Minnie Lea Russell

A service to celebrate the life of Minnie Lea Russell will be 9:30 am Thursday, May 12, 2011 in the chapel of Blanchard St. Denis with Rev. Paul David Russell and Rev. J. Douglas Russell officiating. Interment will follow at Mt. Lebanon Cemetery near Gibsland, LA. The family will receive friends from 9 am until service time of Thursday, May 12, 2011 at the funeral home. Mrs. Russell, 92 years of age, passed away Monday, May 9, 2011 in Natchitoches, LA. She was born March 6, 1919 to the late Fred Howell and the late Margaret Addie (Maddox) Howell in Oakdale, LA. She was preceded in death by her husband, Ret. U.S. Army Major Douglas Condy Russell; and her daughter, Frances Juanita Youngblood. She is survived by her daughter, Margaret Ann Russell; her sons, J. Douglas Russell and Paul David Russell and his wife Delia; two brothers, Ernest O. Howell and Paul Howell; a son in law, W.G. Youngblood; she was blessed with 8 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren as well as numerous nieces and nephews. MY GRANDMOTHER – MINNIE LEA HOWELL RUSSELL By Juliet Von Russell Geil I am the only sibling in my family who remembers Grandma before she had her stroke. I remember the house in Gibsland, the biggest Christmas tree in the world. A Heinz Ketchup bottle and Pickle scooter that were given to my cousin Eric and I one year. One day Grandma and I were both in the kitchen. She had a box, with her medications in it. She took it out of the cupboard and rummaged through for the ones she needed. I asked her “Grandma, who’s medicines are those?” “They’re mine,” she replied. My five year old eyes filled with tears, “Oh, Grandma, don’t you believe in Jesus?” She laughed and laughed. I couldn’t figure out why. I think later on Mom explained to me that we can have both medicine and Jesus, and that’s okay. She came to visit us in Utah, before her stroke. I went grocery shopping with her. She was buying a bill of groceries for my family. We were going down the cereal isle, and she grabbed a box of Cherrios. “I’m gonna buy these Cherrios, you’ll like them. Eric loves them.” Well, my cousin Eric was pretty cool, so I thought, “if Eric likes Cherrios, so will I.” When we got them home, I couldn’t wait to try a bold of these scrumptious Cherrios that must have Cherries, what could be better. My heart sank, when I watched that first bowl being poured. There were no Cherries, no fanfare, just circles that tasted like wheat crackers. “Grandma, where’s the Cherries!!” “What cherries?” “The ones Eric likes…oh, you thought they were Cherries??” And she laughed. I was glad she thought I was cute, but, really, what does a 5 year old do when hope is dashed like that? I wanted Cherry- O’s. She fixed me a bowl of ice cream on one of her visits and I didn’t eat it in a timely fashion, and it melted. “Look, now it’s like soup”, she said, stirring it. For some reason that seemed bad to her. Ice Cream Soup! To me that sounded like heaven - where’s the straw? One night, the phone rang, someone gave my Dad the news that Grandma had fallen and was in the hospital. It seemed strange and dark that night. Dad was on a plane before I knew it. I was six, that’s when I learned the words “Stroke” and “Paralyzed”. I learned at a young age that the left side of the brain controls the right side of the body, and that the left brain also controls speech. Her left hemisphere had suffered a stroke and her right side was paralyzed. I am 39 now, and for these many years, though she learned to be somewhat mobile, she never used the right side of her body or spoke anything without considerable effort. For some reason, the words “two more” were like jump start words. They are just the words that came out. “Two More!!!” “Two More?” Those two words could say anything. Ask a question, explain what she was looking forwhile she pointed, express exasperation, answer any question that was given to her, and sometimes could start a sentence that she’d been working on… “Two more… pass… the… dressing”. When talking to Grandma, we would have to hold both sides of the conversation. Asking the question, and then guessing what she meant when she responded with her two words. She lived with us in three different houses. The first house, she had a bedroom on the main level. She moved in when I was 7 years old, David was 4 years old and Kennis was 6 weeks old. Mom worked with her to help teach her to brush her teeth and hair, dress herself, take a shower, etc. There were certain jobs Mom set aside for her to do; empty the dish washer and fold the towels. I think it gave her a sense of being needed or contributing to the family. On Grandma’s 67th birthday, we were having dinner in the first house, with the blue carpet, in Utah. It was a jovial atmosphere. She asked “two more – birthdays?” “Do you mean, how old are you?”“Uh – huh” “You’re 67 Mom” Dad informed her. “I’ll say!!!” One of the few phrases that she could find with ease, in her southern Louisiana drawl. She was over by the kitchen and pulling out a container of spices from the cupboard over the bar in the kitchen, when she dropped it accidentally and it broke one of my Mother’s crystal platters, it had been a wedding gift. “Oh!!!! Two More” Her eyes welled up with tears, and her shoulders slumped down in such grave disappointment. “It’s ok Mom” my Mom told her…”It’s just a plate, it’s ok”. Grandma tried to let it go, I could see she wouldn’t be able to. She tried to fake it, returned to the table, I pushed her chair in. We tried to create the light mood that had been in the room just minutes before. I remember thinking…it must be hard to live in such silence and use her left hand, she was right handed. When we moved into the new house in Utah, Grandma had her own apartment