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An old friend in Hospice
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Location: Blogs Now We're Talking |
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| Posted by: Joe Byrnes |
10/21/2006 1:50 AM |
Editor's Note: This column was published in today's paper. Frances died at 7:30 a.m. today, peacefully, in her sleep.
I went to see an old friend Tuesday, a feisty redhead, a Scottish lady, a pioneer in the news business, an advocate for Marion County's farm kids.
As a Star-Banner writer for decades and author every week of "That Reminds Me," Frances DeVore is a friend to many of you, as well.
She turned 92 last week.
Tuesday, Frances lay in a hospital bed at her house in Reddick. She had come home the night before, under Hospice care, after suffering kidney failure.
Schnitzel, her small black dog, stayed quietly under the bed.
Her stepdaughter, Penny Hull, leaned against the wall and her face was full of sadness and acceptance. The doctor had said Frances would die soon.
Tuesday afternoon, she was unresponsive. I couldn't really talk with her, though I did tell her, "We love you."
Since I met her in 1994, I've known Frances as a sparkling person, a charmer and a wit. The old spark was still there in the stories her son, George Sheppard, told me at the kitchen table.
A few days earlier, he said, she talked about something she hadn't done 60 years ago, when "The Yearling" was filmed in Marion County.
"I never swam with Gregory Peck," could have been the start of her last column, Sheppard said.
Tuesday morning, she sang just the phrase "I will survive."
"She's no Gloria Gaynor, but . . . ," Sheppard said, with a chuckle and tears in his eyes.
Now there's the Frances I remember.
She came to Ocala, carrying one son and pregnant with another, on Dec. 7, 1941. Her first husband was teaching parachute jumping at Taylor Field. Fifty years later, writing for the Star-Banner, she would retell the story of World War II through the experiences of local soldiers.
Frances began her newspaper career in 1932 in Greenville, Mich., covering city council meetings and car wrecks.
She came back to the business in 1947, starting as a proof reader for the Star-Banner. It was supposed to be a temporary job.
In 1951, she helped form The Florida Women's Press Club - now the Florida Press Club. And every year, the organization recognizes outstanding public service with the Frances DeVore Award.
Over the years, Frances was a leader with the Marion Players, which became the Ocala Civic Theatre, and has been a persistent advocate for the FFA, 4-H and Southeastern Youth Fair.
She raised children of her own. And in the early 1960s, she married County Commissioner Elbert DeVore Sr. He was her third husband and the love of her life.
Frances retired - twice - but still writes a column.
Last week, on her 92nd birthday - "another milestone in a long, and sometimes not merry, life" - she looked back on 59 years with the newspaper.
Editors Bert Dosh and Louis Chazal "felt there was a place in journalism for women" and made her career possible, Frances wrote. "We'll soon be forgotten."
But I don't think we'll forget Frances anytime soon.
Sheppard said her wishes are clear. Her body will be cremated and the ashes spilled, somehow, into the Gulf Stream, with a splash of 30-year-old scotch, so that she flows to the shores of Scotland.
It was her father's homeland, and she always wanted to go there.
Sheppard said he tells Frances that another son, a stepdaughter and her beloved husband are waiting for her in heaven.
Elbert DeVore would leave a love note - sometimes just a thank you note - on his pillow for her every morning.
"I let her know," Sheppard said, "that Elbert's waiting for her, and he's got those little love notes."
Here's one from me.
Joe Byrnes may be reached at joe@ocala.com or (352) 867-4112.
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Re: An old friend in Hospice |
By Darrell G. Riley on
10/18/2006 10:44 AM |
Frances became my substitute grandmother when I moved to Ocala and joined the Star-Banner family in 1988. There is a huge hole in my heart today and a very large pair of shoes for this community to fill.
Frances showed us all how important local journalism is to a community and gave us a great gift with her reporting and commentary.
I am sure the reporters bar in heaven has a new customer today, as Frances sits down with the likes of Edward R. Murrow and her beloved Ernie Pyle to trade war stories.
We will carry on without Frances, but the world is a little less bright today. |
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Re: An old friend in Hospice |
By Rhonda Lane (nee Sheppard) on
10/18/2006 12:31 PM |
This is my grandmother down to a tee. Feisty,sharp witted,and often leaving us crying with laughter. She was always such a spirited soul,I somehow believed she'd live forever.
