Donna Handy was born December 18,
1930 in Stockton, CA. She was the only
child of Walter and Freda Jacoby. She
married Frank on October 16, 1949. They had three rotten kids.
I’ve been called to do a lot of life
sketches in my life. And, there are
times when you just can’t tell the real story.
Being in a house of God is one of those times. So, please bear with me as I try give you the
G-rated version of one the most awesome people I’ve ever had the pleasure with
which to share this great journey we all call life.
The best kind of people are the
ones that come into your life, and make you see the sun where you once saw
clouds. They make you laugh. They are once in a lifetime people.
I’m supposed to tell you about
Donna. I could tell you about when she
was born, what great art she could spin on a sewing machine, her jobs, how much
she loved history and Heritage Hall. I
could tell you all of those things, but you’ve already read her obituary, and
you’re probably here today because you knew her and all of that anyway.
I never met Frank, but I always knew
how much she loved him. That’s the thing
about Donna—you always knew EXACTLY what she thought. About everything. And, I
guess at the end of the day, a life sketch is really about the fine print and
the telling the story about the people we are blessed to have known. Because, really, we are all blessed to have
known someone like Grandma Donna.
I have to preface this story I'm about to tell you about Donna. Back then, I wasn't the type of girl your momma looked forward to you bringing home.
The first time I met Donna, Bill and
Becky were putting in the foundation for their house across the street.
I’d gone over to her kitchen to help put together lunch. I was pulling hot dogs out of the package,
and she said, “So, do you do Brian’s laundry?”
I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. I mean, it's this little gray haired lady, and we weren't married.
I thought for a second, and said to
myself, “Well, we might as well get this out of the way right now.” And I
replied, “Heck, no! He’s capable.”
Without missing a single beat or
even blinking, she piped off with, “Well, good.
You won’t have to find those wrappers he always left in his pockets when
he used to bring it to me.”
I got really good at laundry.
And, that is the thing everybody
loved the most about Donna. You never
knew what was about to come out of her, but you always knew it was going to be
a straight-up riot and honestly what she thought. I think all of us liked to get her good and
riled up about something, then after she’d give her piece, we’d say, “Tell us
what you REALLY think!” It was
rhetorical of course, but she never failed to, THEN, really let you know
exactly how the cookie crumbled.
Donna liked to know what was going
on. She used to sit on her porch and
watch all the happenings of Dubois while drinking coffee and feeding peanuts to
the squirrels. She loved it when Becky
was an EMT and had the radio, because then she had ALL the information. I thought one year that the best gift ever
would be to buy her a police scanner for Christmas, and Brian said, kidding of
course, “Oh, that would be fabulous!
Snoop Donna Donna over there; we’d have to get her binoculars too!” And,
her nickname was born.
For the last few years, our family
Thanksgiving tradition has been to go to the Sandpiper for dinner. Becky, Bill, and Craig would drive her to
town, and Donna loved it. We always get
the same waitress; she has become part of our tradition--and this last year as she got ready to order, the waitress
said, “Can I guess? You want halibut
‘without any crap on it’ and a hot fudge Sunday later?” She always cut right through the crap, and
she never held back.
Donna was baptized on August 17th,
2014. She held a picture of Frank next
to her heart.
She signed her own
cremation order, so no one could change how she wanted things. She left a note and double underlined that
everyone had to keep it short at her funeral.
And, as the funeral director stated, we are all willing to face each
other in the night, but not following Donna’s orders and having to deal with
her at the witching hour would be more than we could handle.
That was Donna—a straight shooter through and through. The Annie Oakley of opinions. But, mostly, she was a great friend,
companion, mother, grandmother and wife.
Labels are arbitrary. She was a
great human. A true person in a world
constantly trying to make us be something we are not. And that is character,
and character is what really defines a life.
I sat with her family last night,
and as we shared crazy stories, I realized how much we are influenced by those
once in a lifetime people. I’m a firm
believer that our greatest comforts lie in our memories. So, give this family your stories. Share them today. Those are the things that really define a life.
Song of Songs, Chapter 8 verses 6-7
tell us: “Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm; For stern as
death is love, relentless as the netherworld is devotion; its flames are a
burning fire. Deep waters cannot quench
love, nor floods sweep it away. Were one
to offer all he owns to purchase love, he would be roundly mocked.” Love is really the only thing that lasts,
and sharing our love today is a better reflection of a life than any of my
words could provide.
She had charm, and she was the
sweetest little bit of spunk.
Many of this world’s greatest souls live their lives without
glamour and social prestige, and without headlines. Yet, their individual
histories are examples of life lived and filled with meaning. Donna’s lasting
legacy is her family. To her family, she is one of the noblest of spirits. She is at
peace knowing we all sat in her yard and laughed.
To end with Shakespeare, “Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet [lady], And flights of
angels sing thee to thy rest.”
