Colleen Alessandra Jennings

Colleen Frances Alessandra Jennings died peacefully at home on October 29, 2024, while sitting in one of her favorite chairs. She is survived by four children, seven grandchildren, six great-grandchildren, and the great community of Houston that she called home for 90 of her 94 years.

Colleen (once addressed as Colonel Leen A. Jennings by an unsuspecting marketer) was born to Antoinette Marie Griffin and Anthony Alessandra in Houston, Texas, on March 22, 1930. The daughter of an Irish mother and a Sicilian father, she grew up on a diet of joie de vivre (that is, accordions) and depression-era-determination. She tap-danced on her family’s Heights porch on Fugate St., learned to shout loudly enough to be heard at boisterous Irish-Italian family gatherings, and excelled in all things musical and social. In 1947, she matriculated at The Rice Institute (later renamed University) and was promptly wooed by a charming and equally determined Ed Jennings. He was a WWII veteran 7 years her senior who had a passion for math (gambling) and a talent for engineering.

Their thrilling courtship included Brandy Alexanders at the Balinese room and culminated in a proposal by Ed – which 18 year-old Colleen was not willing to accept, absent a clear sign from the Virgin Mary. She fervently prayed for such a sign, which soon came in the form of a gas stove – yes, that decidedly unromantic household appliance – which she won at a bingo game on a card purchased by Ed. As he put it, she could either buy him out of his half of the stove, or marry him, and she was plumb out of stove money. His gamble paid off; marry him she did in 1949, a marriage that lasted for 71 years. Colleen spent the following decades raising her five children, returning to Rice where she finished her bachelor’s degree in 1968, volunteering in countless activities, socializing with her life-long St. Agnes Academy and Rice Institute friends, and spoiling her grandchildren to no end.

In her later years, Colleen was a committed supporter of the Houston Grand Opera, sang in the church choir, led a dance class at the Spring Branch Community Center (heavily featuring Gershwin, Berlin and Sinatra songs), rendered countless events featuring grandchildren more meaningful by her presence, and dispensed essential advice at a shocking clip (spanning from the virtues of each spouse having his or her own bottle of vodka, to the prerogative of not kissing anyone you don’t want to kiss). With grace and aplomb, she weathered the flooding of her home of 55 years in 2015’s Memorial Day flood, and then its complete inundation and annihilation by Hurricane Harvey in 2017. Ed’s passing in 2020, COVID, and her limited mobility severely restricted her social circle in her final years. Yet she celebrated on, toasting with mojitos at Easter and bourbon at Christmas, and finding every opportunity to revel in friends and family.

Colleen never met a stranger she couldn’t befriend, a baby she couldn’t charm, or a piano she couldn’t coax into a perfect rendition of a Cole Porter tune. Heaven’s gain is her family’s loss. To honor Colleen, the family asks that you pray to the Virgin Mary, eat some chocolate, sing a Verdi aria, chat with the workers and the strangers in line at the grocery store, or coo to a baby in a grocery cart. Colleen would have wanted it that way.

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Edwin Johnson Jennings, Jr. died at his home on July 9, 2020. He was preceded in death by his parents, Agnes May Smith and Edwin Johnson Jennings, Sr. He was survived by his wife, five children, seven grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. Ed’s family wishes to extend its deepest gratitude to Jewel Harden, who helped care for Ed in his final months with exceptional patience and grace and who was with him when he died suddenly.

Born in Abilene, Texas on October 28, 1922, Edwin demonstrated an early love of science by burning the wooden floor in an upstairs room as part of an unexpectedly combustible “experiment.” At the band director’s instruction, he just “held” the clarinet in the high school band so that his band could get the points associated with having a clarinet, but not having points deducted for the honking Edwin would have generated had he actually played said instrument. Thankfully, his lack of instrumental talent did not hamper him in courting his future wife, the exceptionally musical Colleen Alessandra, whom he married in Houston, TX on June 4, 1949. They were married for 71 years.

