Jeanette Delores Miller

Jeanette paid attention. She noticed things. She remembered things. And when she found something interesting, she made sure you knew about it too.

Born in Portland, Oregon, on November 6, 1927, Jeanette's early life was not easy. Born to a single mother at a time when that carried a stigma, she was raised by her Polish grandparents. She grew up understanding, perhaps earlier than most, that the things you are given in life are not necessarily the things you would have chosen.

So she spent her life making sure the people she loved had more.

Jeanette graduated from Camas High School in 1946. That same year she was judged “Best Majorette” at the Portland Rose Festival and married Donald Dean Miller on August 24, entering adulthood with both a diploma and a baton in hand. She followed Don to Ellensburg, Washington, where she helped put him through Central Washington College.

Jeanette worked several jobs supporting Don’s education, including at the local corn cannery and finally at the Kittitas County Health Department as a secretary. With her working Don didn’t have to use his GI Bill, until Doug was born. As their family grew, she didn’t work outside the home until all five kids were in school.

She was always supportive of Don’s career paths from education to selling Kirby Vacuums and back to education. When Don contracted hepatitis, nearly dying, she kept Don separate and sanitized everything keeping Don alive and her and the kids from contracting this highly infectious disease. The jobs required moving the family a few times and she took on all the responsibilities, including selling the Central Point house by herself.

Although Jeanette never went to college herself, she made sure her children did. In fact, education became one of the great themes of her life. She wanted her children and grandchildren to have access to the things she had not had growing up. She encouraged reading, education, sports, music, and anything that might open a door. She once offered to pay her grandchildren if they would read the entire dictionary—although it is unclear if any grandchild made it past the B section.

She also had a lifelong love of baton twirling. She taught baton classes in the Central Point area and eventually taught alongside her daughters, Marci and Cheri. Both went on to compete at the national level and receive scholarships to perform with the Oregon State Marching Band. Jeanette understood the value of giving her children something to work toward, and she expected them to work hard once they got there.

With the 3 boys in sports Jeanette and Don followed them religiously. The boys were very active in baseball. While Don coached, Jeanette was in the stands encouraging and often offering the umpires “verbal assistance” in making the correct calls for her boys. One year, with Doug, Greg and Jim on different baseball teams, Don and Jeanette only missed 5 games out of well over 100 games played.

She was an avid reader, a devoted card player, and a serious baseball statistician. In retirement, she and Don traveled the country in their motor home following the ASU baseball team. She made connections with all the players, getting to know them and their families on a personal level, and became the unofficial team grandma. Jeanette also kept track of the Sun Devils’ baseball stats religiously. She was not merely attending the games; she had the radar gun and data to collect.

Jeanette also had her own unique way of staying connected to the people she loved. For years, she clipped newspaper articles, highlighted the interesting parts, and mailed them to family and friends. They weren't necessarily articles anyone had asked for. They were simply things Jeanette thought someone might find interesting. It was her way of saying, I was thinking about you. When she eventually got a computer and discovered the internet, she adapted beautifully…except for one important detail. She didn't send links to the articles—she printed and mailed them. She was, in her own way, an early social media influencer.

She was also a woman who believed in doing her part. When dining out, Jeanette could frequently be found stacking plates and tidying the table before leaving. She explained that it made things easier for the servers—and perhaps also helped justify the tip. In her later years, she was more candid about the fact that Don was a notoriously stingy tipper and she felt guilty about it. So Jeanette did what Jeanette could: stack the plates.

She was feisty, intelligent, stubborn, opinionated, and deeply engaged with the people around her. She could be cantankerous. She could be particular. She could also be extraordinarily generous with her attention.

But beneath all of that determination was a woman who never forgot what it felt like to be told no.

As a young girl, Jeanette desperately wanted to play piano. Her grandfather would not allow it; she was permitted to play only the violin. As a teenager, she secretly arranged piano lessons with a neighbor, trading housework for lessons. When her grandfather discovered her playing, he smashed the piano.

Jeanette never got the chance to become a pianist, but did have a brief stint playing the ukulele with a local Southern Oregon group. Decades later, when the children and grandchildren that she loved played music, she listened. When they played sports, she was there cheering them on. No matter what their passion, she encouraged them. She delighted in it. And she would always sign off with a heartfelt “Nice going,” or “Congratulations,” and you knew she was proud of you..

Jeanette was preceded in death by her husband, Donald Dean Miller; her mother, Martha Wrenn; her sister, Paula Martin; and her brother, Don Wrenn.

She is survived by her sister, Mary Davis; her five children, Doug (Gail), Marci Bryan, Cheri Biskeborn, Greg (Sarah), and Jim (Lan); 11 grandchildren; and 19 great-grandchildren.

Jeanette spent 98 years being curious, paying attention, keeping score, clipping articles, stacking plates, raising children, encouraging grandchildren, and making sure the people who came after her had opportunities she had not been given.

Her family will miss her deeply. But they will carry her legacy forward—in the things they learn, the music they make, the games they watch, the opinions they form, and the attention they give to the people they love. And—thanks to Jeanette—they will probably stack the plates when they leave the restaurant.