Eulogy for Pearl Piper, 7 Sep 2014:
A eulogy is where a person is praised and honored, particularly if they just died. What I really want to do is talk about my mother’s life a bit, as she told me and as I witnessed. Being as I am the unofficial family historian, you can be assured that some of this is bound to be true.
Mom always said she had the happiest childhood ever. Tracy Kidder had written, “If you had an essentially happy childhood, that tends to dwell with you.” Her childhood defined Mom’s life. I always said Mom reminded me of Shirley Temple - forever that child - but she was so much more than just that.
There were two people closest to Mom over her life: her dad and her older sister, Margaret.
Mom was born in Alameda in on September 9th, 1923. She always said that her birthday was always celebrated as a holiday in California – Admissions Day.
It was the Roaring Twenties and Prohibition was in full force when she was born. Mom always talked about the house in Alameda. Her dad and his brothers, Virginians by birth, were quite fond of their beverages. They made and stored the beverages of their choice in the basement, covering them up in homemade root beer. Mom would talk of the many parties they would host. Of course, the local law enforcement would come to their door to ask them to quiet down, but more often than not the officers would join the party. It was in this atmosphere that Mom and Margaret were raised; and from their father developed their adult personalities that we all came to love.
The family moved to Stockton around 1928 where Mom’s dad was a baker at Graven-Inglis with his brothers. Uncle Jeff founded Webb’s Bakery where Mom later worked and for the rest of it’s existence Mom frequented to feed her donut addiction. Her famous addiction lasted the rest of her life.
Mom was a tomboy. Her home was on Main Street near Pilgrim where there was a firehouse around the corner – both buildings still exist. There Mom learned to play baseball and I have to assume that is where she acquired her fondness for firemen. Mom was also a cat person. Her mother was a cat person. Margaret was a cat person. Throughout her life there was always a cat. If you wanted Mom to enjoy a movie, show her one with a cat in it. She was so much a cat person she repeatedly tried to deduct her cat’s vet expenses on her taxes.
In the 1930’s motor touring vacations were popular among those lucky enough to afford it. Grandma May, having been orphaned at age 18 was the carefree and adventurous type. Grandma May, Estel, Margaret and Mom periodically piled into the car with May behind the wheel and would go on trips. Mom spoke of going to Carroll County, Virginia, to attend the Webb family reunions. There she met her many cousins, as her dad was one of 14 children. We kids were fortunate that in 1962 Mom and Dad took us there to meet the cousins as well, and until recently, Mom maintained correspondence with her many relatives in the east on her dad’s side, and some on her mom’s side in the northwest.
In the late 1930s the Webbs traveled to Mexico where Mom was serenaded by local boys… that is, until Grandma yanked her back in. On the way back Mom met a boy in New Mexico and they took a liking to each other. Many years later, Mom confessed they were engaged. It was Grandma May that told Mom that the boy had joined the Navy as a musician and he died on the Arizona. I researched it for Mom several years ago and found this was not him. Yes, a musician sailor of that name died on the Arizona, but in truth this young man died on a long forgotten island in the South Pacific. Mom had kept a photo of him as remembrance.
Mom attended Stockton High School graduating in 1940 and attended Stockton College graduating in 1942. But she was convinced by the professor heading the engineering department in the College of the Pacific to become his secretary where she served as the secretary for the college signal corps in 1940. It was in 1942 that Mom married a handsome young man who was to become a fireman before joining up for the war. The story goes she first saw him on a motorcycle following her on the streetcar.
Before Dad shipped overseas Mom did go back to Kentucky to be with him while he was at Camp Campbell in the Tank Corps. We were again fortunate on the 1962 trip to go through Kentucky and meet Mom’s old landlady from the war.
Mom became an institution at COP, now UOP. She knew and worked with the pioneers of that university: Tully C. Knoles, Bob Burns, Elliott Taylor, Les Medford, and many more I don’t even recall.
Mom was a friendly face to students from abroad. These kids would get lonely particularly during the holidays. Mom always made sure they were OK and invited many of them home for holiday meals. Many of these kids became life long friends, never forgetting her kindness and caring.
Bob Burns, the university president, used to see Mom on campus and yell “Pee Pee!” from across the grounds. It just drove her crazy and she would tell him, “My middle initial is E, call me PEP”, to no avail. She even resorted to putting her initials on her car door, hoping it would convince him. He didn’t notice.
Which brings me to: Mom was also cool on campus. She had a 1965 Mustang… yellow. It was a classic. And just when you thought she could not be any cooler, she goes and gets a 1969 Black Mustang… with a red racing stripe! With a 351 under the hood. Kids would stop her and ask if it was hers, and then ask if she was willing to sell it. She didn’t until a few years later to a kid who thought he had died and gone to heaven as it was in mint condition with low mileage!
Mom loved to drive – she inherited this trait from her mother as a result of the depression era motor tours. Her biggest disappointment in life was 3 and half years ago when it was time to take her driver’s license away. She had been ill and she drove with a lead foot, but her reflexes were slowing. We felt so guilty doing this as she would constantly remind us of how she loved driving.
When we were kids and Dad was working on a weekend, Mom would load us up in the car and we would head down county roads on some new adventure. Whether it be stomping around some overgrown cow pasture looking for ghost town ruins or searching for Joaquin Murietta’s gold. We were sure to have fun. But Mom wasn’t entertaining us, this was her adventure, too. She was sure someday we would find the gold. To this day I have a love of California history thanks to these adventures, particularly the legends of the old Mother Lode.
Mom had another adventure she enjoyed. Over time she liked to sneak off to Tahoe to gamble. Dad would be at home and Mom would tell him she was going with her friend Jeanine and Dad’s mother to Sacramento to shop. They would run up to Sacramento, buy something – anything – to prove they had shopped. Then they would drive up to Tahoe to gamble all day. Dad was never the wiser. His own mother thought it was hilarious.
Indian casinos were invented for Mom and her gambling cronies. It shortened the travel time thereby maximizing the gambling time. I always saw Mom as a professional gambler. She specialized in one machine, and if some poor soul was on HER machine – God help them. Mom would proudly proclaim her winning victories. The losses were long forgotten, but what she could do with a slot machine was amazing.