Before marriage and children, Ed served in the Philippines during WWII as an Army Air Corps meteorologist. He was eventually stationed on Apo Reef, forecasting the weather and conducting research for the Army involving the effect of the weather on radar accuracy. His weather balloon-related duties still left him with enough time to adopt and train a pet monkey. Owing to the Army’s generous ration of beer, but with no refrigeration available, he used his engineering acumen to cool the beer by immersing it in gasoline, putting it in the cargo hold of an airplane, then flying the plane at an altitude at which the evaporating gasoline and cooler temperatures aloft did the trick. He even danced with Ava Gardner at the USO in Los Angeles before he shipped out. During his 1946 voyage back to the US, he gambled himself into enough money during marathon poker games to buy a new car. He then returned to The Rice Institute to finish his studies. There, he met his future wife, nurtured lifelong friendships, then earned a B.S. in chemical engineering and an M.A. in physical chemistry, which he used during a fulfilling career in the energy industry.

He solved many pressing questions of his day, such as: why bother mowing the lawn if you can buy a lamb to eat the grass? Why buy a vacuum cleaner without knowing, via experimentation involving a hose sucking up water from a baby pool, which vacuum’s power was truly worth the price? Why pay for a storage unit if you had sufficient land (and banker’s boxes) for an Airstream in your backyard? His puckish nature generated many a prank, such as hiding his wife’s wished-for jewelry in the explicitly un-wished-for toaster oven at Christmas, and helping his grandchildren secrete pieces of fake ice containing insects into unsuspecting Christmas party-goers’ drinks.

Ed could never pass up a good bargain. He routinely returned home with at least one brown paper sack full of marked-down, past-their-prime bananas because they were a helluva deal at the local Randall’s. Family members often received identical kitchen appliances because Ed would not only “buy 1, get 3 free” from late-night television – he would buy 3, get 9 free. Lowering his unit cost was a source of great pride and delight.

Ed was fiercely committed to scouting, proudly serving as a Scoutmaster, Scout parent, and Scout grandparent for years. He believed that there was no camping trip that could not be improved by an enormous turkey cooked in a covered roaster, with dressing, gravy and cobbler (and a deck of cards) on the side. In fact, he was convinced there was no day that could not be improved by a good meal, whether that meal was a tenderloin at a steakhouse or a hot dog cooked on a wire hanger over a campfire in his Memorial backyard.

Ed loved a good poker game, especially if it included wagering on a grandchild’s ability to consume an inadvisable amount of food. He reveled in finding a good coin, in explaining the virtues of financial planning (including the time-value of money) to his young and very bored grandchildren, and in drinking a beer at lunch and a glass of buttermilk at dinner. He never arrived at an event without bringing a homemade loaf of bread, never came home from the grocery store without excess bananas, and rarely left a dinner without eating dessert. You can honor Ed by making a nickel bet, getting into sourdough, building a campfire, reaching out to an old friend, or ordering that second scoop of ice cream.

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Priscilla Marie Jennings died at her home on April 13, 2024. She was preceded in death by her father, Edwin Johnson Jennings, Jr., and was survived by her mother, Colleen Alessandra Jennings, four siblings, and seven nieces and nephews.

Priscilla was born Nov. 2, 1952 in Houston, Texas to Colleen Alessandra Jennings and Edwin Johnson Jennings, Jr. The second of five children, she relished being a big sister to her three younger siblings. She graduated from Rice University in 1975 and became a certified Montessori teacher – a role that she cherished, as she so loved teaching and supporting young children in their development.

A consummate hostess, Priscilla delighted in throwing parties, cooking the best red pasta sauce this side of Italy, and making desserts for family and friends. She loved the beach and holiday sweaters. She was as attentive to her elderly family members as her younger ones, often visiting an elderly aunt and uncle and taking them food from her kitchen. Until the onset of debilitating mental illness, Priscilla was a vivacious and caring woman.

Priscilla’s mental health challenges resulted in the end of her dedicated teaching career and the narrowing of her social circle. Mental illness cruelly robbed her of these things that were at the core of her identity.

To honor Priscilla, the family asks that you reach out to those people in your life who may be struggling with mental illness, to check on them and let them know you love them.