Evelyn

Evelyn Zwicker was Uncle John’s wife. She was “The IT Girl,” according to her Marshfield, High School, year book—she was in Vake’s class. She was warm-hearted and outgoing—she could play the piano and  dance the “Charleston.” I recall her as being statuesque, with perfectly styled, strawberry blonde hair.  My memories of her are all warm ones, except for the painful recollections of her grueling death from breast cancer.

            Jon reports, “One thing Dad was very proud of, was that the house he and Mom lived in was built (& fully paid for) at the time Dad & Mom married & moved in.  Of course, during his procrastination (?), Mom had gone off and married Johnny Spicer, a 'fancy dressing mama's boy,' hotel clerk, in Coquille (description from cousin Thelma). Luckily for the Sampsons, that was only a practice marriage.

          Milly said that after Pearl Harbor, Johnnie enlisted in the military, but Evelyn went to the recruiter’s office and revealed that Johnnie was a bleeder—and he was discharged at once. Instead, he worked at “Camp White” near Medford, OR, building a military training center.

          Evelyn and Johnnie had two sons, Jon and Dean, but wanted a little girl. They adopted Patricia Anne, born January 4, 1947 at Grants Pass, OR.  Milly went to the hospital with Evelyn to pick up the baby when it was time to bring her home. Milly saw a petite red-head leaving the hospital just as the two of them arrived, and wondered whether the woman were Patty’s birth mother, especially when Patty grew into a petite red-head with dazzling  green eyes.

          Evelyn was connected to the community, and had Patty and me appointed to be “train bearers” for the Junior Rhododendron Queen when we were both in the first grade. A newspaper photograph showed us dressed in organdy party dresses, I with chin in hand, elbow on knee, knees splayed, looking exquisitely bored. Evelyn  saw to it that Patty had lessons to supplement her public school education, in baton, tap dancing, accordion, and piano. She took Patty, Sandy, and me to Portland on a business trip so we could experience staying in a hotel and watching a parade in downtown Portland.  She dressed Patty and me in Easter bonnets to have our picture taken, and expressed exasperation  when I dribbled chocolate ice cream on my shirt just before the picture was taken. “Judas Priest!” she would say. At Christmas, she turned Patty’s hair into a smooth page boy, sprayed it with hairspray, and sprinkled it with glitter.

          Johnnie joined the Masons, and Evelyn joined Eastern Star. He was also the Grand Exalted Ruler of the local Elks Club.  As Grand Exalted Ruler, he rode in the annual Florence Rhododendron Parade in a convertible. As he cruised by, Evelyn was standing in the crowd, and shouted out, “It’s the Grand Exhausted Rooster!”

         Jon adds, “Mom was also a 'Cave Woman,' (auxiliary member of the Cave Men from Grants Pass) . I have a picture of her in furs, in a group - all in furs (not politically correct lately)!  Remember the 'Vine Maple Savages,' I think from Mapleton or Swiss Home, who used to 'capture' parade bystanders and put them in a cage on wheels? 

          Evelyn was the local director for the Girl Scouts at the time somebody stole the brass bell that was used to signal the Scouts to assemble at the main lodge at Camp Cleowax.  The whole time, it was in her garage, where her son Dean had stolen and secreted it.  During one of our troop’s camp-outs, somebody said unkind words to Patty about being adopted. Aunt Evelyn very gently explained that most people are stuck with whatever children they bear; Patty was chosen.

          Evelyn hosted family festivities, and introduced the group to new, festive foods. She showed the kids how to pull taffy. “The gray pieces are from kids with dirty hands,” I heard her explain.  She introduced the adults to artichokes, and explained how to dip a leaf in butter, then scrape off the meat with one’s teeth. And she’s the one who gave the family the original recipe for Party Mix, with both Cheerios (Betty Crocker) and Chex Mix (General Mills) that you never see in the same recipe any more. Sure, you can buy Party Mix prefabricated, but the herbs and spices have been toned down (no more savory salt), and it just isn’t as good.

          On the rare occasion of snow in Florence, Evelyn took Patty, Sandy and me to Honeyman Park to slide down the big sand dune on a “flying saucer” sled. It was so much fun that she insisted that Milly join us. Milly sat on the saucer while I held on, but I lost my grip on it, and she went flying down the hill, dragging her elbows like brakes the whole way.  

          Evelyn welcomed people to her home.  Jon brought  a college friend, Bill Sato, home for a holiday. People remarked because Bill, from Hawaii, was Japanese. “Evelyn is tolerant,” they said, but that word isn’t adequate for her warmth.

          It was the late 1950s. Her breast cancer was treated with surgery, then with cobalt radiation.  She had to travel to Portland for treatments, and took an apartment there during the course of her treatment.  She promptly befriended others in the apartment building. After treatment, she returned home, but then Milly ran into her on her way to the doctor’s office, upstairs over the Western Auto store that she and Johnnie operated. Evelyn burst into tears. She had found more masses in her chest. Milly hoped out loud that maybe it was just stitches coming to the surface, but that was not to be. As Evelyn wasted away, Vake installed grips in her bathtub so she could lower herself into the water to help alleviate her pain. “It’s because her bones are breaking,” Dr. Uhlmann explained.   As she lay on her sickbed one day, family friend Duncan LaChapelle came to visit, sat on the edge of her bed, and burst out in tears. Her condition was terminal; everybody knew that and feared that, but nobody spoke it out loud. Instead, he said “Evelyn, you have to do something about your hair!”

          As she became weaker, she had to move into the hospital for 24-hour care, and became increasingly feeble.  But one day when Vake and Milly came to visit, Evelyn was sitting up in a wheelchair and spinning up and down the hall, checking in with other patients, making friends and spreading cheer. “That’s just like Evelyn,” they said. It was not recovery; it was the last burst of energy that is said to visit people who are terminally ill. The next day she was gone.