I want to go back to her university life.
The 1966 Naranjado has a picture of Mom, but it is the caption that is telling: “Pearl Piper, Administrative Secretary to the Dean of Admissions and the Scholarship Committee, is accorded faculty privileges because of the extreme importance of her position”. If anything, this understated her influence as I can personally attest.
Erma Bombeck said, "When your mother asks, 'Do you want a piece of advice?' it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway."
When I was in the 8th grade, Mom sat me down to go through my high school curriculum – every semester for the next 4 years. I was allowed one optional course, and that was it. She said it was college prep, or something like that.
Well, college didn’t start out well and I ended up dropping out. The first one I went to was Mom in her office. She didn’t try to talk me out of it, but instructed how to do it. A year later, I called her and told her I wanted to re-apply when I came home. Mom informed me casually that I was already re-admitted. I was thinking of engineering so Mom scheduled an appointment with Dean Heyborne. I was asked only one question in the interview: “What is your major?” This told volumes, of my mother’s influence and I thank her for being patient with me, and getting me a second opportunity for an education.
Mom would go on to work at UOP for a total of 46 years. She finally retired in 1986. The University on its part awarded my mother The Order of Pacific. This award is the highest University award to be given for service and commitment in the university community.
Retirement did not slow Mom down. Well into the last years of her life she was an active member of not only the university community, but in other community activities. She volunteered at the Haggin Museum once a week and was instrumental in their annual “Mad Hatter’s Tea Party”. Instrumental is a bit understated - she would obsess on it. At the University she continued to work at the John Muir Center with administrative work, membership and published their newsletter and piqued her interest in the life of this important naturalist in preserving the natural beauty of the west.
Mom worked with her long time friend and colleague, Doris Meyer in the University Emeriti Society. Together, they, and folks like Leslie Medford and many others, tried to capture the history of the University. I recommend the oral interviews to anybody interested. I want to thank Doris for her hard work in preserving this and making it available.
One item from the oral interview really explains how Mom viewed the world. Doris asked her about the social issues and conflicts of the 1960s from her perspective at the University. Her exact response:
“You know I just wonder if it’s my way of thinking. I think maybe it’s my age and I’ve forgotten but I think maybe it’s because I thought so much of the university and the people here that I have excluded any dissention from my mind. I just don’t remember anything negative and that’s not normal.”
That was Mom. She always viewed the world in its best light.
Mom took to looking out for friends in their later years. There is one I remember in particular and that was Burta Taylor, Elliot Taylor’s widow. It was Burta that rekindled Mom’s sense of adventure. Burta was Hungarian and longed to see her homeland again. She wanted Mom to take her there. So at the age of 65 – Burta was 81 – they both flew off to Europe, Mom leaving Dad at home to watch his John Wayne movies.
They first travelled to Yugoslavia to visit old friends of Burta’s, where Mom made new friends and learned about the culture of the region. But next Mom and Burta went to Hungary to see Burta’s extended family. The year was 1989, the year of the revolutions in Eastern Europe. The Soviet Union was fast crumbling and the Iron Curtain was about to tear. The first rip happened in Hungary where the barbed wire between Hungary and Austria was stripped away. Revolution was in the air and the 3rd Republic of Hungary was in its birth throes. When it was time to go home the two ladies hired a taxi to take them to the Budapest airport. Approaching the airport a general strike was in progress and unrest in the air. Outside the airport the taxi driver refused to go further. Mom could not convince him to go further, so she got Burta out of the taxi, grabbed their bags and started walking down the jammed road. Entering the airport they were stopped by Hungarian soldiers at rifle point. But Mom is stubborn and had a schedule to follow. Despite rifles being pointed at them, she got through and on the plane.
Mom could be stubborn. When I turned 18, Mom announced at the dinner table that she had been a good mother and made sure her children ate their vegetables. But now that the youngest had turned 18 she revealed she hated vegetables and no longer intended to eat them. That was very traumatizing to me.
After Dad died, Mom came East to visit my family in Western New York. She had a routine and insisted sticking to it. I came home one day when she was visiting and asked my kids where Grandma was. They told me she insisted on going for her daily walk. The problem was… it was snowing. No, not snowing, it was a near whiteout. In a panic I asked the route as my kids normally walked with her. I headed out in the car searching for her. I finally found her and insisted she get in the car. She did so only because it seemed to be getting a bit cold to her.
On another trip she brought her sister, Margaret. Mom was ready for more adventure and planned taking a car trip with Margaret. We all were worried as Margaret had trouble walking. Mom planned Nova Scotia, but thankfully that got canned. But being stubborn, Mom and Margaret rented a car and rode off to Virginia to visit her Webb cousins. They had a wonderful time and thankfully made it back alive. I sometimes think Margaret was entertained by Mom and her adventures.
For Mom’s entire life she loved the sun. She spent way too much time in it. She’d fall asleep in it. In the summers we would vacation up at the family cabin on Yankee Hill. Mom would get into her shorts and halter top to sun bath while Dad would cut down dry brush. One time she fell asleep on the cement barrier leading to the front porch out in the open sun. Finally, Dad turned and yelled at her, “Pearl, move around a bit! The buzzards are closing in!” Sure enough, I looked up and there were like three of them circling in an orbit that was lowering quickly. Mom, against all advice, continued to sun bath right up to the time of her final illness and amazingly she never burned.
As Mom got older routine became her discipline. She always got up at about the same time, ate at the same time, sun bathed about the same time. In the evenings she turned on the bedside light at seven and hung her nightgown in the bathroom. At ten she got up in the living room took her bath – not a shower - and went to bed. Because schedule was important to her, the living room clock – that was really technically broken – was wound every day and corrected several times a day.
In these last three months the most frustrating thing for Mom was the loss of freedom. She could not embark on an adventure and her last few days the person she called out to was Margaret.
It is said “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood”. I sincerely believe that somewhere Mom and Margaret are together again playing and seeking new adventures.
