A LOVING MEMORY...

Cynthia Eyre Kiser
April 1951 - July 2020

It's always startling news to find out that someone I know who is younger than I am has passed away.  My nephew Paul Eyre called me the other day and left a message.  "Call me as soon as you can.  I have some sad news I don't want to share in a voice mail."  Of course I called immediately after hearing that message. 

Paul told me his sister Cynthia had died, but not of COVID-19.  I was thankful for that small detail, but also saddened with the unexpected news.  Later Paul shared with me the details of Cynthia's funeral which her son Kyle was planning.  Kyle had asked Paul to give "the gospel talk" about the Plan of Salvation, and also asked if I would give a 10 minute "loving memory" about Cynthia during the service.  A zoom meeting--the virtual/online meetings we have right now.  Funeral in Rawlins.  Paul in Texas.  Me in Colorado.  Other family members in other states.  It is now the norm.  Life is so different!

I shared in my last post the dilemma I had about remembering something--anything--as Cynthia and I had not even spoken to each other in the 21st century.  Even after memory prompts from some family journals, I was only able to write a couple of paragraphs before going to bed one night discouraged with my inability to write something--anything.

I woke up about 1 a.m. thinking about this assignment and lay there for an hour, again wondering just how I was going to pull it off.  I got out of bed.  I went upstairs to the computer.  But before I sat down, I kneeled down and prayed, "Help me write something that will bring a modicum of comforting happiness to Cynthia's family."  By 5:30 a.m. I had  typed the last sentence, then proofread what I had written and felt satisfied my prayer had been answered.  My words must have rung true to Cynthia's family because her son Kyle told Paul that evening after the funeral, "Georgia's story and closing prayer reminded me of days past and how much I miss my family!"   I was glad!

Here is what I shared at the funeral:

“A LOVING MEMORY” 

OF MY NIECE CYNTHIA EYRE 

My pretty sister Marie married Keith Eyre when I was only three, and they moved into a brand-new little house just two blocks down the street from our family home in Rawlins.  Oh, that was such a fun place to visit with its glass-door kitchen cupboards which displayed colorful dishes and a delightful collection of pepper and salt shakers.  Plus, Marie and Keith had a furry black little Cocker Spaniel named Smokey that was fun to play with.

Then one day Marie told the family she was “expecting”.  What exciting news!  We could hardly wait during the several months that followed.  Finally, that long-awaited day arrived, and Cynthia was born on April 16, 1951.  I hadn’t even started school yet.  Yet here I was aunt at the tender age of five to a beautiful baby girl, who as the first grandchild in the Melvin Reed and Maude Marie Crane Huggins Family, was way more than just another baby come to earth.  She was OUR baby.  Our very own little Huggins grandchild.

This baby’s arrival had been happily anticipated, even though we didn’t know if Marie was going to have a boy or a girl.  We were just excited we were going to have a new baby in the family.  But, we did know that if Marie’s new little baby was a girl, her name was going to be “Cynthia”.  I don’t remember if Marie and Keith had picked any boy names.  Didn’t matter.  We got our cute little girl doll named Cynthia.

In those days—the early 50’s—little girls played house with dolls as their pretend children.  And now, here was this live baby doll for us to play with when my sister Marie came up 8th Street those two blocks to visit Grandpa and Grandma Huggins.  

Cynthia was such a sweet baby to hold, take turns feeding and even change her CLOTH diaper.  I was so proud when we went to church to turn back the soft blankets and show off my little niece to everyone. Marie up-combed Cynthia’s hair into a little wisp on the top of her head, kind of like a Kewpie Doll.  And in addition to the feminine little dresses with rumba pants underneath (In case you don’t know, those were ruffled plastic covers for the cloth diapers), she wore cute little footed pajamas.  It was just like dressing a doll!

When it was meal time at Grandpa and Grandma’s, Cynthia sat in the old wooden family high chair right by Grandpa Huggins who would make sure she had a proper supper.  He would say, “Get this baby some meat!” as we all laughed because that baby didn’t even have any teeth! And Grandma Huggins would tie a clean dish cloth around Cynthia’s neck as a bib to make sure she didn’t soil her pretty little dress.  Talk about queen for a day!  We all loved to see the baby eat, making faces at some unfamiliar food or picking up a stray morsel on the tray with her tiny fingers that could zero in on the tiniest crumb.

When Cynthia was about a year old, her father’s employment at Tri-State Lumber in Rawlins transferred the family to Garland, Utah, for a short time.  Oh, how we missed baby Cynthia.  When we had a chance finally to go visit, here was baby Cynthia all grown up, walking and talking like a little girl!

Fortunately, Keith's work away from Rawlins brought them back again about a year later.  It was so nice to have the Eyres home—in their same little house where it was so convenient for me to stop in and rest on my way walking home from Church.  Just couldn’t get enough of that little girl who was more like my own little sister.  We would play together at my home, too, long hours down the basement where the doll furniture and play dishes were, along with my doll buggy which we would wheel around the neighborhood.

