Cathie Peck’s Eulogy
January 24, 2025
We thought over who should welcome you and thank you for coming. You honor us with your presence, but best, you honor Mom. Since I have risen a little closer to the top of the family tree, I was a pretty strong candidate. Another plus was my realization that I have known her almost the longest of those gathered here today. Her much-loved twin sister, Beverly, is with us, she has known her back nine months before birth, so definitely the longest, 95+ years! Dad’s brother, Jim, comes in second, I think about six when he met her, so 79 years. And I, at 72, am a very close third. So, with those qualifications, I welcome you, many from afar: Vermont, Texas, New Mexico, San Francisco, San Carlos, Sacramento, Stockton, and Mom’s favorite home town, Modesto. You are here because you are family, in the best possible way, and you knew Mom, even if just a little.
With Mom’s death, I found myself diving into a life that had been very much considered, but maybe not at quite the same caliber now that she is no longer with us. As I looked through her things, and some of my own, squirreled for when one can take the time, I came across a booklet put together by my cousin, Ann, upon the death of Mom’s mother, Reetha, in 1995 at age 92. As I read this very sweet and tender collection of memories, I was struck by the continuum we are all on within our families.
Characteristics of my mom popped up throughout the pages, those passed on from her mother and father and surely, greats and great-greats. Her mother and father met at McPherson college in Kansas where Reetha’s dad was president. (Coincidentally, Bill’s dad also went to school there!) She thought, in her words, “Paul was just the ticket, a dashing football star and outstanding scholar.” They were quickly an item. Paul once rigged a phone between their dormitory rooms with two tin cans and a cord, allowing long conversations into the evening.
Reetha’s father was transferred to the presidency of LaVerne College in 1923, and the family moved to the small southern California town. Paul followed Reetha. They both completed college and he went on to get his master’s degree at USC. They were married in 1925.
I was taken by their seemingly passionate and immediate courtship, knowing each was ‘the one’ and how similar to Mom and Dad, though high school, not college. From the time they began dating, he a senior and she a sophomore, they were an item, and what followed kept them connected till marrying in 1948.
Though both of Mom’s parents hailed from the fundamentalist Church of the Brethren, Paul displayed his streak of independence early. Though he followed his mother’s wishes to study at a church college, the attempt to stay within the church conflicted with his passion for science and ultimately could not be reconciled with the fundamentalism of the church. Early in his marriage, when he taught Sunday School, he explained that the seven days of the creation were analogous to the eras of Earth’s evolution. This did not amuse the elders and he was removed as a Sunday School teacher. This essentially ended any formal connection with organized religion.
Reetha’s independence was displayed when she bobbed her long hair at the age of 20, much to her father’s dismay. She used to sneak out to the movies and play cards, all being raised during a time when even wearing jewelry of any kind was pretentious, and Reetha’s mother did not have a wedding ring until a few years before she died.
This independence was strong in Mom. She was clear in her beliefs, a strong and early believer in women’s rights. She was not overly vocal, though firm in her convictions. As I earlier said, I looked at all of this with new eyes. Who knew that when she raised three daughters during the rebellious Sixties, when we thought we were forging new territory, it was all old-hat in many ways!
She was the strongest person I knew. She cared and loved Dad with loyalty and respect. She never complained never played the ‘Mommy needs a nap card” or used the excuse of being too tired to cook a meal or complete a chore. Until his dying day, when I stopped by, they would be deep in conversation. It amazed me how they continued to have so much to talk about! They set the standard for what’s possible in a relationship.
Growing up in the depression lent to Mom’s very practical, no-nonsense side. Dinners were spare by our standards. A common meal was a baked apple and a baked potato. All vegetables were canned. When the war started, coupons were offered and one was for meat. They began including more meat in their diet due to rationing, a good example of how public policy can improve lives.
Mom loved to swim and it was a source of pride, and rite of passage when we could swim with her to the logs, now buoys, at Pinecrest Lake, and swim across Twain Harte Lake to the big rock. She set many wonderful examples to challenge ourselves and continually encouraged and fanned our interests. I can’t even estimate how many miles she must have driven, taking me out in the country for riding lessons, later renting a horse trailer and driving to shows.
She played bridge and tennis regularly, then added in art lessons. She was an impressive drawer and had saved incredible horse drawings kept high in a closet in my bedroom. I was very young, but remember still how in awe I was of these on the rare occasion she took them down. They reminded me of the beautiful horses in one of my favorite books, Black Beauty. She also made the best paper dolls that entertained me for hours.
Her artistic side blossomed as you will see in many of her works when we convene at her house. Another of her passions was gardening. From the time we were very young, she would be hard at work planting beautiful gardens. With the Pacific Grove house and mountain cabin the first thing she did was design and plant, add-to and create colorful, bright yards. This was not by phone call. She lugged the soil, fetched the plants, and dug in.
Mom’s glass was half full. She started the day with a smile on her face. Even in her last couple years, during the long good-bye, she was cheerful and truly grateful and appreciative of where she was, the friends around her and those who cared for her.
When she said her knee hurt and wondered why, I’d say, “Well, Mom, you are 95!” And she’d say “95!!!” “Now, when did that happen?!” Well, it happened while she lived, really lived, a life to be proud of, an inspiration to those of us in her shadow, where she left us with gifts we will be unwrapping in these times and generations to come.