Mom, we will miss you. God bless you, and thank you for being you.
A eulogy is where a person is praised and honored, particularly if they just died. What I really want to do is talk about my mother’s life a bit, as she told me and as I witnessed. Being as I am the unofficial family historian, you can be assured that some of this is bound to be true.
Mom always said she had the happiest childhood ever. Tracy Kidder had written, “If you had an essentially happy childhood, that tends to dwell with you.” Her childhood defined Mom’s life. I always said Mom reminded me of Shirley Temple - forever that child - but she was so much more than just that.
There were two people closest to Mom over her life: her dad and her older sister, Margaret.
Mom was born in Alameda in on September 9th, 1923. She always said that her birthday was always celebrated as a holiday in California – Admissions Day.
It was the Roaring Twenties and Prohibition was in full force when she was born. Mom always talked about the house in Alameda. Her dad and his brothers, Virginians by birth, were quite fond of their beverages. They made and stored the beverages of their choice in the basement, covering them up in homemade root beer. Mom would talk of the many parties they would host. Of course, the local law enforcement would come to their door to ask them to quiet down, but more often than not the officers would join the party. It was in this atmosphere that Mom and Margaret were raised; and from their father developed their adult personalities that we all came to love.
The family moved to Stockton around 1928 where Mom’s dad was a baker at Graven-Inglis with his brothers. Uncle Jeff founded Webb’s Bakery where Mom later worked and for the rest of it’s existence Mom frequented to feed her donut addiction. Her famous addiction lasted the rest of her life.
Mom was a tomboy. Her home was on Main Street near Pilgrim where there was a firehouse around the corner – both buildings still exist. There Mom learned to play baseball and I have to assume that is where she acquired her fondness for firemen. Mom was also a cat person. Her mother was a cat person. Margaret was a cat person. Throughout her life there was always a cat. If you wanted Mom to enjoy a movie, show her one with a cat in it. She was so much a cat person she repeatedly tried to deduct her cat’s vet expenses on her taxes.
In the 1930’s motor touring vacations were popular among those lucky enough to afford it. Grandma May, having been orphaned at age 18 was the carefree and adventurous type. Grandma May, Estel, Margaret and Mom periodically piled into the car with May behind the wheel and would go on trips. Mom spoke of going to Carroll County, Virginia, to attend the Webb family reunions. There she met her many cousins, as her dad was one of 14 children. We kids were fortunate that in 1962 Mom and Dad took us there to meet the cousins as well, and until recently, Mom maintained correspondence with her many relatives in the east on her dad’s side, and some on her mom’s side in the northwest.
In the late 1930s the Webbs traveled to Mexico where Mom was serenaded by local boys… that is, until Grandma yanked her back in. On the way back Mom met a boy in New Mexico and they took a liking to each other. Many years later, Mom confessed they were engaged. It was Grandma May that told Mom that the boy had joined the Navy as a musician and he died on the Arizona. I researched it for Mom several years ago and found this was not him. Yes, a musician sailor of that name died on the Arizona, but in truth this young man died on a long forgotten island in the South Pacific. Mom had kept a photo of him as remembrance.
Mom attended Stockton High School graduating in 1940 and attended Stockton College graduating in 1942. But she was convinced by the professor heading the engineering department in the College of the Pacific to become his secretary where she served as the secretary for the college signal corps in 1940. It was in 1942 that Mom married a handsome young man who was to become a fireman before joining up for the war. The story goes she first saw him on a motorcycle following her on the streetcar.
Before Dad shipped overseas Mom did go back to Kentucky to be with him while he was at Camp Campbell in the Tank Corps. We were again fortunate on the 1962 trip to go through Kentucky and meet Mom’s old landlady from the war.
Mom became an institution at COP, now UOP. She knew and worked with the pioneers of that university: Tully C. Knoles, Bob Burns, Elliott Taylor, Les Medford, and many more I don’t even recall.
Mom was a friendly face to students from abroad. These kids would get lonely particularly during the holidays. Mom always made sure they were OK and invited many of them home for holiday meals. Many of these kids became life long friends, never forgetting her kindness and caring.
Bob Burns, the university president, used to see Mom on campus and yell “Pee Pee!” from across the grounds. It just drove her crazy and she would tell him, “My middle initial is E, call me PEP”, to no avail. She even resorted to putting her initials on her car door, hoping it would convince him. He didn’t notice.
Which brings me to: Mom was also cool on campus. She had a 1965 Mustang… yellow. It was a classic. And just when you thought she could not be any cooler, she goes and gets a 1969 Black Mustang… with a red racing stripe! With a 351 under the hood. Kids would stop her and ask if it was hers, and then ask if she was willing to sell it. She didn’t until a few years later to a kid who thought he had died and gone to heaven as it was in mint condition with low mileage!
Mom loved to drive – she inherited this trait from her mother as a result of the depression era motor tours. Her biggest disappointment in life was 3 and half years ago when it was time to take her driver’s license away. She had been ill and she drove with a lead foot, but her reflexes were slowing. We felt so guilty doing this as she would constantly remind us of how she loved driving.
When we were kids and Dad was working on a weekend, Mom would load us up in the car and we would head down county roads on some new adventure. Whether it be stomping around some overgrown cow pasture looking for ghost town ruins or searching for Joaquin Murietta’s gold. We were sure to have fun. But Mom wasn’t entertaining us, this was her adventure, too. She was sure someday we would find the gold. To this day I have a love of California history thanks to these adventures, particularly the legends of the old Mother Lode.
Mom had another adventure she enjoyed. Over time she liked to sneak off to Tahoe to gamble. Dad would be at home and Mom would tell him she was going with her friend Jeanine and Dad’s mother to Sacramento to shop. They would run up to Sacramento, buy something – anything – to prove they had shopped. Then they would drive up to Tahoe to gamble all day. Dad was never the wiser. His own mother thought it was hilarious.
Indian casinos were invented for Mom and her gambling cronies. It shortened the travel time thereby maximizing the gambling time. I always saw Mom as a professional gambler. She specialized in one machine, and if some poor soul was on HER machine – God help them. Mom would proudly proclaim her winning victories. The losses were long forgotten, but what she could do with a slot machine was amazing.
