Janet Ann Vander Pluym

Loving wife of Gene, cherished mother of Barb (Jim) Flowers, Steve (Linda), Liz (Dick) Zempel, Bill (Jill), and Pete. Proud grandmother of Karen, Tom, Claire, Graham, Jack, Joe, Greg, Haley, Nick, Gretchen, Christian, and Andy. Dear great grandmother of Kendall, Hannah, and Jenna. Dearest sister of Bette Houska. Loving aunt, great aunt, and friend to many.

The family offers its profound gratitude to Vitas Hospice, Senior Helpers, and the nursing staff at Tesson Heights Assisted Living for their compassion and loving care.

Mom left us without divulging the recipe for Tuna Croquettes, thus sparing future generations the indignity of this culinary peril.

Funeral from Hoffmeister Colonial Mortuary, 6464 Chippewa at Watson on Monday, February 16, 2015 at 9:00 am to St. Stephen Protomartyr Catholic Church for Mass of Christian Burial at 9:30 am. The interment will follow in Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. Visitation: Sunday, February 15 from 2:00 pm to 7:00 pm at Hoffmeister. Please share memories of Janet with the family at www.hoffmeistercolonial.com.

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Eulogy for Janet by Barb Flowers

When my dear mother-in-law, Martha Flowers, died, I gave a brief eulogy. After the Mass, mom asked me to say something for her when the time came. It was actually more of a command, as was usually the way we understood mom’s requests.

I remember wondering at the time, what would I say about mom? I didn’t linger on the thought for long, but I remember thinking that it would be difficult because she was just mom, she did mom things, nothing really stood out, she was just there.

When she died, those thoughts came back, but this time with a bit of regret in how much we just took for granted. When we called her, she would be available, that is if it were after 10 a.m. and if it wasn’t during the last 10 minutes of NCIS. If it were, we could be assured of a quick return call. If I needed someone to pick up a sick child, if I needed to know at what temperature to bake an apple pie, if I needed to know what happened on a favorite soap – she was there. And, by the way, she hated soaps. She would just watch them to report back to Liz and me.

She did other mom things. And as I think back, I wonder why I didn’t notice how hard those things were. When my dad attended college, he took nine hours a semester, all in evening classes. That meant he was gone until 10:30 at night three nights a week. On those nights, we kids would have dinner with mom at around 6:00, but then mom would prepare another dinner for dad when he arrived home at 10:30. On the nights he wasn’t in class, he did homework. Now, many of you will remember our house on Giles. It was, maybe, 900 sq. ft. And, there were three of us kids, no, make that four. Bill came along during the first couple of years dad was in school. Wait, make that five. Pete followed just two years later. So, mom would close off the living room so dad could study, and would contain her 3, or 4, or 5 kids, quietly, in what remained of the house.

Those were the only times that our house was quiet. Most of the time, things were pretty loud. There were the squabbles among Steve, Liz and me, and I can still picture mom pulling Bill off Pete, and vice versa. And mom wasn’t above raising her own voice to get her point across. She meant it: we’d better do what she said, and she’d better not hear us complain – no sass. Dad says he never had to come home to be the disciplinarian. That was true. Dad was fun, mom was business.

That was most of the time. But, mom knew how to have fun too. She was a party person. I remember watching her getting dressed for fraternity parties. She was stunning, beautifully dressed with what had to be the brightest smile in the room. And, she could throw a party too. Our friends were always welcome. My first party was a 6th birthday soirée featuring the movie, Dumbo. How cool. We all had our sleepovers, most intentional, some not. Some may have gotten a little out of hand, but once it was over, mom never said a word about it.

And there were also adult parties. A few of you in this church today could probably tell us a tale or two about those happenings; we children were sent to grandma’s. However, I do recall overhearing mom talking on the phone – something about broken wine glasses, lots of dancing, and time spent digging glass out of the bottom of Jackie Konrad’s feet.

Parties were her element. Well into adulthood, we would all gather at mom’s for each of our birthdays. Mom would fix our favorite dinner, and we would sing our infamous rendition of Happy Birthday. Soon those parties extended to grandchildren too, until there were just so many of us that we would have been having birthday parties every other week.

Up until about ten years ago, every holiday was at mom’s. She seldom asked that we bring anything; the girls would set the table, the boys would carry chairs, and Bill would mash the potatoes. She would be the gracious hostess, greeting each grandchild as if he or she were all that existed in the world, cracking jokes as she worked and we watched, and putting the final touches on the meal. When it became Liz’s and my turn to make these meals, at least for me, it was a little awkward. I did, and still do, feel rushed, nervous, flustered. Is there enough room, does everyone have a drink, will all of the food be done at the same time? After dinner – the same angst. Is everyone getting coffee, is there enough desert, where will I go with all of these dirty dishes? So, I asked mom, “How were you so relaxed?” “How did you get everything done and on the table at the same time?” Her response – Oh, I didn’t. I was telling my daughter Karen about that and saying that mom just told me that to make me feel better. But, Karen reminded me that for about seven years in a row, the sweet potatoes were found in the microwave after dinner. And mom’s response was, “Oh, we missed the sweet potatoes again.” She didn’t care. It didn’t bother her. She would have been bothered if she had missed the opportunity to chat with Haley, or to have coffee with Liz, Linda and Jill. She didn’t jump up to wash dishes because she might have missed watching Gretchen dance, or have missed a long story from Nick. The dishes would be there the next day, but her family wouldn’t. She had her priorities right.

And, that, is the theme of her life. She knew what was important. She loved my father, she cherished her children and adored her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She loved God and made sure that each of us knew His power. She had unshakable faith in each one of us. Forget about grades – lucky for us. She knew how she had raised us and that we would have the kind of success that means something – love for our spouses, our children, each other, and our God. She did that! That is her legacy.