This old house- Some memories of JoAnn Turner and the home she loved

(The following is my column from Friday night's Turner Report Newsletter.)

The house where I grew up in Newtonia wasn't new when Mom and Dad bought it from Mag Landreth in 1952 but as the years passed they made improvements, adding indoor plumbing, and replacing the back section of the house with a new kitchen.

We weren't rich by any means, but I never thought we were poor. We had food on the table, we could go out in the yard and play ball until it was almost too dark to see and we could go to the grocery stores in Neosho on Saturday, buy a few staples and stop by the Corral for a milk shake and a hamburger.

It was a great way to grow up.

As I moved into adulthood, I began to notice and appreciate things that I should have noticed and appreciate all along- how well Mom and Dad took care of the yard, the neatly trimmed grass, the array of flowers welcoming visitors and a garden with corn, potatoes and above all, Dad's tomatoes.

Sixteen years ago today, a large section of the house was ripped open by a tornado that swept through Newtonia. I was in my apartment when Mom called, clearly upset. She and dad had been in the house where they had lived for 56 years at that point when the tornado struck. Mom and Dad were all right, though Mom had been hit in the head by a board. Mom was clinging to her dog Zoey and was worried to death about her cat Woody who was nowhere to be found. The conversation ended on a happy note when we heard a loud "meow."

Though the house was open to the elements, it was warm enough that Mom and Dad slept in their bedroom that night and never moved even as they repaired the house to the point where it looked as good as ever.

As they grew older in the house where they lived all but one year of their 70-year marriage, Mom and Dad kept their home and yard a showplace for the community even as many of the owners of the surrounding houses never bothered to repair the tornado damage.

Over the past several years, the one constant in Mom's life was the house. Dad made sure she was able to stay there even as she began losing her memories due to the effects of Alzheimer's. When Dad died at the age of 94 two and a half years ago, my younger sister Kelly moved in with Mom, so she could stay in her home, sacrificing her full-time job in Springfield. As her employer allowed her to continue to work on a part-time basis, my older sister Vicki and I filled in from time to time, staying with Mom in the house where we grew up.

Last Saturday, Mom had a stroke as she was returning from grocery shopping with Kelly, the same type of trip we took on those Saturdays from so long ago.

For the past week, she has slept peacefully, first at Freeman West, and then for one day at the Solace House of the Ozarks where she died this morning.

This afternoon, I returned to the house she loved so much. My sisters were there, and it wasn't long before Kelly's daughters, Kiley and Kara, their three children and Kiley's husband Logan arrived.

Still, the house seemed empty.