A Tale of Two Markers

Photos by Betty Todd, Lee Spangler, 

Sheryl Todd, and Kathy Rodriguez

This is my dad and me in 1949 when he was 25.

He lived to the age of 80, which would have surprised him very much if he'd known that in his younger years. He expected to die around 55 or 60; his father died at the age of 55. Lois was my dad's second wife, and they moved to Prescott, Arizona, a number of years after their respective divorces and their marriage to each other. She died in 2010 in California, and her ashes will be brought to Arizona to be with his. This is what they wanted, although it's far away from either family. This is an older photo and I don't know what the marker looks like today.

The blossoms, the blue fountain and the tree are nice, although this stark setting at the Prescott United Methodist Church makes me sad.

I like the view of the hills. However, once again the spot seems so barren. I saw a photo of the old Methodist Church which was of a nice style, substantial and attractive with architectural merit. I'm not even showing you a picture of the church here. It might have seemed modern in some context, but I don't like it.

My sister and brother and I decided to buy a stone for our dad and put it in the family plot in Corona, California, at Sunnyslope Cemetery where my dad's ancestors and relatives have been buried since the 1890s.

Here is what we got. It's really hard deciding what to put on a stone, and it's the first time I had had to take part in this decision. As a historian I wanted something more than simple dates. Although he lived in Larchmont, New York, for awhile as a child and for a short time in Bisbee, Arizona, we settled on these three locations. He was born in San Francisco, lived most of his life in Corona, and then moved to Prescott. We wanted to give some hint of where he spent his last years, because he loved his life in Prescott and his ashes are there. I'm sure that someone will be confused by the fact that he has a stone here in Corona, but it was more important to us to have a place for him among his family and, at least as importantly, where future generations could find him in their family history. We wanted to honor his service in the war, and then … what do you say to express your feelings about losing your dad? "In Loving Memory" had previously seemed trite to me because you see it often, but it was only when trying to figure out what to put on the stone that I realized why people use it. It meant everything to me at that moment, and no one else had to understand. 

And here I make a confession: Why three locations - not two, not four? You could say they fit on the stone, and they do. But equally, I have always loved the sound of the way James Joyce ended his mammoth novel Ulysses: "TRIESTE, ZURICH, PARIS. 1914-1922." Three little words and a span of years give a sense of breadth and movement. So, too, I hoped, our marker. My father was not the last in a line that loved to travel, to experience new sights and cultures, and was fortunate enough to be able to go beyond San Francisco, Corona, and Prescott, and see a good-sized part of the world. 

My sister and Mom went to the cemetery to take the photo I've been talking about, and the bird of paradise flowers are from my mother's garden. I thought it was sweet, as my parents had been divorced for about 23 years.

In February of 2011, I came back to take some pictures. The management at the cemetery explained that due to severe flooding some months or so in the past, many of the stones were encrusted with mud. This is my dad's father. You'll be able to read the stone later in the post.

And this is my dad's mother. You can read it here, but you'll be able to read it better in a minute.

This is my father's great aunt, Dr. Carol Jameson, who never married but spent 40 years in India as a doctor of gynecology who also operated on the poor to restore their sight. The contrast on her stone shows just how much "mud" we're talking about. It looks more like the lime used in cement, and that may not be too far off. Granite has been quarried in Corona, and limestone in other parts of Riverside County, and the nearby Riverside Portland Cement plant can attest to that. 

Here is Thorndike C. Jameson, Carol's father. I hardly know what to say about the disrespectful condition of this stone and the thoughtless tire tracks.

Here's how my dad's stone looked at the end of 2011 when Lee stopped by the cemetery after cleaning the stones of his parents in Los Angeles. The mud layer has thinned a little.

Lee asked the cemetery manager if they had some pumice he could borrow to clean up a bit. For those who don't know, he is not even a family member; he was doing this for me. The manager wouldn't loan a traveler theirs, but said it could be gotten at some big box store and waved vaguely in that direction. Lee noticed two members of the grounds crew working on some equally-lime-coated stones nearby and began chatting. They were very friendly, loaned him a pumice stone, and said to leave it on the fender of a backhoe when he was done.

Here's what my dad's stone looked like by the time Lee left, much tired from wrestling with the lime.

He had also scrubbed a number of other ones. My grandmother's stone cleaned up partially as well. You can certainly read it now.

And my grandfather's stone looks very good in the bright light even though remnants of the flood remain.

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I made this post today to take part in the not-so-tragic meme, Taphophile Tragics.

Thanks, Julie, for giving me the excuse to collage together a story and some memories.

This blog is sponsored by Tapir and Friends Animal Store.