I want to go back to her university life.
The 1966 Naranjado has a picture of Mom, but it is the caption that is telling: “Pearl Piper, Administrative Secretary to the Dean of Admissions and the Scholarship Committee, is accorded faculty privileges because of the extreme importance of her position”. If anything, this understated her influence as I can personally attest.
Erma Bombeck said, "When your mother asks, 'Do you want a piece of advice?' it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway."
When I was in the 8th grade, Mom sat me down to go through my high school curriculum – every semester for the next 4 years. I was allowed one optional course, and that was it. She said it was college prep, or something like that.
Well, college didn’t start out well and I ended up dropping out. The first one I went to was Mom in her office. She didn’t try to talk me out of it, but instructed how to do it. A year later, I called her and told her I wanted to re-apply when I came home. Mom informed me casually that I was already re-admitted. I was thinking of engineering so Mom scheduled an appointment with Dean Heyborne. I was asked only one question in the interview: “What is your major?” This told volumes, of my mother’s influence and I thank her for being patient with me, and getting me a second opportunity for an education.
Mom would go on to work at UOP for a total of 46 years. She finally retired in 1986. The University on its part awarded my mother The Order of Pacific. This award is the highest University award to be given for service and commitment in the university community.
Retirement did not slow Mom down. Well into the last years of her life she was an active member of not only the university community, but in other community activities. She volunteered at the Haggin Museum once a week and was instrumental in their annual “Mad Hatter’s Tea Party”. Instrumental is a bit understated - she would obsess on it. At the University she continued to work at the John Muir Center with administrative work, membership and published their newsletter and piqued her interest in the life of this important naturalist in preserving the natural beauty of the west.
Mom worked with her long time friend and colleague, Doris Meyer in the University Emeriti Society. Together, they, and folks like Leslie Medford and many others, tried to capture the history of the University. I recommend the oral interviews to anybody interested. I want to thank Doris for her hard work in preserving this and making it available.
One item from the oral interview really explains how Mom viewed the world. Doris asked her about the social issues and conflicts of the 1960s from her perspective at the University. Her exact response:
“You know I just wonder if it’s my way of thinking. I think maybe it’s my age and I’ve forgotten but I think maybe it’s because I thought so much of the university and the people here that I have excluded any dissention from my mind. I just don’t remember anything negative and that’s not normal.”
That was Mom. She always viewed the world in its best light.
Mom took to looking out for friends in their later years. There is one I remember in particular and that was Burta Taylor, Elliot Taylor’s widow. It was Burta that rekindled Mom’s sense of adventure. Burta was Hungarian and longed to see her homeland again. She wanted Mom to take her there. So at the age of 65 – Burta was 81 – they both flew off to Europe, Mom leaving Dad at home to watch his John Wayne movies.
They first travelled to Yugoslavia to visit old friends of Burta’s, where Mom made new friends and learned about the culture of the region. But next Mom and Burta went to Hungary to see Burta’s extended family. The year was 1989, the year of the revolutions in Eastern Europe. The Soviet Union was fast crumbling and the Iron Curtain was about to tear. The first rip happened in Hungary where the barbed wire between Hungary and Austria was stripped away. Revolution was in the air and the 3rd Republic of Hungary was in its birth throes. When it was time to go home the two ladies hired a taxi to take them to the Budapest airport. Approaching the airport a general strike was in progress and unrest in the air. Outside the airport the taxi driver refused to go further. Mom could not convince him to go further, so she got Burta out of the taxi, grabbed their bags and started walking down the jammed road. Entering the airport they were stopped by Hungarian soldiers at rifle point. But Mom is stubborn and had a schedule to follow. Despite rifles being pointed at them, she got through and on the plane.
Mom could be stubborn. When I turned 18, Mom announced at the dinner table that she had been a good mother and made sure her children ate their vegetables. But now that the youngest had turned 18 she revealed she hated vegetables and no longer intended to eat them. That was very traumatizing to me.
After Dad died, Mom came East to visit my family in Western New York. She had a routine and insisted sticking to it. I came home one day when she was visiting and asked my kids where Grandma was. They told me she insisted on going for her daily walk. The problem was… it was snowing. No, not snowing, it was a near whiteout. In a panic I asked the route as my kids normally walked with her. I headed out in the car searching for her. I finally found her and insisted she get in the car. She did so only because it seemed to be getting a bit cold to her.
On another trip she brought her sister, Margaret. Mom was ready for more adventure and planned taking a car trip with Margaret. We all were worried as Margaret had trouble walking. Mom planned Nova Scotia, but thankfully that got canned. But being stubborn, Mom and Margaret rented a car and rode off to Virginia to visit her Webb cousins. They had a wonderful time and thankfully made it back alive. I sometimes think Margaret was entertained by Mom and her adventures.
For Mom’s entire life she loved the sun. She spent way too much time in it. She’d fall asleep in it. In the summers we would vacation up at the family cabin on Yankee Hill. Mom would get into her shorts and halter top to sun bath while Dad would cut down dry brush. One time she fell asleep on the cement barrier leading to the front porch out in the open sun. Finally, Dad turned and yelled at her, “Pearl, move around a bit! The buzzards are closing in!” Sure enough, I looked up and there were like three of them circling in an orbit that was lowering quickly. Mom, against all advice, continued to sun bath right up to the time of her final illness and amazingly she never burned.
As Mom got older routine became her discipline. She always got up at about the same time, ate at the same time, sun bathed about the same time. In the evenings she turned on the bedside light at seven and hung her nightgown in the bathroom. At ten she got up in the living room took her bath – not a shower - and went to bed. Because schedule was important to her, the living room clock – that was really technically broken – was wound every day and corrected several times a day.
In these last three months the most frustrating thing for Mom was the loss of freedom. She could not embark on an adventure and her last few days the person she called out to was Margaret.
It is said “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood”. I sincerely believe that somewhere Mom and Margaret are together again playing and seeking new adventures.
Mom, we will miss you. God bless you, and thank you for being you.