I didn’t get to be the official baby sitter, though for a long time.  One of my older sisters was right in line for that very responsible job when Cynthia’s parents Marie and Keith would go out for the evening.  First it was Glenda.  Then a few years later after Glenda grew up, Marcie got to be the real babysitter.  And a few years after that when Marcie was involved in other activities, it was my opportunity to tend Marie’s kids. Cynthia and now her little brother Paul, too.  Every Tuesday night when Keith and Marie went to the movies, I got to be the babysitter.

As time went by, Cynthia grew into the little school girl I’ll always remember wearing pigtails.  When she would come the two blocks up the street to visit, Grandpa Huggins would quiz Cynthia about school, and when she answered Grandpa would tell her she was a “sharp tack”. He called her Cynthie-girl.  Grandma Huggins was so proud of her, too.  She always had a little treat of mints tucked into the dishtowel drawer in the kitchen to share with Cynthia.

More years went by.  The Eyres moved into the big house on the lot when Keith’s mother passed away.  I loved to have sleep overs there because Cynthia’s room was in the attic!  We didn’t have an upstairs in our house, and having an attic room seemed like something straight out of the books I read.  You could look out the window and see the cars go by.  In time it was looking out the window with Cynthia to see if her boyfriend was driving by.  By then I was in college and she was enjoying high school.

Elementary school, junior high, high school.  Cynthia was not too far behind me all the way.  During those years there were a lot of memories of school programs, birthday parties, and holiday get-togethers.  I also have a lot of memories of being in the Snowy Range with my parents who were Grandpa and Grandma and Keith and Marie and Cynthia and Paul.

It was Cynthia I took to Denver with me for a visit after I graduated from College and accepted a job there.  Ross and I were planning to be married by then, so he took us all over Denver to show Cynthia around.  We had such a good time that weekend.

Cynthia got married herself the following year, and I was lucky enough to be visiting in Rawlins when Amy was born.  Our baby had a baby! 

After that there wasn’t much opportunity to spend time with Cynthia as her own family grew and so did mine.  Plus we lived in Denver.  I remember fleeting visits  in and out as Cynthia came by Marie’s to pick up her kids.  But I am sorry to say, there were never again the opportunities to sit down and really get to know each other, this time as adults talking about parenting or work or family.  We missed out on a lot not being able to do that.  However, I cherish those special first years with the family’s first grandchild, my little niece.  Nothing will ever replace those memories.

Though all of you remember Cynthia as the responsible woman and mother she became, I will always remember Cynthia as the cute little girl who was my first niece and my playmate for so many years.

I invite you to reflect on your own loving memories of Cynthia, either as sibling, mother, aunt, co-worker, or friend and be grateful for her example to you in so many different ways that have enriched your life.  It will be that legacy which will stand as a monument to her turn on earth.  Let that be comfort for your deep loss at this time.

 

CORRECTION!

My 69 year old niece Cynthia Eyre died a few days ago.  Her son Kyle asked me to give a 10 minute "Loving Memory" of her at the virtual funeral held for her yesterday in my hometown of Rawlins, Wyoming, where Cynthia lived for her entire life.

I was honored that Kyle would choose me to say a few personal words about Cynthia, but it has literally been years since I had even seen her.  I think at her dad's funeral in 1998 was the last time.

A flood of thoughts came to mind as I contemplated this assignment, one of which was, "What could I say that would be relevant since our association in later years was pretty nil?"  

So, I went to the family's personal history books and began to read.  As I perused those pages, images and memories surfaced until I could finally put to paper something that would reflect a small glimpse of Cynthia's early years as the first Huggins grand child...and my special place as aunt to a babe when I wasn't much more than a baby myself.

However, in that perusing of personal family histories, I found out that I had incorrectly related the story about my sister Marie's wedding in a blog I wrote in June 2019.

You might recall I wrote about our night stranded in the car during a horrendous flood-producing rainstorm and being rescued by the forest rangers the next morning then treated to a pancake breakfast at the nearby ranger station.

Only as I read, I realized I had put that event BEFORE Marie's wedding instead of AFTER the ceremony at the Idaho Falls Temple in June 1949.  By the time my parents and I, and possibly a couple of my sisters, had this hairy sleepover in the car, Marie and Keith were long gone on their honeymoon to the Black Hills.

Just wanted to set the record straight.  

Let this be a lesson to you:  DON'T GET OLD!  The old memory ain't what it used to be.  And THAT, dear Readers, is why we are admonished to WRITE DOWN and RECORD our personal history.  

I learned this little proverb years ago when I was teaching a lesson on journal writing.  Still holds true.

THE PALEST INK IS BETTER THAN THE STONGEST MEMORY....