Barbara Ann Hilton

Barbara Ann (Schroeder) Hilton, age 84, Raytown MO, passed away on July 10, 2017. The visitation will take place at Mt. Moriah, Newcomer & Freeman Funeral Home, located at 10507 Holmes Rd. Kansas City, MO 64131 on Thursday, July 13 from 6:00pm-8:00 pm. The memorial services will take place at the funeral home on Friday, July 14, at 3:00pm. Burial will follow in Mt. Moriah Cemetery. Memorial contributions can be made to American Macular Degeneration Foundation at www.macular.org/how-donate.

Barbara was born on May 8, 1933 in Independence MO. She graduated from William Chrisman High School in 1951 and married John B. Hilton in 1952. She was a member of Peace Lutheran Church in Kansas City MO. Mrs. Hilton was employed at Sears for many years and was an IRS Enrolled Agent, working for H and R Block for over 40 years. She is survived by her daughter Charisse L. Hilton Miller and son John Scott Hilton, son-in-law Mark Miller, four grandchildren, J. Scott Hilton II, his wife, Courtney, Joshua S. Hilton, Jacelyn E. Miller, Justin S. Hilton, his wife Felicia, and four great-grandchildren. She will be dearly missed.

Arrangements under the direction of Mt Moriah, Newcomer & Freeman Funeral Home, Kansas City, MO.

Eulogy:

I first met Barbara 37 years ago when Charisse and I began dating as college students, and I can say that she left an impression on me from day one. Barbara’s persona then, as she was in her 80’s, was that of an audacious rebel. This surprised me, because then 19 year old Charisse was anything but. Barbara and I occasionally butted heads in those early days, but once Charisse and I were married, Barb and I became friends.

Barbara threw off the shackles of what society expected of her, and women in general, and remained until her death a bold, strong and independent woman. This during a period of history when women were expected to accept, without complaint, a subordinate position to men.

In that sense Barbara’s life was an anachronism; a person out of place and time. Barbara had more in common with Amelia Earhart than June Cleaver; more in common with Eleanor Roosevelt than Edith Bunker; more in common with Annie Oakley, Nellie Bly, Calamity Jane, Katherine Hepburn, than Tammy Wynette.

Barbara was a pilot, and apparently a bit of a daredevil, even in the air. She was a dirt bike rider and a lover of fast cars and boats, even in her 80’s. She loved speed, and I don’t mean the drug!

Barbara was tenacious, whether as a softball pitcher, an explorer of the great American west, or teacher to her children. Barbara helped raise two confident and independent children in Scott and Charisse. She taught them to take measured risks; to not fear the cliff but to sneak out to the edge, to see all of nature’s beauty around them, not just the limited view glimpsed from the road or car seat. The hills and mountains were to be climbed on motorcycles, not looked at in books. The rivers were to be forded and explored, not simply waded in. Rocks and geological features were to be examined, understood, collected, not simply walked upon. The love and appreciation of nature was one the hallmarks of Barbara’s life, a trait that both of her children share in equal measure.

Barbara had a deep love for her four grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren, one of whom has yet to be born, though she was loved equally.

She was generous to all.

Barbara had one of the great laughs of all time, a cackle, that when combined with a campfire, sister Martha, and maybe a drink or two, could be heard in the next valley.

As Barbara’s body began to betray her whip-smart mind some years ago, she rarely, if ever, complained, and if anybody had the right to complain about the ails of aging, it was her. Barbara was unequivocally, the toughest person I’ve ever met. I don’t mean the toughest woman I’ve ever met. I mean the toughest person. I would be up here another hour detailing the health trials and tribulations that she suffered the last decade of her life, which I will not do. Throughout it all, no matter how many times she was forced to rise or sit through severe arthritic pain, was poked for the millionth time for blood, asked to sleep in impossible hospital conditions, undergone the confusion of waking up after anesthesia or endured the indignity of life in a rehab facility, she rarely, if ever complained. She did complain a bit about rehab, always insisting that she didn’t need it, but that was about it.

I have learned, and we all can learn from Barbara’s life. We can learn that complaining does little to change life’s conditions, that a determined, head down, step by step march against the head wind of adversity is the way to attack life. We can learn that to laugh at adversity is more therapeutic than crying from it. We can learn that being enveloped in nature is superior to driving past it. We can learn to be true to ourselves, and not to succumb to the pressures of societies expectations. And above all, we can be reminded that love is the greatest gift of all, and one that transcends our differences and binds us together.

She will be remembered.

She will be missed.