Eulogy for Pearl Piper, 7 Sep 2014:
A eulogy is where a person is praised and honored, particularly if they just died. What I really want to do is talk about my mother’s life a bit, as she told me and as I witnessed. Being as I am the unofficial family historian, you can be assured that some of this is bound to be true.
Mom always said she had the happiest childhood ever. Tracy Kidder had written, “If you had an essentially happy childhood, that tends to dwell with you.” Her childhood defined Mom’s life. I always said Mom reminded me of Shirley Temple - forever that child - but she was so much more than just that.
There were two people closest to Mom over her life: her dad and her older sister, Margaret.
Mom was born in Alameda in on September 9th, 1923. She always said that her birthday was always celebrated as a holiday in California – Admissions Day.
It was the Roaring Twenties and Prohibition was in full force when she was born. Mom always talked about the house in Alameda. Her dad and his brothers, Virginians by birth, were quite fond of their beverages. They made and stored the beverages of their choice in the basement, covering them up in homemade root beer. Mom would talk of the many parties they would host. Of course, the local law enforcement would come to their door to ask them to quiet down, but more often than not the officers would join the party. It was in this atmosphere that Mom and Margaret were raised; and from their father developed their adult personalities that we all came to love.
The family moved to Stockton around 1928 where Mom’s dad was a baker at Graven-Inglis with his brothers. Uncle Jeff founded Webb’s Bakery where Mom later worked and for the rest of it’s existence Mom frequented to feed her donut addiction. Her famous addiction lasted the rest of her life.
Mom was a tomboy. Her home was on Main Street near Pilgrim where there was a firehouse around the corner – both buildings still exist. There Mom learned to play baseball and I have to assume that is where she acquired her fondness for firemen. Mom was also a cat person. Her mother was a cat person. Margaret was a cat person. Throughout her life there was always a cat. If you wanted Mom to enjoy a movie, show her one with a cat in it. She was so much a cat person she repeatedly tried to deduct her cat’s vet expenses on her taxes.
In the 1930’s motor touring vacations were popular among those lucky enough to afford it. Grandma May, having been orphaned at age 18 was the carefree and adventurous type. Grandma May, Estel, Margaret and Mom periodically piled into the car with May behind the wheel and would go on trips. Mom spoke of going to Carroll County, Virginia, to attend the Webb family reunions. There she met her many cousins, as her dad was one of 14 children. We kids were fortunate that in 1962 Mom and Dad took us there to meet the cousins as well, and until recently, Mom maintained correspondence with her many relatives in the east on her dad’s side, and some on her mom’s side in the northwest.
In the late 1930s the Webbs traveled to Mexico where Mom was serenaded by local boys… that is, until Grandma yanked her back in. On the way back Mom met a boy in New Mexico and they took a liking to each other. Many years later, Mom confessed they were engaged. It was Grandma May that told Mom that the boy had joined the Navy as a musician and he died on the Arizona. I researched it for Mom several years ago and found this was not him. Yes, a musician sailor of that name died on the Arizona, but in truth this young man died on a long forgotten island in the South Pacific. Mom had kept a photo of him as remembrance.
Mom attended Stockton High School graduating in 1940 and attended Stockton College graduating in 1942. But she was convinced by the professor heading the engineering department in the College of the Pacific to become his secretary where she served as the secretary for the college signal corps in 1940. It was in 1942 that Mom married a handsome young man who was to become a fireman before joining up for the war. The story goes she first saw him on a motorcycle following her on the streetcar.
Before Dad shipped overseas Mom did go back to Kentucky to be with him while he was at Camp Campbell in the Tank Corps. We were again fortunate on the 1962 trip to go through Kentucky and meet Mom’s old landlady from the war.
Mom became an institution at COP, now UOP. She knew and worked with the pioneers of that university: Tully C. Knoles, Bob Burns, Elliott Taylor, Les Medford, and many more I don’t even recall.
Mom was a friendly face to students from abroad. These kids would get lonely particularly during the holidays. Mom always made sure they were OK and invited many of them home for holiday meals. Many of these kids became life long friends, never forgetting her kindness and caring.
Bob Burns, the university president, used to see Mom on campus and yell “Pee Pee!” from across the grounds. It just drove her crazy and she would tell him, “My middle initial is E, call me PEP”, to no avail. She even resorted to putting her initials on her car door, hoping it would convince him. He didn’t notice.
Which brings me to: Mom was also cool on campus. She had a 1965 Mustang… yellow. It was a classic. And just when you thought she could not be any cooler, she goes and gets a 1969 Black Mustang… with a red racing stripe! With a 351 under the hood. Kids would stop her and ask if it was hers, and then ask if she was willing to sell it. She didn’t until a few years later to a kid who thought he had died and gone to heaven as it was in mint condition with low mileage!
Mom loved to drive – she inherited this trait from her mother as a result of the depression era motor tours. Her biggest disappointment in life was 3 and half years ago when it was time to take her driver’s license away. She had been ill and she drove with a lead foot, but her reflexes were slowing. We felt so guilty doing this as she would constantly remind us of how she loved driving.
When we were kids and Dad was working on a weekend, Mom would load us up in the car and we would head down county roads on some new adventure. Whether it be stomping around some overgrown cow pasture looking for ghost town ruins or searching for Joaquin Murietta’s gold. We were sure to have fun. But Mom wasn’t entertaining us, this was her adventure, too. She was sure someday we would find the gold. To this day I have a love of California history thanks to these adventures, particularly the legends of the old Mother Lode.
Mom had another adventure she enjoyed. Over time she liked to sneak off to Tahoe to gamble. Dad would be at home and Mom would tell him she was going with her friend Jeanine and Dad’s mother to Sacramento to shop. They would run up to Sacramento, buy something – anything – to prove they had shopped. Then they would drive up to Tahoe to gamble all day. Dad was never the wiser. His own mother thought it was hilarious.
Indian casinos were invented for Mom and her gambling cronies. It shortened the travel time thereby maximizing the gambling time. I always saw Mom as a professional gambler. She specialized in one machine, and if some poor soul was on HER machine – God help them. Mom would proudly proclaim her winning victories. The losses were long forgotten, but what she could do with a slot machine was amazing.