downstairs, with a kitchen and a bathroom suited for a handicapped person. She got to pick the carpet herself, and of course she picked “blue”, her favorite color. We had rails installed on both sides of the staircase, so she could hold on to a rail coming up and down the stairs; wearing her shoe-to-calf leg brace and using her four pronged cane. She was quite mobile for someone who couldn’t independently move her right arm or leg. She was up the stairs every Sunday for sure, to go to church and then to have lunch. Most of her meals she ate in her apartment, we were there a lot, and as I look back, I think I could have been there more. My answer to the question “Grandma, don’t you believe in Jesus?” was answered every time we were together praying or went to church. I was never at a church service with her, that she didn’t have her left arm up in the air, saying…no, crying out the name “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”. Yes, she knew Jesus. My Mother always did Grandmas hair. And she wore it in an up-do. One weekend for some reason my Mom was going to be out of town, and she taught me how to do Grandma’s hair for church. Where to put the ponytail, leave the front out, tease and pin the ponytail into rolls, the tease the front and smooth it out – pin it into the rest of the hair in the back. Well, all I have to say is…I got the ponytail part done. The rolls were uneven and misshaped, and the front of her hair looked a little bit like my daughters hair does after she’s had P.E. I was 12yrs old. I had no idea what I was doing. When I was finished, I apologized that I had done such a horrible job. She grabbed a comb, and gently smoothed out the hair just around her forehead. “Two more, ok”. And, she thanked me, and off to church she went. With the worst hair-do she’d had to date, I’m sure….Smiling the whole way. Once or twice a year, we’d end up selling candy bars for a fund raiser at school. Bounding down the stairs we’d go to her apartment. She was such a loyal customer, and fair – she’d buy one from both David and I. She’d point to the closet where she kept her purse and get out the dollar bills and buy them. She was almost always the first customer. One candy bar down, 29 to go. Grandma was the keeper of pictures. Duplicates, Triplicates. She had them. She was always surrounded by the pictures of her children as babies, and graduating, wedding pictures, and of course pictures of her dear husband. There is a picture of her sitting on the hood of a car, with my grandfather. She had a brilliant hat on, and it always seemed like they should have been in a movie in that picture. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman. One year, she made photo albums for each of us kids, with pictures from Dad’s childhood, from a small boy, into elementary school and through to college. What a thoughtful tribute for us. And the time it took to categorize and put all of those pictures in the little books. I think I wish I could go back and receive that gift again and give it the “thank you” that it truly deserved. Honestly, there are so many moments I’d love to relive and have the clarity of an adult. I think she understood that….Children don’t really know how to say “thank you”, and I guess that’s okay. We all finally grow up one day. Grandma moved to St. Louis with us, and off and on lived with my Aunt Juanita and Aunt Margaret. I’m sure my brothers and cousins all have stories to tell about her. It’s really unique, she lived in each of our homes and shared a portion of our life with us. That’s got to be a common bond that can never be broken. She lived on her own for a number of years and kept her own apartment, something to be extremely proud of. I think though, she was ready to go to heaven for a very long time. Everything in her apartment had a name on the back of it…who it should go to, when her time came. I’m sure she never intended to live as long as she did. My daughter visited her twice, once when she was a year and a half, and once when she was four years old. Grandma gave her Mardi Gras beads, which we will keep for always. There is something special about my Grandmother seeing my child. Chloe walked into that nursing home, with all the vigor of going to Disneyland. I remember thinking how I wish I could see this all through Chloe’s eyes and not have the knowledge of the pain and the reality of the situation. And, I wished there were some way to bottle that innocence up, and have Chloe live her entire life oblivious to everything. I do not know why people die young or live long. I do know that there is an amazing God with a masterful plan and that I am humbled to see only small parts of that plan. I’m trusting Him through all of the parts of the plan I do not see. I’ve always thought God didn’t release her from this earth because she was still praying for her kids, like she always did. I always imagined that the time she spent sleeping these last few years she spent praying in her dreams, still interceding for my Dad, Margaret and Doug. I think any sad emotions I have in her passing are for my Dad loosing his Mother, and some selfish regrets that I didn’t spend as much time with her when I had the opportunity when she was living with us. I have nothing but joy for her. Death has no sting. The grave has no victory. To be with her Jesus, whom she cried out to on a daily basis. To look him in the eyes and hear the precious words we live to hear “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of the Lord!” Walking, talking…free. And with her husband and daughter and parents and other family members and friends. It’s the time of her life, her new life. I can have no sadness for her. Grandma – thank you for all you did here on earth. Enjoy your reward! I love you!