My  late condolences to your family. I grew up in  Indian Hills and was friends with Clark, he was in my Brother, Bob  Hennsler class. I road the bus with  Clark and  sister Heather. We lived  on the top of Seminole Road.  I was younger  than them ,  however; nI got to know Clark and I know your niece Becky Streeter very well, and Barbara and I also remember  your brother, Larry very well.   I knew Clark from school and Larry from The Kingdom Hall.  Larry use to take my  older brother Bob, Dana  Hepfinger,  Clark,  Don and Gene  Ward and the rest of the Indian Hills boys  on adventures, or at least that is what I am told by my brother.  In any case. I think about your family when I drive thru Indian Hills to hike in Evergreen, and  wanted to extend my  very late condolences to all of you.  

My Mother was a strong woman who lived her life by her faith, beliefs and values.

She was honest, kind and generous with her time and love.

She did her best to teach me to choose right over wrong, respect my elders, be polite and hold the door for others.

She loved me unconditionally as she did all of her children and she forgave me for my mistakes and lapses into poor judgment.

I love my Mother very much and will miss her always.

Clarke

Remembering Mom

Peaches and Geraniums and people:

Good Morning.  

Our sisters Heather and Beth send their greetings and deep appreciation for your thoughts and prayers.

Our sister-in-law Barbara, and her daughter Becky, also send their greetings and thanks for your condolences and prayers.  Many of you know Barbara, our  brother Larry’s widow, and their daughter Becky, our oldest niece.

I’d like to share a couple of moments about our mother.

Some lessons  are apparent as they happened and remain there, present or just a thought or two away and useful all our lives.  Others are more subtle.

One of the first sort, the kind that are always there, a thought or two a way:

Beth, mom and I were sitting down to dinner one sunny evening when two of my buddies ran across the field from St. Anne’s and ducked into our tool shed.  Mom  wondered what they were up to and before I could speculate a fellow came knocking at the door asking if two boys were here.  Mom assured him they were not.  The next day when I saw my friends at school— I think we were in 7th grade— they knew they’d not gotten away with anything but that they’d been granted a pardon -- mom expected them to take a lesson from what happened and be better people.  Of course I learned the lesson too.  The day before, I’d been with my buddies when he chased all three (maybe 4 of us,  I can’t remember if Dave was with us the first time and since his mother is here in the church, I'm not going to name him.) after we pelted his car with pine cones tossed from the rocks at St. Anne’s.

Two weeks ago I came home in the afternoon to the scent of ripe peaches.  One of the three peaches on the counter had that perfect, ripe smell and give to the touch.  Each bite was sweet, juicy ,and filled with the flavor of sun, sweetness only a Colorado peach has. 

Savoring each bite I became aware that I always associate  the remarkable treasure  a fresh peach from the west slope is with my mom.  That’s one of the earliest memories I have of mom— her delight in sharing a perfect  preach.  And her delight and appreciation for good, fresh foods— what mattered was not the quantity  but that is was  fresh, real and honestly made or grown and prepared simply and enjoyed.

Every summer as I grew up here mom always had a few flower beds.   There’d be a small variety of flowers that would grow here at this altitude and bloom through the summer to add some spots of color and she always had geraniums.  She’d most often coax some or all of them through the winter by  sitting them in a south facing window. 

Some years we’d have a small vegetable garden.  Mom knew  it was important we had a few fresh home grown vegetables when we could nurse those out of the short summers here  in this mountain valley at 7200 feet.  And of course  pulling weeds was about more than doing one’s chores because chores are what kids do.  At some point I realized growing  gardens, pulling weeds and watering the  flowers and plants was about  a bigger lesson in life— making room for the things that really matter and nurturing the good out of life and celebrating those special moments- special people...  I was  thinking about theses lessons as I sat on my patio last weekend, reading and reflecting and noticing the small blossoms here and there in my pots filled with flowers and herbs and geraniums.

That peach I ate two weeks ago was the first  thing I had when I came home from being at hospice with mom and members of the family when mom passed.   I realized it was a fitting tribute.  

I’ve been noticing those things these past weeks-- those simple, every day things mom shared with each of us, her children,  simple things and actions that made life all the more sublime.   Teaching by her actions and words what it is to live a life in a state of grace— to be accepting of people, to be forgiving and to take joy in the simple blooming of a flower, the joy of fresh fruits, a well beaked pie, crispy fried chicken on Sunday’s.  To treasure family and friends and to celebrate life.  And the lesson that life’s moments like fruits and vegetables, that the best one’s are   only available for a few short weeks.  The people in one’s life are like that too, truly only  here for moments, they are special and to be treasured.