I want to go back to her university life.
The 1966 Naranjado has a picture of Mom, but it is the caption that is telling: “Pearl Piper, Administrative Secretary to the Dean of Admissions and the Scholarship Committee, is accorded faculty privileges because of the extreme importance of her position”. If anything, this understated her influence as I can personally attest.
Erma Bombeck said, "When your mother asks, 'Do you want a piece of advice?' it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway."
When I was in the 8th grade, Mom sat me down to go through my high school curriculum – every semester for the next 4 years. I was allowed one optional course, and that was it. She said it was college prep, or something like that.
Well, college didn’t start out well and I ended up dropping out. The first one I went to was Mom in her office. She didn’t try to talk me out of it, but instructed how to do it. A year later, I called her and told her I wanted to re-apply when I came home. Mom informed me casually that I was already re-admitted. I was thinking of engineering so Mom scheduled an appointment with Dean Heyborne. I was asked only one question in the interview: “What is your major?” This told volumes, of my mother’s influence and I thank her for being patient with me, and getting me a second opportunity for an education.
Mom would go on to work at UOP for a total of 46 years. She finally retired in 1986. The University on its part awarded my mother The Order of Pacific. This award is the highest University award to be given for service and commitment in the university community.
Retirement did not slow Mom down. Well into the last years of her life she was an active member of not only the university community, but in other community activities. She volunteered at the Haggin Museum once a week and was instrumental in their annual “Mad Hatter’s Tea Party”. Instrumental is a bit understated - she would obsess on it. At the University she continued to work at the John Muir Center with administrative work, membership and published their newsletter and piqued her interest in the life of this important naturalist in preserving the natural beauty of the west.
Mom worked with her long time friend and colleague, Doris Meyer in the University Emeriti Society. Together, they, and folks like Leslie Medford and many others, tried to capture the history of the University. I recommend the oral interviews to anybody interested. I want to thank Doris for her hard work in preserving this and making it available.
One item from the oral interview really explains how Mom viewed the world. Doris asked her about the social issues and conflicts of the 1960s from her perspective at the University. Her exact response:
“You know I just wonder if it’s my way of thinking. I think maybe it’s my age and I’ve forgotten but I think maybe it’s because I thought so much of the university and the people here that I have excluded any dissention from my mind. I just don’t remember anything negative and that’s not normal.”
That was Mom. She always viewed the world in its best light.
Mom took to looking out for friends in their later years. There is one I remember in particular and that was Burta Taylor, Elliot Taylor’s widow. It was Burta that rekindled Mom’s sense of adventure. Burta was Hungarian and longed to see her homeland again. She wanted Mom to take her there. So at the age of 65 – Burta was 81 – they both flew off to Europe, Mom leaving Dad at home to watch his John Wayne movies.
They first travelled to Yugoslavia to visit old friends of Burta’s, where Mom made new friends and learned about the culture of the region. But next Mom and Burta went to Hungary to see Burta’s extended family. The year was 1989, the year of the revolutions in Eastern Europe. The Soviet Union was fast crumbling and the Iron Curtain was about to tear. The first rip happened in Hungary where the barbed wire between Hungary and Austria was stripped away. Revolution was in the air and the 3rd Republic of Hungary was in its birth throes. When it was time to go home the two ladies hired a taxi to take them to the Budapest airport. Approaching the airport a general strike was in progress and unrest in the air. Outside the airport the taxi driver refused to go further. Mom could not convince him to go further, so she got Burta out of the taxi, grabbed their bags and started walking down the jammed road. Entering the airport they were stopped by Hungarian soldiers at rifle point. But Mom is stubborn and had a schedule to follow. Despite rifles being pointed at them, she got through and on the plane.
Mom could be stubborn. When I turned 18, Mom announced at the dinner table that she had been a good mother and made sure her children ate their vegetables. But now that the youngest had turned 18 she revealed she hated vegetables and no longer intended to eat them. That was very traumatizing to me.
After Dad died, Mom came East to visit my family in Western New York. She had a routine and insisted sticking to it. I came home one day when she was visiting and asked my kids where Grandma was. They told me she insisted on going for her daily walk. The problem was… it was snowing. No, not snowing, it was a near whiteout. In a panic I asked the route as my kids normally walked with her. I headed out in the car searching for her. I finally found her and insisted she get in the car. She did so only because it seemed to be getting a bit cold to her.
On another trip she brought her sister, Margaret. Mom was ready for more adventure and planned taking a car trip with Margaret. We all were worried as Margaret had trouble walking. Mom planned Nova Scotia, but thankfully that got canned. But being stubborn, Mom and Margaret rented a car and rode off to Virginia to visit her Webb cousins. They had a wonderful time and thankfully made it back alive. I sometimes think Margaret was entertained by Mom and her adventures.
For Mom’s entire life she loved the sun. She spent way too much time in it. She’d fall asleep in it. In the summers we would vacation up at the family cabin on Yankee Hill. Mom would get into her shorts and halter top to sun bath while Dad would cut down dry brush. One time she fell asleep on the cement barrier leading to the front porch out in the open sun. Finally, Dad turned and yelled at her, “Pearl, move around a bit! The buzzards are closing in!” Sure enough, I looked up and there were like three of them circling in an orbit that was lowering quickly. Mom, against all advice, continued to sun bath right up to the time of her final illness and amazingly she never burned.
As Mom got older routine became her discipline. She always got up at about the same time, ate at the same time, sun bathed about the same time. In the evenings she turned on the bedside light at seven and hung her nightgown in the bathroom. At ten she got up in the living room took her bath – not a shower - and went to bed. Because schedule was important to her, the living room clock – that was really technically broken – was wound every day and corrected several times a day.
In these last three months the most frustrating thing for Mom was the loss of freedom. She could not embark on an adventure and her last few days the person she called out to was Margaret.
It is said “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood”. I sincerely believe that somewhere Mom and Margaret are together again playing and seeking new adventures.
