Celebrating the Life of  Nanette L. Cooper
January 31, 2010 – 2:00 p.m.
Gahanna Chapel Memorial Service
By Andrew Hoover
Music Prelude: Spring by Vivaldi

Message:	Nan Cooper has been called an old-fashioned letter writer.  Her daughter Susan tells me that Nan kept track of many through the years with her letters.

In an e-mail condolence, family friend Sara Marble Merritt writes:  My mother always looked forward to the precise handwritten Christmas card from your mother, detailing the year with her family.

Today, as we remember and honor . . . . as we celebrate and give thanks for Nanette L. Cooper . . . I wonder if – today -- we could read her beautifully-written life as a kind of complex sentence.  After all, in the 139th Psalm, the author says to God:  Thank You for making me so wonderfully complex.  That was Nan.

Let’s celebrate some of the verbs that helped compose her life.  As a people person, she drew people out of themselves, helped them to open up.  She conversed, she listened, she valued others.  Nan Cooper socialized graciously; after all, the name Nan literally means grace.

Nan played.  She was an active, athletic woman who lettered in three different sports at Ohio Northern University (from which she graduated with dual degrees in English and Physical Education).  She played tennis, basketball, field hockey, volleyball, and excelled in archery.  In later life, she was known to clobber male friends at croquet.  

And she was wonderful at table games.  In one of the on-line guest books, it has been written:  Our condolences to Nan’s family.  We played bridge together at the Polo Club.  Nan was an avid bridge player, and a good friend to all.  (Signed The Polo Bridge Club).  And she was also excellent at Scrabble, and she loved poker, and she worked the morning crossword puzzle daily.  Nan competed in life, she was a competitive woman, but always in a good-spirited way.  Someone has said:  The important thing in life is not to triumph, but to compete.  Nan got – and gave – so much in life by competing.

Out of all Nan’s verbs, give was one of the most important.  Nan gave.  I wish that I could convey this story with the eloquence it deserves.  The artistic part of this image was probably inspired by Nan’s late husband, Ben; but the rest comes from Nan’s desire to give . . . and, to love.  One Easter, as a gift to her daughter – try to visualize this as best you can – Nan took eggs, blew them out, painted them, and with her usual precision, made them into circus and zoo animals.  She created for Susan an egg menagerie, as an Easter gift.  Picture Nan, methodical but joyous (I know those are adjectives), creating this gift for her child.  That kind of giving of self is what life is about, and that’s why give is so much of the verb in Nan’s complex sentence.

Let’s think about the nouns of Nan.  A large part of why she was so strong in body and in character is that she grew up a farm girl.  Born on the last day of August, 1921, in Piqua, Ohio.  Nan was the apple of her father’s eye, a girl who could help on the farm, who could drive a truck and a tractor.  A girl who played in the hayloft, played in the “crick”, and shot BB guns in the basement of the house.

And often, farm kids grow up to be the best travelers.  Apart from the life she lived in Venezuela and Mexico with Ben and Susan, Nan enjoyed seeing as much of the world as she could.  Jamaica.  The Outer Banks.  The author Ray Bradbury said:  Stuff your eyes with wonder.  Live as though you’d fall dead in 10 seconds!  See the world!  It’s much more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.

What Nan did not experience in her physical travels, she took in between the covers of books.  She was an avid reader, book club member, sharing books with Susan.  I heard someone say on the news just yesterday that books are dying, but the interviewer said back:  Not as long as there’s someone to read them.

Among the most beautiful nouns of Nan is that she was a baker.  Her husband Ben grew up in a family that didn’t have the means to celebrate much C

22 files added to the album Memorial Service 1/31/10

Dear Susan!

As a child I always liked you and your parents. Perhaps already at that early age I found people interesting, who lived in foreign lands....perhaps it was because you were a red head too. I do not have many memories of your father... but I always enjoyed your mother very much. She was a very "down-to-earth" person, not the least bit silly or old- fashioned, . . .  
When I would see her at a family reunion, I headed right for her, as I knew she would be a good conversation partner. I have often regretted, that I did not keep in contact with you and your family....lives are busy, things go too quickly and one needs friends, who are not far away...but I have very fond memories of the times we did have together...so short they were. . . .

I often use the silver cufflinks with Maya design, which your parents gave me for graduation...and of-course each time when I put them on and go to a concert, an opera or a ball I think about Ben, Nan and Susan. In-between times the cufflinks are antiques!

It is strange for me that the generation of our parents are leaving the stage. Somehow I do not feel I am filling in the gap, that they have left. But then again the world has changed so much in 50 years, we perhaps fill-in other "gaps." I am happy that I knew such loving relatives like Ben and Nan, Paul and Virginia, Ned and June...like my parents they were the "home-builders" of the 1950s...not always easy to please and not always tolerant, but they loved their children and gave them not only a good home, but also a good education and moral standards and a great start in life. I am sure you are just as proud of your parents as I am of mine.  . . . I know Nan was an important part of your life and I am sure you will miss her. I hope you have a good relationship to Jason and your grandchildren, to give you comfort at the loss of Nan.  When I read about your being a grandmother I almost lost my breath....I still have you as a college girl in my head! ha

So, this has been a bit too long....but Nan is to blame for that....she provoked many thoughts in my life and even after her leaving us, she gives me alot to talk about.

