A week and a half ago, Paul paid me an especially profound compliment: “Jonathan, you are a very stabilizing force for your Mom. And for others around you.” The statement didn’t register as particularly significant at first, but on my drive home from helping to pack Grandmommy’s belongings into storage, a deeper consideration began to work on my mind. So why were his words so meaningful to me? In fact, a few days before, Cindy had again shared over the phone how calming talking with me was, and indicated this was how other family members felt as well. I had heard various iterations of this comment before and was thankful, but it didn’t strike the same chord until now. I had heard things like this at work and through volunteerism, like when Ray Holley once gave me the “Steady Oak” award his year as President of our Rotary Club. 
So again, why was it now such a big deal?
When I was a child, everyone who knew me then would probably agree I was highly energetic, expressive and insatiably active. I might even venture to say it was thought I was out of control. Chaotic. Spontaneous. To the untrained eye, I think it is fair to say that from time to time I demonstrated and cultivated an environment of uncertainty – not necessarily with negative intentions – but nonetheless extremely unpredictable. Yet here, 36 years in, I was told I am a stabilizing force? For myself, my family and even for those around me?
As I drove home, my mind drifted to consider Grandmommy’s influence and some history. Before I was born, after her divorce, she remarried and to Carl Fremberg. Her choice was telling. I’ve been told he was a provider who put my mother and uncle to hard, manual work. And together they accomplished amazing things for the family. Grandmommy chose a hard-working, stable man to join her, Sue and Jeff. 
After I was born, and during my childhood I remember visiting her and Granddaddy, and being welcomed with Pinkies. Pinkies were pink wintergreen candies that she gave James and I upon arrival at their home (normally at night). This treat could be relied upon each time we came. She moved up to Columbus, Ohio to take care of Pop when he approached the end of his life, serving to provide a safe and consistent home for his final years. He wasn’t her related to her by blood, but nonetheless she was honorable and loving as his adopted daughter. 
While there and even after moving to Florida, she maintained longstanding extended family contacts, bridging all of the histories and relationships for us. Grandmommy came to Tallahassee to take care of James and I when our mother couldn’t, continuing to keep us in school and home despite the enormous challenge of caring for two children approaching their pre-teens in a tumultuous time. Jeff followed her lead and even let me come live with him in Germany for a brief period of time, until I moved to Colorado with my brother and father. And finally, throughout all our years, Grandmommy maintained and championed our holiday traditions, rituals, manners and family experience… which in many ways continues to inform my perspective of Thanksgiving and Christmas to this day.
On that drive back to Jacksonville, I couldn’t help but see a common theme of stability throughout all the memories I have of her. The providing of and expression of it throughout her life. Was my Mom’s push to give James and I a consistent and stable home life influenced by this? Did she learn to build this stabilizing influence from her mother and my Great-Grandmother Nanna, post-Great Depression? And was it real… or just a simplistic and over-gracious credit to her ingenuity brought on by my sentimentality? 
I don’t think that matters… at least not to me. I look at the results, the products of her life. Her daughter, her son, and the remaining family like James and I. Her legacy and love are present in us, and I am proud to think her lifetime push to create stability in the family is alive, well and visible through our works. 
I will miss her but am thankful for the time I was able to share with her. And the lessons I learned from her, both consciously and otherwise. All in all, I can say she was truly a stabilizing force in my life.

I think Bonnie’s paintings best describe who she was.  
Like her paintings Bonnie was bright.  Her personality filled a room with yellows and sunshine.  Sue’s favorite color is yellow – I think that’s her mom.  
Like her paintings, Bonnie was colorful.  She had a real flare for color in her style, in her manner and in her accents.  
Like her paintings, Bonnie was outgoing.  Everybody know her name and she knew everybody – whether that was a Bealls’ or at Westminster.  Bonnie reached out to all people.  She loved large.  
Like her paintings, she took white canvas and created something beautiful – what ever she touched, whatever she came in contact with – she made it beautiful.   
Like her paintings, she brought the ordinary into the extraordinary. A street scene becomes a bustle of human activity.  Something was happening and that something was good, pure and lovely. A moment of life became alive with activity – that’s Bonnie.  
Her paintings were about people living and living fully.  Bonnie lived and lived fully.  
What an adventure – and that’s Bonnie.