Mom, we will miss you. God bless you, and thank you for being you.
A eulogy is where a person is praised and honored, particularly if they just died. What I really want to do is talk about my mother’s life a bit, as she told me and as I witnessed. Being as I am the unofficial family historian, you can be assured that some of this is bound to be true.
Mom always said she had the happiest childhood ever. Tracy Kidder had written, “If you had an essentially happy childhood, that tends to dwell with you.” Her childhood defined Mom’s life. I always said Mom reminded me of Shirley Temple - forever that child - but she was so much more than just that.
There were two people closest to Mom over her life: her dad and her older sister, Margaret.
Mom was born in Alameda in on September 9th, 1923. She always said that her birthday was always celebrated as a holiday in California – Admissions Day.
It was the Roaring Twenties and Prohibition was in full force when she was born. Mom always talked about the house in Alameda. Her dad and his brothers, Virginians by birth, were quite fond of their beverages. They made and stored the beverages of their choice in the basement, covering them up in homemade root beer. Mom would talk of the many parties they would host. Of course, the local law enforcement would come to their door to ask them to quiet down, but more often than not the officers would join the party. It was in this atmosphere that Mom and Margaret were raised; and from their father developed their adult personalities that we all came to love.
The family moved to Stockton around 1928 where Mom’s dad was a baker at Graven-Inglis with his brothers. Uncle Jeff founded Webb’s Bakery where Mom later worked and for the rest of it’s existence Mom frequented to feed her donut addiction. Her famous addiction lasted the rest of her life.
Mom was a tomboy. Her home was on Main Street near Pilgrim where there was a firehouse around the corner – both buildings still exist. There Mom learned to play baseball and I have to assume that is where she acquired her fondness for firemen. Mom was also a cat person. Her mother was a cat person. Margaret was a cat person. Throughout her life there was always a cat. If you wanted Mom to enjoy a movie, show her one with a cat in it. She was so much a cat person she repeatedly tried to deduct her cat’s vet expenses on her taxes.
In the 1930’s motor touring vacations were popular among those lucky enough to afford it. Grandma May, having been orphaned at age 18 was the carefree and adventurous type. Grandma May, Estel, Margaret and Mom periodically piled into the car with May behind the wheel and would go on trips. Mom spoke of going to Carroll County, Virginia, to attend the Webb family reunions. There she met her many cousins, as her dad was one of 14 children. We kids were fortunate that in 1962 Mom and Dad took us there to meet the cousins as well, and until recently, Mom maintained correspondence with her many relatives in the east on her dad’s side, and some on her mom’s side in the northwest.
In the late 1930s the Webbs traveled to Mexico where Mom was serenaded by local boys… that is, until Grandma yanked her back in. On the way back Mom met a boy in New Mexico and they took a liking to each other. Many years later, Mom confessed they were engaged. It was Grandma May that told Mom that the boy had joined the Navy as a musician and he died on the Arizona. I researched it for Mom several years ago and found this was not him. Yes, a musician sailor of that name died on the Arizona, but in truth this young man died on a long forgotten island in the South Pacific. Mom had kept a photo of him as remembrance.
Mom attended Stockton High School graduating in 1940 and attended Stockton College graduating in 1942. But she was convinced by the professor heading the engineering department in the College of the Pacific to become his secretary where she served as the secretary for the college signal corps in 1940. It was in 1942 that Mom married a handsome young man who was to become a fireman before joining up for the war. The story goes she first saw him on a motorcycle following her on the streetcar.
Before Dad shipped overseas Mom did go back to Kentucky to be with him while he was at Camp Campbell in the Tank Corps. We were again fortunate on the 1962 trip to go through Kentucky and meet Mom’s old landlady from the war.
Mom became an institution at COP, now UOP. She knew and worked with the pioneers of that university: Tully C. Knoles, Bob Burns, Elliott Taylor, Les Medford, and many more I don’t even recall.
Mom was a friendly face to students from abroad. These kids would get lonely particularly during the holidays. Mom always made sure they were OK and invited many of them home for holiday meals. Many of these kids became life long friends, never forgetting her kindness and caring.
Bob Burns, the university president, used to see Mom on campus and yell “Pee Pee!” from across the grounds. It just drove her crazy and she would tell him, “My middle initial is E, call me PEP”, to no avail. She even resorted to putting her initials on her car door, hoping it would convince him. He didn’t notice.
Which brings me to: Mom was also cool on campus. She had a 1965 Mustang… yellow. It was a classic. And just when you thought she could not be any cooler, she goes and gets a 1969 Black Mustang… with a red racing stripe! With a 351 under the hood. Kids would stop her and ask if it was hers, and then ask if she was willing to sell it. She didn’t until a few years later to a kid who thought he had died and gone to heaven as it was in mint condition with low mileage!
Mom loved to drive – she inherited this trait from her mother as a result of the depression era motor tours. Her biggest disappointment in life was 3 and half years ago when it was time to take her driver’s license away. She had been ill and she drove with a lead foot, but her reflexes were slowing. We felt so guilty doing this as she would constantly remind us of how she loved driving.
When we were kids and Dad was working on a weekend, Mom would load us up in the car and we would head down county roads on some new adventure. Whether it be stomping around some overgrown cow pasture looking for ghost town ruins or searching for Joaquin Murietta’s gold. We were sure to have fun. But Mom wasn’t entertaining us, this was her adventure, too. She was sure someday we would find the gold. To this day I have a love of California history thanks to these adventures, particularly the legends of the old Mother Lode.
Mom had another adventure she enjoyed. Over time she liked to sneak off to Tahoe to gamble. Dad would be at home and Mom would tell him she was going with her friend Jeanine and Dad’s mother to Sacramento to shop. They would run up to Sacramento, buy something – anything – to prove they had shopped. Then they would drive up to Tahoe to gamble all day. Dad was never the wiser. His own mother thought it was hilarious.
Indian casinos were invented for Mom and her gambling cronies. It shortened the travel time thereby maximizing the gambling time. I always saw Mom as a professional gambler. She specialized in one machine, and if some poor soul was on HER machine – God help them. Mom would proudly proclaim her winning victories. The losses were long forgotten, but what she could do with a slot machine was amazing.