I moved to England in 1993,and hadn't seen her in some years-but when I first went back to visit,she hadn't changed a bit! Her great granddaughter Charlotte immediately fell in love with her 'Grandma the Great',and they became thick as thieves.
I'm so glad she was my grandmother,that my children got to know their great grandmother-and so proud of all my grandmother achieved.
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Re: An old friend in Hospice |
By George "Corky" Sheppard on
10/18/2006 5:38 PM |
| It's hard to fathom a life without a person that gave me life, nurtured me, guided me and instilled her respect for others in me. Frances was not only my mother but also took the place of a father that was missing from my life. She was impressed not only with gettng a Mother's Day gift from me but also the Father's Day card she got each year. There is a void where her laughter and advice once were. I know that she is in a better place and I can still go to her when I need ner guidance. I love you mam. |
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Re: An old friend in Hospice |
By Billy DeVore on
10/19/2006 12:26 PM |
Frances brought life to Daddy when he needed it so desperately. She gave him the spark to complete the race of life that was before him in 1964. Over the years we learned of her character that so many had know before as well as the services she provided while she added her spice to the Florida and Marion County she loved. Rhonda was right in that we thought she would live forever.
My favorite response when asked "Where did the red hair come from" with our four red haired children was always "My Step-Mother is red headed." It would always catch the ones with the question by puzzled surprise, and Frances loved it everytime she heard me tell her the story.
Thank you Joe for your visit and article. |
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Re: An old friend in Hospice |
By Barry Tice on
10/19/2006 9:13 PM |
Frances was one of the few people I've known who could keep up with me at Disney. For several years she and I had season tickets, and we always got our money's worth out of them.
So many memories. For her it hearkened back to Elbert's last days, when she had taken him there with his oxygen tank and wheel chair. But any whistful traces quickly disappeared as we went back through the Haunted Mansion, rode Splash Mountain (again), or relaxed in the air conditioning watching the Tiki Birds, one of her favorites.
She cheered me as I got picked for the Indiana Jones show, wondered at the acrobats in Epcot's China, and loved the trolls in Norway. Oh, and the Norwegian baked goods were always a favorite.
She was the same delight to travel elsewhere with. In 1994 we took a vacation to Washington DC, where she wandered the Mall carrying a concealed weapon and later accused me of trying to dump her into the lion pit at the national zoo. (The lions, it seems, were at the bottom of a fairly steep hill that we came down rather quickly -- her in the rented wheelchair, and me riding the back of it. The weapon was a sword cane. She had forgotten to bring a walking stick, and I had conveniently picked one up on the trip north.) We stopped at South of the Border on the way, and took a wide detour through the North Carolina and West Virginia mountains, where we marvelled at the Blue Ridge beauty. We also visited the Arlington grave of one of her sons, a pilot who had been shot down during the Vietnam War, and found his name on The Wall. She had never been there before, and I was glad I could be part of making sure she had that chance.
The drive back from DC was in an all-night single shift. The roof was down in the convertible, the moon was full, and William Ackerman's "Conferring With The Moon" was playing -- a spot in time I'll carry forever. I listened to that album again yesterday, after Corky called, but it just wasn't the same.
Having gone north and stayed with my aunt and uncle (who were at first a bit ruffled to learn I would be arriving with a female companion), we decided to go the other direction in '95. So, with passports in hand we boarded Costa Rican Airlines. She was a bit miffed that she didn't get the requested front row seat (which would have made it easier for her to get in and out) until she found out that the person who did get it was the former president of the country.
We spent a lovely week visiting her son Jimmy, who had retired there in the little town of Miramar. We toured the country with our local tour guide and his Costa Rican friends, absolutely the best way to see the country. It was a hard place to leave.
I moved away from Ocala in 1998, and the last time I saw Frances was at her 90th birthday party. She hadn't known I would be there until I popped in and sat on her lap (bottle of Scotch in hand) while she was holding audience with her adoring fans. We ended up talking until much later in the night than either of us were used to staying up to see. I wish I had extended my trip by a day and returned to Disney with her one last time.
She was an amazing lady, no doubt. When I met her, she had been retired for nearly a dozen years, so she was only working 30 hours a week, while I was only a few years into my career. We should all be so lucky as to be as full of zest as we age. Whatever place lies beyond this life got a little bit nicer yesterday, and got several lifetimes' worth of new stories to hear.
Bless you, Darlin'. You're missed. |
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