Roberta Ann Minor "Bobbie" Harris

Survivors include daughters Sue (Larry) Ashcraft of Denton, Tex., Pat (John) Wilson of Chattanooga and Jean (Dave) Bryant of Tijeras, New Mexico; grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and sister, Lois Bazilchuk of Massachusetts.

Funeral services will be held at 11:00 a.m., at the East Chapel of Chattanooga Funeral Home on Moore Road on Saturday, Jan. 3, 2015. Presiding will be Revs. Eric Youngblood and Corby Shields of Rock Creek Fellowship on Lookout Mountain.

Visitation will be one hour prior to the service at the funeral home chapel. Interment will be at National Cemetery.

She was raised in Connecticut, trained to be a nurse, and was in the Navy tending to the soldiers during World War II.

At Jacksonville, Bobbie had a whirlwind six-week courtship with a handsome pilot from the West, Robert Harris, and “Bob and Bobbie” were married in six weeks and headed West for a new life. Her mother was taken aback by the suddenness and impetuosity of it, but Grandma Harris thought it was great.

She devoted herself to her three daughters as they watched Farmington at the New Mexico portion of the Four Corners grow into a town. Later, she and Bob moved to Albuquerque where they were mainstays of the Hope EV Free Church. While in Chattanooga, she joined Rock Creek Fellowship.

Bobbie loved to play bridge, though it aggravated her partners when she steadfastly refused to bid without a “five-card suit” though she might have as many as 15 points.

She did not turn down dessert and always said “sure” when it was offered. She liked gobs of butter on her bread.

As the plant nurse at a mining operation, she did not flinch to rappel down the side of a tall building with the men, and she thought it would be a lark while in her 80s to jump out of a plane like the former President Bush.

Bobbie fussed constantly at Dodger the terrier, but threw his play toy back to him for an hour and fed him hunks of her meal under the table though that was strictly forbidden.

She had an endearing little way of pronouncing her contractions.

Bobbie was the best clothes folder we ever had.

She could not abide a fly or an unpicked up crumb.

An avid reader, her preferences were sometimes on the spicy side. As for her water, it needed to be warm – no ice.

She was just a little thing. A giant of a home health care worker professed that she had trouble finding her under the covers. A nurse proclaimed: “She ain’t no bigger than a minute.”

But she was full of spunk. Always one to speak her mind, the nurses at the hospital were amused when she wondered what kind of “menagerie” she had fallen into.

Bobbie took up for the preachers that were run off and the choir directors who were wronged.

She had a special affection for the mavericks of the family and was on their side through thick and thin.

Nobody could make an apple pie like Grandma. No one ever will again.