Much love to you and your family....Chuck

Lit a candle in memory of Nanette L. Cooper

4 files added to the album Birthday party 2009

Mom taught me many things, which I am still learning.
She taught me to sew, to cook, and to read to my own son and grandchildren as she read to me. 
She modeled being a gracious hostess and using proper etiquette.
She put her family first, which I have tried to do. 
She taught me to love with my whole heart—as she loved my father and me.
My mother was stoic and steady in crisis but warm and loving with her family and friends. 
When tornadoes threatened, we calmly colored in the basement. 
In spite of floods, strikes, and revolutions, she drove me to school. 
She listened to me and making me feel valued.
Mom was competitive whether it was scrabble, bridge, or, back in the day, badminton, golf, ping pong, or volleyball.
She taught me to drive a stick shift, to keep a house, and to play.
When confronted with a problem, she worked to overcome it. 
When something needed to be done, she did it. 
My mother was conscientious, reliable, and loyal to her friends and family. 
She showed her appreciation for gifts, for dinners, and for time spent. 
She shared her books, which often contained her handwritten corrections.
Mom was always in my corner, a fan, an encouraging force.
She lit up when I brought her flowers or chocolates, 
But mostly she lit up when her family came to spend time with her. 
Mom expected my best and embraced the person I became. 
She was a gift to her family and friends.
Thank you, Mom, Nanette, dear mother.

To my Sister Susan, Jason, Ainslee and Ben --- Memories of Nan
I first became acquainted with Susan's mother, your grandmother/great grandmother, Mrs. Cooper, when Ed and Susan moved from Mexico to Michigan.  We often went up to go to Ohio State football games or just visit.  Susan's mother, as I usually referred to her then, lived in a condo nearby.  She was a constant caregiver for Jason, the grandson she so loved, and would keep him while we did adult things like go out to dinner or a movie.  But she also was a good cook and invited us to her home for dinner sometimes.  When Ed, Susan, and Jason would come to visit us in Ohio, she would do house checks and take care of the poodles.  Sometimes we would all play board games or cards around the table after dinner.  But for all that, she had some difficult years there in Michigan for a while following her husband's tragic death in Mexico.  She coped with loneliness, depression, and alcohol issues—all of which she overcame with her indomitable spirit—and became Susan’s best friend and support.  

When Ed and Susan semi-retired, they moved back to Ohio to be near Jason and Ainslee, and a few years later, Ben.  First they rented a condo near us while they house-hunted.  Not about to be left behind, Susan's mother came right along with them and lived in a condo a few doors up.  Then, as our friendship expanded, she became "Nanette" to me.  Over the years of dinners and games, I came to admire her reserve.  She was ever watchful, the sharp-eyed and eared observer, who usually gave her opinion only when asked.  Her responses were always on point, and only occasionally caustic.  Her mind was ever-sharp, as she read a lot and played bridge regularly.
 
So, when Ed and Susan bought their condo, of course Nanette lived in another one not far away.  We celebrated many birthdays and holidays, and always Christmas Eve and Thanksgiving together.  After she couldn't drive well, Bob and I would often pick her up before and take her home after family gatherings.  She also had a terrific sense of humor.  One Christmas she baked Bob his usual chocolate pecan pie with a note that said the pie was for him and the blue plate was especially for me, but I couldn't have any of his pie.  And Nanette always came to the Carol Sing at our house each year before Christmas.  We even went to visit at the beach one summer and she was there, too.  She was always there—for us, and all of her family, a solid presence even as her body became frailer.  We would talk, she and I, about politics, yes, but more often about her concerns for her family.  After my own mother died, she slowly but surely became "Nan" and "another mother" to me.  We fully became part of each other's family.  I cherish the pitcher that she was given as a wedding present that Susan has passed on to me.
 
On my last day with her, Nan, Susan, Ainslee, and I played scrabble together.  How lucky I am to have the memory of that typical day.  I give you my memories to add to your own.  She loved Susan from her birth, cared always for Jason, adored Ainslee, and cherished Ben.  You will think of her every time you turn a card, place a token on a board game, or eat a piece of pie.  She is part of you.  Love, Kitten

I am so sorry for your loss. I'll always remember your mother and  father as kind, generous and loving people. I was always made welcome in your home on Belmont.  Do you remember the enormous snow cat your father made (with our help) and then the warm lunch your mother prepared for our frozen selves?     My mother always looked forward to the precise handwritten Christmas card from your mother detailing her year with your family.  It's hard to go on without your parents but you have memories of them that will always be with you.       Sara Marble Merritt

OBITUARY

Nanette L. Cooper

31 August, 1921 – 22 January, 2010

Schoedinger Midtown

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