Memories of Grandma Ione
The way we know and understand another person is always experienced through the kind of relationship we have with that person.  In this case, my experience of Ione Buchanan, it was the relationship of grandson.  In that light, I would like to share a bit about what she was to me.

In the eyes of a grandchild, it matters very little what your grandparents have done - what grand things they have accomplished, or how they have made a difference in the world at large.  What matters is who they are as a person.  The character, heart, and attitude of a person is the true and complete definition of what a person is as a grandparent.  Perhaps, in the end, that is all that really matters about us no matter what our role or place. 

So, to me Grandma Ione was a person of extraordinary character.  To me she was always gentle, always kind, always generous, and always very patient!  I never heard my Grandma complain - although I'm quite sure there were others she may have complained to at times - but to me she faced every difficulty with optimism and faith.  Even in her later years when I know she had many difficult days - whenever I asked how she was doing, her answer was always the same - "oh, not too bad."  She had learned to endure hard things and at times even very painful things, and still love and think of others, and to not be consumed with her own problems.

My grandma knew the great value of time and what a precious gift it is - a gift to be given away.  I remember many times as a child when she would plan a special outing with the grandkids - fishing at Buffalo Creek, or lunch at Furrs Cafeteria (I loved that place because I got to eat as much food as I wanted!), or a trip to Evergreen Lake.  In giving her time, she gave herself - and that was a wonderful gift.

My Grandma also had the amazing capacity to enjoy us - just the way we were.  As I myself am growing older, I know that older people do not always deal well with small children.  They are messy, rambunctious, noisy, sometimes out of control, and they break things.  Many older people deal with children by placing them in a straight jacket of rules with very confining boundaries - in order to control their childish behavior and make children more tolerable, by making them more like grownups!  But that was never true of my Grandma.  She let us be kids.  There were rules and boundaries, mind you, but the boundaries were very broad.  Maybe I should thank my Aunts and Uncles for all the on-the-job training on this one, but Grandma did know how to enjoy us as kids, and not expect us to grow up before our time!  That is a true gift of love and requires patience and wisdom.

Lastly, I remember my Grandma Ione as a person who had a genuine faith in God, and as a person who knew God personally, had a deep relationship with Him.  Hers was not a faith that needed lots of outward show in order to somehow validate it.  Rather, it  was a faith that resided deep in her heart and soul and proved itself daily in the challenges and tests of everyday life.  She was a woman of such great character, I am convinced, because she had allowed God to shape and mold her life as she lived in quiet and sincere obedience to Him - trusting in Jesus to carry her through all of life's valleys, and to walk with her in all of life's high places.  Her quiet faith was imparted to me, more by example than by word or lecture.  There is something powerful about a life lived in the genuineness of real faith!  My grandma certainly modeled that!

There is a great deal more I could say - my hope is that this helps you rekindle your own memories of this wonderful person.  Thank you, Grandma for being one of God's precious gifts to me!  I hope that I in turn was, in some measure, a precious gift to you!  By your love for me, I would guess I was!  Love - Tim D.

Dear Bill and Bonnie... your precious mother, Ione, is with the Lord Jesus now Whom she loved and lived for.  She surely will be missed.   May the Lord bless you and all the family in their walk with our Living Lord.  "Looking unto Jesus the Author and Finisher of our faith..."  Heb. 12:2
Praying for you, lovingly, Ed and Virginia Haynes (Henderson,Neb.)

Dear Clarke, Karen, Dillon and Samantha
We are so sorry for the sadness you have suffered with the loss of both of your Mothers [Grandmothers] recently.  Know that you are in our daily thoughts and prayres.  Our Love and deepest condolences 
David, Diane, Dave, Mike, Hilary and Zack

Ione will be missed.  She was the stable one umong the wild flowers.  

I first remember Ione when we had to take her husband to the hospital 
just before his passing.  We shared a frendship since.  

No matter how, good, bad, indifferent or just plain messed up we became, Ione was there unjudging and helping.  I will miss her.

Dennis R. Wilkinson, Chief IHFD Ret.

OBITUARY

Ione Buchanan

September 29, 1914 – August 12, 2010

Olinger Funeral, Cremation & Cemetery - Chapel Hill

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