Grandmommy grew up in the Buckeye State, surrounded by people of manners and character. Grandmommy’s surroundings served her well growing up. She later passed on lessons of table etiquette and manners to her children and grandchildren, grooming my brother and me to later treat our ladies with respect and genteel kindness. She taught us how to set a table, how to escort a lady, and to always open the door for one. Me being my curious self, I got told “M.Y.O.B.” more times than I can remember (that’s Grandmommy speak for “Mind Your Own Business”). 
One of the first memories I have of her is our road trip from my home in Tallahassee to her home in Columbus, Ohio. I was either just entering primary school or even before. I can’t remember exactly. She had a Streamliner trailer and a van. We made our way slowly up north, stopping at camp sites, scenic spots, and historical landmarks along the way. One place we visited was the house of Joel Chandler Harris, the first to publish a compilation of Br’er Rabbit stories. We also went to Lookout Mountain where I got my first lesson of Native American and Civil War history and got to glimpse seven states all at once. 
Climbing the switchbacks leading through the Great Smoky Mountains, we toured the “Forbidden Caverns” in Tennessee, where I learned what stalactites and stalagmites are and how they’re formed. Also heard the story of Daniel Boone “jumping” the Miami River. We passed the time singing Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” and reading the comics. Grandmommy especially liked the “Peanuts” cartoon strip. 
Being home in Columbus was like living in the history I had sampled on the way up there. Grandmommy lived in her father’s home, an enormous farm home built in the 1800s. It had a massive barn, the original milk house, and gas heating. All kinds of experiences left impressions both modern and earthy on me from early on. We went to the Ohio state fair, the most amazing fair I’ve ever been to. Throughout childhood, Jonathan and I referred to every other fair as “dinky,” because they paled in comparison to the one in Ohio.  
Growing up, we went on to spend several Christmases with Grandmommy in Ohio. On at least two of them, we went to the Ohio Theatre to see the Nutcracker Suite. You’ve got to realize how special that was for me then. Jonathan and I were 7 and 9, and going to a Russian ballet during Christmas. The performance itself was hardly riveting to a 7 year-old. I stayed awake for all of the first ten minutes, but at least being there made me feel special. 
Grandmommy used to take us out to eat. I remember her taking us to Big Boy restaurants –one of the original chain diners. She also took us to an old-fashioned ice cream parlor in downtown Columbus called Graeter’s, which has the most delicious black-cherry chocolate chip ice cream and the gooiest banana boat sundaes I’ve ever had. Grandmommy used to grin with delight as we lapped up every bite of our sundaes. 
She took us to our first science center, COSI, a hands-on experience where we explored everything from an actual space capsule to a mine-shaft replica. She also shared with us her love of painting by taking us to The Topiary Park, an artistic interpretation of Georges Seurat’s Sunday In the Park. 
Grandmommy was also there during difficult times. When Jonathan and I were caught between a rock and a hard place because of parental strife, Grandmommy was our “first responder.” She drove down from Ohio to Tallahassee and took care of us until our parents got things sorted out. 
In the spirit of one of her embroidered pillows in her house in Columbus which said, “If Mom says ‘No’, ask Grandma”, Grandmommy was the hippest of babysitters. Every night we rented movies from Blockbuster Video and ate our fill of T.V. dinners. Later in life, she was also there for me during an emotionally tough time. In my first year of high school, I was going through a sort of teenage depression. I had moved away from my group of friends in Colorado, back to Tallahassee where I had no real friends and a bit of a culture shock to boot. 
Every afternoon that fall semester I would sit in my room and play Solitaire for hours. That Christmas, when we went to Ohio, Grandmommy took me to the public library, where we found a book of card games. Together we learned a few new ones, and I took that knowledge back to Tallahassee with me to make some new friends. 
When we were a little older, Grandmommy moved to Tallahassee for good. From then on, we saw each other a lot more often. She was always there to lend a helping hand. In my first year of college, before I had a car, during the fall and spring breaks, Grandmommy would drive me to Atlanta, half of the way to my college, and wait for me in Atlanta on my way back. For the second half, I would hitch a ride with classmates. 
Driving with Grandmommy to and from the ATL, I would read to her and discuss my thoughts about books I was reading and study my lines for the plays I was in. Grandmommy was patient as always and delicate with her feedback. Even when I insisted on her telling me I needed to practice my lines more, she was always so reticent to give negative feedback. She was really the kindest, sweetest woman anyone could hope to have as their grandmother. 
If I had to pick one word that epitomizes my Grandmother, I’d have to say she was “classy.” She really made a grandson proud. In her lifetime, she traveled the world and traversed the country. She was an adventurer, a golfer, a painter, a volunteer, a teacher, a mother of two, a grandmother of four, and always the paragon of kindness, style and grace. She was one of my role models. 
It breaks my heart that she’s gone now, but I am also so happy that I enjoyed so many happy memories with her throughout these years. She played no small part in shaping who I have become today. Her legacy stretches way beyond me, but a small part of how I intend to let her spirit live on is to raise my children to escort and open the door for their grandmother.

