I always thought I got my petite'ness from her. And I adored the way she baked and somehow kept up a 4 bedroom house. Here is a memorial I read about her at the funeral:
History of Lorraine’s Life
As remembered by Sarah Paxton, granddaughter.
Lorraine Katherine Borgman was born on August 6, 1923, in Grand Rapids, Michigan to Bernard
Borgman and Emma Maria Maichele. Bernard’s christened name was Ijzebrand Arend Borgman. It is no wonder he took on a shorter, “Bernard,” as the youngest of 16 children when he immigrated.
With Bernard’s first generation Dutch heritage and Emma’s second generation German heritage one could have taken a guess a long time ago that THIS little girl was going to have a VERY strong disposition. Born 9 years after her brother George, Lorraine grew up virtually as an only child, although she was the youngest of 4. Her oldest sister Lee was like mothers to her. As this beautiful olive-skinned, curly haired girl grew, she also grew accustomed to the harsh realities of life early on. Her parents divorced and she lived with her aunt Kate and her husband while her mother and sister worked to provide for her cleaning houses. She spoke of this often. It is no doubt that she felt abandoned. She carried this fear with her for the rest of her life.
Emma, her mother, who bore a striking resemblance to Lorraine, re-married Charles Hoover and Lorraine found love and stability. She said that he was like a real father to her and she called him Daddy. Lorraine kept their picture on her shelf prominently displayed for the past several years.
Lorraine also learned the value of hard work. She learned French in school and was valadvictorian of her class. Her friends called her "Rainey" and she reminisced in her yearbook of washing dishes in her high school. She learned the joys of cooking from her mother and loved her pies. Lorraine carried this tradition with her, and to all her family we knew that Lorraine was going to make the occasion special by bringing homemade pies.
Lorraine learned the value of gifts and gift giving. When she was growing up it was a huge treat to get an orange for Christmas, and as the years passed she tried to distance herself as much as possible from those depression-era memories. She loved holidays, birthdays, valentines day, mothers day, you name it, if it was on the calendar she was celebrating it. She loved going into Hallmark to pick the perfect card and chat with the ladies who worked there. They knew her by name, as did many of the places she frequented. She took pride in picking a gift based precisely on what the person wanted, their taste and what colors they enjoyed. Her son Roger, especially remembered the blue cake she made him for his birthday when he was little.
Out of all the things she learned, and all the gifts she gave and received, the gift she cherished the most over all the years was her marriage to Clyde Carl Culver on Feb. 28, 1943. Sixty nine years and one day before her death. The day before she passed was the only day in 23 years she was not well enough to put flowers on Clyde’s grave. She passed away the next day, exactly how she wanted.
Out of all the things she learned, she rarely drove (although I never saw it) because Clyde took her everywhere. They made the hard decision to get married without his mother’s blessing, and he worked on a dairy farm from 4 am until after dark. They soon decided dairy farming was not the life they wanted to lead. Clyde signed up for the Army during the horrors of WW2 in hopes he could get the GI bill and go to college. Lorraine went to live with her sister Lee. I asked her a few times what it was like to be away from her spouse and she didn’t make it seem like a big deal, once again showing strength of character. They wrote letters as often as they could – which wasn’t that often- and Clyde returned when the war was over. When he arrived he had night terrors and was afraid he would hurt her. But she never left their double bed – uncommon for those days.
Words cannot express the love and dependence they shared and how much she spoke of her
companion. They travelled the U.S. together, and moved several times while raising their two sons: Bruce born in 1950, and Roger, born in 1955. While talking about nursing babies she said both boys were huge babies and she could never feed them enough. She also told me several times of a miscarriage at 6 weeks between Roger and Bruce that maybe would have been her little girl. She found her little girl in her niece Karen, the daughter of Leona.
The family of 4 lived in Reed City, Lansing, Pontiac, Milford, Ohio, California and finally Rochester Hills. She loved decorating and picking out the perfect fixtures for her new homes.
Throughout the years photographs accumulated from dinners out and trips. Both things she could never have enough of. Her albums, daily journals and precise spending leave a vivid record of the who, what and when events of Lorraine’s life.
In the later years of her life she was an avid Phil Mickelson and Tigers fan, even staying up until the wee hours of the morning to finish west coast games. Often her nephew Tom would call after a game and say, “Did you see that!” which she always enjoyed and told me about. Lorraine and her son Bruce traded phone calls weekly, alternating who would call who, and she enjoyed updates on California living, something she always missed.
Lorraine loved her son Roger dearly. I have never heard her be so sincere for the selfless sacrifice he provided to her the past few difficult years of her life. She was always more worried about him than about herself. He heard all the complaints about her mortal body and tried to take them away as best as he could. More often than not, all he could do was listen. Which I know she appreciated.
Lorraine was always just a letter, a phone call, or a short car ride away for many of us. Her grandson Bryce faithfully called her weekly and also served in the “listening” role. She always loved giving him musical accessories and giving him a hard time about bringing the dog over. She bought her great granddaughters holiday dresses, and loved her great grandson. She worried about being around the kids with her fragile health, but her grandchildren and great grandchildren loved her. And she supported us unconditionally.
Grandma, I’m happy now that you will hear me when I talk to you in the kitchen when making dinner and know my thoughts. That you will see your posterity grow and not have to worry about the limitations of a feeble body. That you are free from the heart failure, kidney failure, diabetes, pokes, medication and dependence on others.
In the final, special occasion of celebration Lorraine’s life, there is no card needed. We want to publicly say that we love you. You are beautiful. You are special. You are smart. You are caring. You are important. You will forever have a special place in our lives.
Thank you for all the happiness you have given to us.
0 comments:
Post a Comment