I want to go back to her university life.
The 1966 Naranjado has a picture of Mom, but it is the caption that is telling: “Pearl Piper, Administrative Secretary to the Dean of Admissions and the Scholarship Committee, is accorded faculty privileges because of the extreme importance of her position”. If anything, this understated her influence as I can personally attest.
Erma Bombeck said, "When your mother asks, 'Do you want a piece of advice?' it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway."
When I was in the 8th grade, Mom sat me down to go through my high school curriculum – every semester for the next 4 years. I was allowed one optional course, and that was it. She said it was college prep, or something like that.
Well, college didn’t start out well and I ended up dropping out. The first one I went to was Mom in her office. She didn’t try to talk me out of it, but instructed how to do it. A year later, I called her and told her I wanted to re-apply when I came home. Mom informed me casually that I was already re-admitted. I was thinking of engineering so Mom scheduled an appointment with Dean Heyborne. I was asked only one question in the interview: “What is your major?” This told volumes, of my mother’s influence and I thank her for being patient with me, and getting me a second opportunity for an education.
Mom would go on to work at UOP for a total of 46 years. She finally retired in 1986. The University on its part awarded my mother The Order of Pacific. This award is the highest University award to be given for service and commitment in the university community.
Retirement did not slow Mom down. Well into the last years of her life she was an active member of not only the university community, but in other community activities. She volunteered at the Haggin Museum once a week and was instrumental in their annual “Mad Hatter’s Tea Party”. Instrumental is a bit understated - she would obsess on it. At the University she continued to work at the John Muir Center with administrative work, membership and published their newsletter and piqued her interest in the life of this important naturalist in preserving the natural beauty of the west.
Mom worked with her long time friend and colleague, Doris Meyer in the University Emeriti Society. Together, they, and folks like Leslie Medford and many others, tried to capture the history of the University. I recommend the oral interviews to anybody interested. I want to thank Doris for her hard work in preserving this and making it available.
One item from the oral interview really explains how Mom viewed the world. Doris asked her about the social issues and conflicts of the 1960s from her perspective at the University. Her exact response:
“You know I just wonder if it’s my way of thinking. I think maybe it’s my age and I’ve forgotten but I think maybe it’s because I thought so much of the university and the people here that I have excluded any dissention from my mind. I just don’t remember anything negative and that’s not normal.”
That was Mom. She always viewed the world in its best light.
Mom took to looking out for friends in their later years. There is one I remember in particular and that was Burta Taylor, Elliot Taylor’s widow. It was Burta that rekindled Mom’s sense of adventure. Burta was Hungarian and longed to see her homeland again. She wanted Mom to take her there. So at the age of 65 – Burta was 81 – they both flew off to Europe, Mom leaving Dad at home to watch his John Wayne movies.
They first travelled to Yugoslavia to visit old friends of Burta’s, where Mom made new friends and learned about the culture of the region. But next Mom and Burta went to Hungary to see Burta’s extended family. The year was 1989, the year of the revolutions in Eastern Europe. The Soviet Union was fast crumbling and the Iron Curtain was about to tear. The first rip happened in Hungary where the barbed wire between Hungary and Austria was stripped away. Revolution was in the air and the 3rd Republic of Hungary was in its birth throes. When it was time to go home the two ladies hired a taxi to take them to the Budapest airport. Approaching the airport a general strike was in progress and unrest in the air. Outside the airport the taxi driver refused to go further. Mom could not convince him to go further, so she got Burta out of the taxi, grabbed their bags and started walking down the jammed road. Entering the airport they were stopped by Hungarian soldiers at rifle point. But Mom is stubborn and had a schedule to follow. Despite rifles being pointed at them, she got through and on the plane.
Mom could be stubborn. When I turned 18, Mom announced at the dinner table that she had been a good mother and made sure her children ate their vegetables. But now that the youngest had turned 18 she revealed she hated vegetables and no longer intended to eat them. That was very traumatizing to me.
After Dad died, Mom came East to visit my family in Western New York. She had a routine and insisted sticking to it. I came home one day when she was visiting and asked my kids where Grandma was. They told me she insisted on going for her daily walk. The problem was… it was snowing. No, not snowing, it was a near whiteout. In a panic I asked the route as my kids normally walked with her. I headed out in the car searching for her. I finally found her and insisted she get in the car. She did so only because it seemed to be getting a bit cold to her.
On another trip she brought her sister, Margaret. Mom was ready for more adventure and planned taking a car trip with Margaret. We all were worried as Margaret had trouble walking. Mom planned Nova Scotia, but thankfully that got canned. But being stubborn, Mom and Margaret rented a car and rode off to Virginia to visit her Webb cousins. They had a wonderful time and thankfully made it back alive. I sometimes think Margaret was entertained by Mom and her adventures.
For Mom’s entire life she loved the sun. She spent way too much time in it. She’d fall asleep in it. In the summers we would vacation up at the family cabin on Yankee Hill. Mom would get into her shorts and halter top to sun bath while Dad would cut down dry brush. One time she fell asleep on the cement barrier leading to the front porch out in the open sun. Finally, Dad turned and yelled at her, “Pearl, move around a bit! The buzzards are closing in!” Sure enough, I looked up and there were like three of them circling in an orbit that was lowering quickly. Mom, against all advice, continued to sun bath right up to the time of her final illness and amazingly she never burned.
As Mom got older routine became her discipline. She always got up at about the same time, ate at the same time, sun bathed about the same time. In the evenings she turned on the bedside light at seven and hung her nightgown in the bathroom. At ten she got up in the living room took her bath – not a shower - and went to bed. Because schedule was important to her, the living room clock – that was really technically broken – was wound every day and corrected several times a day.
In these last three months the most frustrating thing for Mom was the loss of freedom. She could not embark on an adventure and her last few days the person she called out to was Margaret.
It is said “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood”. I sincerely believe that somewhere Mom and Margaret are together again playing and seeking new adventures.
Mom, we will miss you. God bless you, and thank you for being you.
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