Dedication speech at the Bernice Jameson Todd Elementary School

Last Friday was the dedication day for the school (pictured on this blog) named after my grandmother. My cousin, Nancy Morris Perry, gave a speech in behalf of the family. I wasn't there at the dedication, but Aunt Helen sent me a copy. I think Nancy did a beautiful job of capturing many of the thoughts and memories we have about our grandmother and many of the high points of why she's remembered and revered by so many people. This is an interesting perspective on Bernice's life. Thanks, Nancy. I didn't realize that Dr. Mayo didn't think she was marriage material!

NANCY'S SPEECH:

I am here today at this beautiful new school to share with you about the woman for whom it was named, Dr. Bernice Jameson Todd. She was my grandmother and I am speaking on behalf of the rest of the family members who are able to be here today and those who are not. I hope that this opportunity will allow me to give you some insight into her character and who she was.

Dr. Bernice Jameson Todd was born in Corona in 1891. Her grandfather, George L. Joy, was one of the Corona’s founding settlers. She was one of six children of William Henry and Hetty Joy Jameson. The family was involved in several businesses
including the farming of citrus.

My grandmother attended Corona schools. Her parents instilled in her and all of their children a passion for education and strong desire to help others. All six children, including the four girls, went on to pursue college educations, an unusual venture in the early 1900’s.

In 1909 Dr. Todd’s father sold a lemon grove in Los Angeles. Instead of prudently investing the money in the bank, he packed the family up and embarked on a year and a half long trip around the world. During this trip Dr. Todd was deeply moved by the extreme poverty and lack of medical care she saw in China and became determined to become a doctor. This was the beginning of a lifelong quest to help those in unfortunate situations. Dr Todd applied to and was accepted at Stanford
Medical School.

Dr. Todd worked hard in her studies. Signs now indicate that she probably had dyslexia, a learning disability that makes reading and writing quite difficult. Medical textbooks in the early 1900’s were still published in German. This must have made studies for her so much more challenging than for most.

Dr. Todd completed her residency at Children’s Hospital in San Francisco. She took her first job at the renowned Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. She was hired as lead assistant in thoracic surgery to Dr. Will Mayo. When he hired her, Dr. Mayo commented that she was not only dedicated to the profession, but was a suitable long-term hire as she did not seem to be a likely marriage prospect for anyone!

Love’s powers are stronger than one brilliant doctor’s assumption and my grandmother eventually returned to Corona to marry Clement J. Todd. Clement Todd was a graduate of the Coast Guard Academy and the first several years of their marriage included long separations while he served on an ice-cutting ship in the Bering Sea.

Grandma had the true spirit of an adventurer and the dedicated allegiance of a devoted wife. She and my grandfather had a close and committed marriage. When my grandfather left the Coast Guard to try his lot as a mining engineer in rugged, desolate Bisbee, Arizona, Grandma went with him. When my grandfather wanted to move to New York to work on the stock exchange, my grandmother went with him. When the market crashed in 1929, my grandparents came back to Corona where they became citrus farmers.

In the early 1930’s my grandmother began to work for the Corona schools as the school doctor. She helped treat children during the tuberculosis epidemic of the 1930’s and 1940’s. She established vaccination programs as well as nutritional and hygiene programs for the less fortunate. Dr. Todd provided meals for children who were not sure to receive them at home. She had a bathtub brought into the health
office so children who did not have plumbing in their homes could bathe at school. She would bring oranges from home so that children whose diets were supplemented
with that nasty castor oil could wash it down with fresh fruit. She served in this capacity for over 25 years.

World War II was a busy time for Dr. Todd. My grandfather died suddenly two weeks before Pearl Harbor was bombed. She was left with four children to raise. She was also entrusted to care for three nieces and nephews whose parents were
missionaries in Central America. She opened her home during the war to several military doctors and their families who were stationed at the Norco Naval Hospital. She also was left with the responsibility of running the family citrus farm. In addition to all of this, she continued to serve as the school doctor.

Doctor Todd was a committed Christian and was very involved in the Corona First Baptist Church. She believed that her God required action and outreach. In later years she could be seen in her walker picking fruit from her fruit trees to send to the Corona Settlement House and Senior Center.

All through her life she retained a keen interest in medicine, education and her faith. She wisely understood that education was larger than school and valued travel and varied experiences as well as a formal education. I can remember her reading her medical alumni magazines well into her ‘90’s. She often commented that “An education is something that can never be taken away from you.” She played a mean game of scrabble. Dr.Todd died in 1993 at the age of 102.

Dr. Todd had countless impressive accomplishments during her life. She is remembered by many as a woman pioneer in medicine. More importantly, she is remembered as loving mother and grandmother and great-grandmother who embodied the idea that those who have been given much have a responsibility to give to those with less.

Dr. Bernice Jameson Todd Elementary School

Kathy Rodriguez took this photo. Bernice was our grandmother on Dad's side. Here is a link to the Dr. Bernice Jameson Todd Elementary School web site. Turn the sound down unless you like digital chattering toucans. Otherwise, it's a pretty web site and it has a link to some information about her life and the reason they named a school in her honor.