her sit-down dinners were legendary, every detail attended to, and the food was delicious. She was famous for her upside-down pineapple cake.

Lois taught me how to survive in a society that was as different from mine as going to the moon. She listened, offered suggestions, recounted her experiences traveling to foreign lands like Portugal, and helped me understand the southern way of thinking and the southern culture.

Lois was my American mom and I always felt like I was coming home every time I drove to her home in Okolona. She welcomed me, and eventually my daughters, with open arms.

She nursed my wounds through a painful divorce and, when I remarried years later, welcomed my new husband into her home.

Lois always teased her husband who regaled us with his stories from WWII. Harold became a person we admired for his sacrifice to our country, for his kindness to total strangers he met during the war, strangers whom he fed in his military kitchen.

Lois had a unique talent to make her house a Home and Garden paradise in which friends and acquaintances were welcomed and fed. The only requirement was that they felt comfortable and at home.

Lois left this life on July 11, a few days after she celebrated 72 years of marriage to Harold on June 30. She has become truly the angel that she always was. She is probably teaching other angels in Heaven how to be better role models and more human just like she was with people who surrounded her because she was LOVE and GIVING, a perfect mom, wife, friend, and neighbor.

 

 

"Let's Exercise, So We Can Die Healthy"

When the university adopted a wellness program seven years ago, Maribel rallied the faculty with a humorous phrase that always brought laughter and smiles, even on the gloomiest days, “Let’s exercise, so we can die healthy.” Like a bundle of pent-up energy, Maribel walked really fast. I could barely keep up with her on our walks around the campus between classes. In spite of my pain, she always managed to make me laugh.

My colleague and friend of ten years loved making people happy with her cooking, a “joie de vivre.” With a master’s degree in Food Science, she knew the precise art of making cheese. As a teenager, she attended school in France with her mom, learned to speak French fluently, and studied the many varieties of French cheese. She never dreamed that someday she would teach French and Spanish to gifted students instead.

A native Venezuelan, Maribel prepared her famous paella for outdoor parties around the campus gazebo. There was always an excuse for another fiesta or a celebration that necessitated a party, cooking for a large crowd, and Maribel’s talent of bringing everybody together on a short notice and on a tight budget. The introduction of a new faculty member was a party with Maribel’s ham as the center piece, cooked slowly with Bourbon.

Maribel loved life and her students. She taught them to pursue their dreams, never give up, and to enjoy life to its fullest. A mentor and motivator, Maribel would give time, money, clothes, and advice to students who were less fortunate and had a strained family life. She made them comfortable enough that they confessed their problems and she offered solutions.

Speeding in her old white Toyota like a woman with a divine purpose and a ticket plastered to her windshield, Maribel would always arrive a few minutes late but always left long after all the faculty had cleared out, talking to students in hushed, soothing tones, probing to see how she could help them. In Venezuela, she used to say, you were not on time unless you were fifteen minutes late.

In her first teaching year, Maribel put up a beautiful Christmas tree in the lobby, without consulting the powers that be. After a letter of reprimand was put in her file and a verbal dress down, she happily continued to add decorations and secret Santa gifts under the tree, helped by students of various religions who enjoyed the Christmas tree as much as she did.

Every year, Maribel voluntarily raised thousands of dollars to help students have a memorable prom. She gave endless hours of her time in preparation for the fundraiser, the planning, and the execution.

The mother of three children and a devoted wife, Maribel found time to be a substitute mom to other people’s children who were not as lucky as hers. Her genuine care put students at ease and gave them comfort.

Always in pursuit of excellence, Maribel set out to become a nationally certified Spanish teacher. She did not give up after failing twice. On the first attempt, after building a year-long portfolio, she flew to San Antonio to deliver the project in person because she would have missed the deadline otherwise. She succeeded on the third try. Sadly, she did not get to earn much of the merit pay that came with the national certification.

Although a picture of health and seldom sick, Maribel was stricken by a rare form of cancer. She passed away last year in her beloved Venezuela, in the prime of her life, surrounded by friends and family, and mourned by hundreds of former students.

As her March 14 birthday approaches, I found a favorite picture that captures perfectly her wonderful spirit, her contagious smile, and her zest for life. Maribel’s generosity, love of children, of dancing, teaching, and cooking has touched so many along the way.

Because Maribel had never met a stranger, I imagine my friend with beautiful curly tresses and a sunny face, rolling up her sleeves and teaching angels in Heaven how to properly plan a fiesta and cook arepas.