Author: althea

March 14: Aunt Julie and Dad (and others!) have been hard at work planning Grandma’s funeral so it can be a good celebration of her life.  My cousin Max is putting together a slide show, and I went through my digital photos to look for some images to share.  These pictures are now in my gallery.
Grandma’s obituary follows below…

MONROE – Lucille Evelyn Babler, 86 (less 7 hours), died peacefully on March 10, 2008, at the Monroe Manor Nursing Home, Monroe, Wisconsin. She became a resident there in mid-December while she recovered from hip-replacement surgery. In late February while still recovering, she was unexpectedly diagnosed with stomach cancer and became a patient of Hospice.

Lucille was born on March 11, 1922, in Deaconess Hospital in Monroe, Wisconsin, to Herman and Helen (nee Kelly) Krueger. She attended Countryside elementary school until the third grade, St. Victor’s from third through eighth grade, and graduated from Monroe High School in 1940. Lucille was married to Myron Jacob Babler, also of Monroe. She has four children, seven grandchildren, and nine great grandchildren.

As a child, Lucille wanted to be a ballerina. While she didn’t realize that dream, her life became a dance that expressed a profound story—filled with serious challenges, moments of great joy, and many personal achievements. Her husband, her family, her friends, and her church provided the music to which she danced. She quietly wove a wonderful life story, and her ability to meet life’s challenges was a testament to her strength and character.

When she was eight years old, her mother contracted tuberculosis, which eventually institutionalized her. This occurred during the Depression era, and she and her four younger siblings were too much for her farm-worker father to handle alone. As was common at the time, relatives helped to raise the children.

Blanche and Henry Rinehardt of Monroe asked Lucille to live with them. Henry was a carpenter, and they lived on a small rural farm on Smock Valley Road with one cow for milk and hand-churned butter and chickens for eggs and meat. Their home was lit by kerosene lamps and heated by a wood-burning furnace. Water came from a hand-pumped well, cooking was by wood stove, and the bathroom was the outhouse. The radio ran on an old car battery and was always tuned to WLS for the “Barn Dance” on Saturday nights. The Rinehardts treated Lucille as their daughter, were good to her, and protected her. Their daughter, Celeste, became her lifelong friend, and when Celeste married, Lucille was in high school and lived with her.

Rinehardt’s farm was located about a mile from Monroe, and Lucille walked to St. Victor’s school most every school day. On the weekends she loved to go to movies or roller-skating with her Aunt Mert and friends Charlene and Gen, and she often stayed with her Grandma Kelly overnight. If they didn’t have enough money to continue skating on Sunday, they’d watch from the balcony.

Lucille visited her mother Helen at Pinehurst Sanitarium in Janesville until her mother’s death in 1940. They sat in a room with the windows opened and couldn’t hug or touch each other. Helen did her best to advise her, but the situation was hard for both of them.

Helen was spiritual and wanted Lucille to be brought up in the faith, so Blanche was ultimately responsible for Lucille’s lifelong association with St. Victor’s Catholic Church. Lucille was baptized, received confirmation, and was married there. She loved St. Victor’s, went to church nearly every day after her children were grown, and volunteered in many ways.

Lucille met the love of her life in April 1941 when Helen Rinehardt asked her to go see a band with her and her husband Harlan, plus their friend Myron (“Mike”). Lucille had admired Mike from a distance while he worked as an usher at the Goetz Theater. Mike wasn’t pleased to have this extra girl coming along, but by the end of the evening he had changed his mind and immediately began dating her. They quickly fell in love. Unable to wait for Christmas, he proposed marriage to her hours before Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941. They were married on April 18, 1942—one year to the day after meeting.

For a short time after the wedding, they lived in Joliet, Illinois, where Mike worked at the war plant. In July 1942, Mike was drafted into the Army. She got to see him three times while he was in training: during Christmas 1942 when he came home (surviving a train derailment during the journey), in the spring of 1943 in Palacois, Texas (where they stayed in a cabin with hundreds of cockroaches), and in early fall when he came to Monroe on a three-day pass.

On Thanksgiving Day 1943, Mike called to ask her to meet him in New York City. She went and after three days of waiting for him, she received a heavily censored note saying he was quarantined on a ship. She had to leave. He shipped out to the European Theatre, and she left for Monroe.

During the war Lucille stayed with Mike’s parents, Emma and Jacob Babler, in their apartment near the square in Monroe. Emma treated her like a daughter. Lucille held a job with Lakeshire-Marty wrapping butter, and another working at the AAA office. She went to almost every movie and reconnected with her sister Naomi. They served as each other’s bridesmaids, and their friendship continued to grow.

After more than three years in the service and earning three purple hearts, Mike returned. At last they could build a life together. They moved into their own home in 1949, where they spent the rest of their lives raising their family of four and enjoying each other’s company. In April 2007, they celebrated their 65th anniversary.

Lucille’s children and grandchildren will remember her for her love of home and family; thoughtful, loving personality; quiet strength; great laugh (and their desire to make her laugh); ability to truly listen; famous seasonal sugar cookies; hand-decorated birthday cakes; annual handmade Christmas ornaments; sewing, knitting, and needlework; flower and vegetable gardens; her love of ginkgo trees and nature, animals and bird watching; James Herriot books and reading; an immaculately kept house; Saturday night root beer floats; her love of Perry Como, Willie Nelson, and John Denver; doing jigsaw puzzles; watching Johnny Carson; her need to “sleep on it” when it came to decision making and processing change; her rock-solid stability; her tireless work at St. Victor’s counting the collections, arranging flowers, washing linens, and helping at school; her years as a Girl Scout troop leader; her thousands of hours of work with the Apostolate to the Handicapped, including helping with mailings, office work, and events; and her appreciation of the basic joys of life.

Lucille is survived by her four children: Kim Babler of Madison; Gary Babler of Stoughton; Scott (Marcia) Babler of Libertyville, Illinois; and Julie (Kevin) of California. She is also survived by her sisters, Naomi (Oliver) Miller of Brodhead and Helen Kundert of South Prairie, Washington; seven grandchildren; and nine great grandchildren.

She was preceded in death by her husband Myron on October 30, 2007; her parents, Herman and Helen Krueger; two brothers, Max and Virgil; and her daughter-in-law Margot (nee Davis) Babler on August 31, 2007.

A visitation will take place on Sunday, March 16, at Newcomer Funeral Home, 1329 31st Avenue, Monroe, from 5–7 p.m., with a prayer service at 7 p.m. The family also invites you to a funeral to celebrate her life on Monday, March 17, at 10:45 a.m. at St. Victor’s Catholic Church, 1760 14th Street, Monroe. Memorials may be made to the Diocese of Madison Apostolate to the Handicapped, 515 22nd Avenue, Box 443, Monroe, WI 53566-0443, 608-324-1000. An online obituary and guest book are available at www.newcomerfuneralhome.net.

March 10: I got a call from my dad this evening with news that my grandma passed away this afternoon.  Her 86th birthday is tomorrow.

Dad was with her as were two of his siblings, my Aunt Julie and Uncle Scott.  She declined much more quickly than we thought she would, but perhaps that was a blessing for her.  I’ve been trying to get my head around the fact that she’s gone. It’s a really odd feeling to have these people who have always been such constants in life be gone.

Since Mom, we’ve lost Bryan’s grandpa, Dandy; my grandpa; Terry’s dad, Forry; and now my grandma.  I’ve had enough.  Looking at little Sylvia’s tiny hands and feet and newborn movements, it’s amazing to think that she’s at the beginning of the life cycle that Grandma has just ended.  I’m really glad they were able to meet.