Remembering Aunt Penny

Eulogy for Elizabeth (Penny) Pendleton Williams
Rev. Bill Neely
Neshoba Unitarian Universalist Church
Monday, August 17, 2009, 6 p.m.

I think that the first conversation I had with Penny Williams was about the atomic bomb. This was a couple of years ago, when the church and I were trying to figure out how to merge our ministries. There was a meet-and-greet gathering of some sort where I was walking around and chatting with people. They were getting to know me and I was getting to know them. Most people were asking me questions about whether or not I liked Memphis and if my spouse would work once we moved here. Some were asking about what she did for a living and many were giving us advice about which neighborhoods we should move into. It was nice, casual conversation among people who didn’t really know each other very well but were interested in getting to do so. It was gentle talk; very friendly, nothing too heavy.

But Penny quickly dropped the A-bomb into our “get-to-know-you” conversation. She got my attention and let me know that the Unitarian Universalist Association had a history of opposing nuclear proliferation and that just because no one talked about “nuc’s” very much anymore, that didn’t mean that they were less of a threat. She informed me that our social justice initiatives still had to address nuclear proliferation and we were failing as a church and a faith if we didn’t do so.

She then told asked me if I had heard of Thomas Starr King. He was a 19th century Universalist minister who was instrumental in keeping California inactive in the civil war, which was instrumental in leading to the Union’s victory in that war. I had just studied the good Reverend in seminary so I did know a bit about him, but Penny knew quite a bit more, and proceeded to supplement my education as I drank punch and ate cookies and listened. My first meeting with her, at least the first one I remember, involved social justice and our faith’s history. And I left the conversation knowing that I was going to enjoy spending time with Penny Williams a great deal. I like someone who cuts to the chase, who goes deep into the conversation, who assumes you can keep up, and who’ll drag you along if you don’t.

It’s hard to say good-bye to Elizabeth in part, because we know we’re saying good-bye to so much: so much passion and fire, so much intellect, so much leadership, so much love. And it’s also hard to say good-bye because the end felt sudden. Yes, she had been sick for a while, but she had also held on for a while, and while her prognosis was grim, she held stable in her condition for months, such that when the end came, it came suddenly, surprisingly, with a shock of sadness that still reverberates through her circles. We know that there comes a time for everyone when the gift of life is over. And yet when that ending comes, for those left to remember the deceased in love, the realness of the loss is profound and personal. This is the only way it can be, for it is the wage of loving someone and allowing them to love you. And it is the beginning of how the person lives on in our memories and circles of community, long after she has left this earth.

And as she has been called back to that place we all come from, we are left to appreciate her life and see how she continues to bless this world. No where is that seen more clearly than in her family; in her children who offered such beautiful eulogies, and in the tender, loving care that I’ve been privileged to see them offer their father, her husband, in these first few days after her death. Her love lives on in you, and I never, ever heard her speak of any of you without passion and pride in who’ve become. Her passion for justice and a better world was rooted, I believe, in her simply wanting the best for you.

Her love lives on in her grandchildren as well, of course. Penny was a typical grandparent in that when she spoke of her grandkids to me, she gushed a little bit. But she also spoke of responsibilities. It didn’t seem enough to her for one to be happy. One also had to be helpful, useful, a contributor in efforts to make the world a better place, and as your lives unfold, know that each time you do that, you honor your grandmother.

And she lives on in Bob, of course, as well. Her beloved partner for so long, with whom she created this beautiful family and their amazing life together. What a bounteous gift you given to this world, and even though Penny is gone, that gift still grows and lives one, and I hope you can find some respite, and some joy, in that.

We move into a changed world in these days, weeks, months, and years ahead. The world without her will be different than the world with her. Death forms life, and always touches life, and constantly changes life, so that we are always living in times of loss and birth. And we know that how we live matters. Penny knew that, and insisted that we do, too. How we live on this earth, among each other, matters not only to us, but to the generations to come. And our calling is to leave things better than we found them, and charge the future generations to do the same thing.

And Penny’s legacy for us is just that: to leave things better than we found them; to expand justice and work for the rights of the oppressed, to care for the earth and repair the damage that we have done to her; to learn about our history and heritage and pass those lessons on to those who follow us, to encourage not just intellectual development, but also the moral development of children. In her life she evidenced that we live not for ourselves alone, but everyone else as well, and as such we are called, by the examples of her glorious life to expand our senses of compassion and justice beyond whatever frontiers they currently occupy. She has been called to rest. But we not called to rest, yet. We are still called to work for the creation of the world that blesses everyone, equally.

And we are called by the example of her life to care for and love our family above all else; to enjoy the laughter and love that arises from those close to us; and to remember the roots of our heritage even as we teach the wings of children to soar to heights we’ll never reach. Penny was described as the rock of her family, but I think that the family was her rock. I think she found in you the love, support, and joy that enabled her to be the person she was. I think she was so committed, passionate, intelligent, and just, because you loved her that way. We are loved into being the best people we can be. She helped love you into your greatest qualities, and as you remember her, and hold her in your hearts, know that you also helped love her into being the wonderful, strong, passionate, and gifted woman that she was. She loved her into being her authentic self, and that was the greatest gift that you gave her.

And may we love each other that way and the rest of the world that way, for all of our days.

Let us pray,

Spirit of Life and Love,

We pray in gratitude for the life of Elizabeth Williams, who returns to the cradle of eternity having left us so blessed to have known and loved her. Even in this time of loss, we are aware of all that we have been given by knowing her, and for those blessings, we’re grateful. We pray for her family, that they may find support and connection in the coming days and years; that they may find themselves held and loved by a wide web of compassion and support. Be with them, and lead them to places of peace and serenity. And may our own lives reflect those wonderful gifts that Elizabeth employed: spirit, commitment, resilience, and love. May we reflect those gifts bountifully to all the children of creation, for all our days. May her spirit live on in us, and in her good works upon this world, and may we see her spirit in the people she loved so constantly during her days.

Amen.

All dressed up for the ballet at Kleinhan's Music Hall, Marge, Patrice, and Pat.

Aunt Penny introduced her neices to this cultural experience for March birthdays in 1961. Patrice was ten on the 28th. Marge was ten on the 29th. I was nine on the 29th.

Aunt Penny also took me to visit the Albright Knox Art Gallery for the first time to see a major exhibition of Vincent VanGogh and gave me my first art book.

She also made possible my first adventure in travel at age twelve when my friend, Peggy, and I took a Greyhound bus to visit Washington DC and share a bit of her pre-Marlo Thomas/Mary Tyler Moore single career-girl life.

At the time, Aunt Penny was the only unmarried woman with a job (besides a teacher) that I had encountered.

The highpoint of the visit was a specially-arranged tour of the White House by her friend (who worked there) and a wave from President Lyndon Johnson who noticed us from out in the Rose Garden.