I just came across a painting by a 'Shirley La Plante' with a date of 1990 on the frame but not sure if this is the date of the painting or not. This painting is of a cute little girl in a red dress holding flowers sitting in a hanging chair. Can anyone help me with this?

It doesn't feel like a different place.  It feels like the same old place, just way lonelier. It's like a big chunk has been cut out of the best part.

I first met Bonnie, in approximately 1969 as she too, was also my 6th grade reading teacher at Tropical Elemetary School in Merritt Island, Fl. Her beloved daughter Sue went on to marry my brother Fletcher Flieder on Nov. 14, 1977. Bonnie was kind, and at the same time serious and passionate about expecting the best of her students. As Sue and I got to know each other before the wedding, she took me to her beautiful home on Banana river many times where Bonnie would have her many gorgeous paintings displayed and was always in the midst of working on another one. Bonnie always had a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye and always made me feel so welcomed. Even their billygoats in the backyard made me feel welcomed when one gave me a playful kick one or two times.
 She was very fortunate to be so loved by her children and grandchildren. Our whole family will miss her and I have many happy memories I will always treasure.

Bonnie "Mrs. Fremberg" was my 6th grade teacher at Tropical Elementary.  She loved my creative writing and always encouraged me.  Years later, my brother Fletcher married her daughter Sue!  Her sweet smile and zest for life was so fun to be around.  I am blessed for knowing this wonderful lady.

Bonnie was my mother "Jo" best friend. They lived in the same neighborhood for many years in Columbus Ohio. I heard many funny stories about the fun they had, they could be very silly together. She was a wonderful bridge player, my mother and she spent a lot of time getting better at bridge.i enjoyed going to lunch with them when I visited my mom. I remember her infectious laugh.
Sue you lost your mom and a beautiful woman. I'm so glad you had her for so long.  
With love,
Sandra Neale

To life, to love, the celebration of your Mother Suzanne. She is at peace because of your unconditional love. May God comfort you and your family through your grief.

I enjoyed interacting with Bonnie during her stay at the Westminster Oaks Health Center, where she sometimes ate with with my Mother Martha.

I knew her as Mrs Fremberg when she was my teacher at Tropical Elementary in the early 70s.  She also lived in my subdivision and I remember that she dressed as a witch one Halloween, having a steamy cauldron on the porch, to boot.  She had a way with children.  I don't remember much from those early years, but I remember her...

Didn't know Bonnie but knew her daughter Sue for years and she couldn't have raised a more wonderful daughter..a tribute to her and I know she will be remember forever and often ....

OBITUARIO

Bonita Bonnie Shirley LaPlante

26 junio, 1928 – 3 noviembre, 2015

Culley's MeadowWood Funeral Home

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