By : Julia Ward Howe ~ 1870

Arise, all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: "We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.

"Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says, "Disarm, disarm! The sword is not the balance of justice." Blood does not wipe out dishonor nor violence indicate possession.

As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each learning after his own time, the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

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This is the proclamation Julia Ward Howe wrote in 1870, which explains, in her own impassioned words, the goals of the original holiday. I know our mother would have loved this, yet I do not think she knew of it.  ~~ dori

Mom loved the poetry of Mary Oliver, especially the "Red Bird" book. Here are two of her favorites, the bolded section in the second poem, I read at her memorial service.

RED BIRD

Red bird came all winter

Firing up the landscape as nothing else could.

Of course I love the sparrows,

those dun-colored darlings, so hungry and so many.

I am a God-fearing feeder of birds,

I know He has many children, not all of them bold in spirit.

Still, for whatever reason--perhaps becasue the winter is so long

And the sky so black-blue, or perhaps because the heart narrows

as often as it opens--I am grateful that red bird comes all winter

firing up the landscape, as nothing else can do.

Red Bird Explains Himself

"Yes I was the brillance floating over the snow

and I was the song in the summer leaves, but this was only the first trick

I had hold of among my other mythologies,

for I also knew obedience; bringing sticks to the nest,

food to the young, kisses to my bride.

But don't stop there, stay with me: LISTEN.

If  I was the song that entered your heart

then I was the music of your heart, that you wanted and needed,

and thus wilderness bloomed there, with all its followers:

gardeners, lovers, people who weep for the death of rivers.

And this was my true task, to be the music of the body.

Do you understand? for truly the body needs a song, a spirit, a soul.

And no less, to make this work, the soul has need of a body,

And I am both of the earth and I am of the inexplicable

beauty of heaven,

where I fly so easily, so welcome, yes,

and this is why I have been sent, to teach this to your heart." 

This one of mom's favorite poems, it got her through some very hard times and has been solace to my soul this last year.  May her soul rest in peace.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest Sea

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of Me

                                    All I Know  

The unwinding nature that you support
                  brings everyone into jubilant singing.  
The moon stretches out its hollow song
                   to a quiet whistle, just to please you.
The waking words of the sun, shine bright through the windows,
 just to love you.  Just to know you are here with us all.
These things I know about you, are very small simple thoughts,
    but the words of millions put an ever glowing touch to our souls.
In time of need, in time of silence, in time of advice.
  You speak the most touching words that anyone could say. Thus it happens that we end up coming to you
       and sometimes wonder of these special moments. 
You make the roses grow straight out of the ground,
    you make everyone smile their warm hugs toward you.
Even when the night comes, and all we hear is the wind
gently crash into the house; we all remember you.
   You made it into the gate.  Will you travel alone? Never. 
You will have all of us stand by you
                          until the moon gives up it shine. 
            We will take care of you
                         for as long as the stars roam the skies.
                 We love you as long as we live our lives.  Forever.
                      So, as long as we are here:
                                 we will watch the trees dance with you. 
                           Everyday, we will remember you in our lives
                                         and live the way you taught us
                        from the beginning of the day you affected us
                                     with your comforting smile and laugh
                                               You live within us all,
                                   through titles of “Mom” or “Grandma”
                                                         or simply
                                          “Remembered and Loved Forever”

A Special poem sent to the Egan girls by Barbara Sherman - Thank You

Though we need to weep your loss, Dolores,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts, where no storm, or night, or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn, Brightening over our lives,
Awakening beneath the dark clouds, A further adventure of color & light.
The sound of your voice, found for us, a new music, that illuminated everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze, quickening in the joy of its being;
You placed happiness, like flowers on the Altar of our hearts.
Your mind always sparkled with wonder at the complexity and beauty of things.

Though your days here were brief ~ in the long history of this family,
Your spirit was awake, deep, present in full, and endures, even now.

Though we can no longer see you with our outward eyes,
Our soul still can gaze upon your face,
And You Smile back at us, from within everything,
To which you brought your best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory, where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence, beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows, music rings eternal tones, and birds in trees resplendent call.

When orchids grace the earth, a dark winter turns to spring;
May our dark season of grief finally flower with hope, In every heart that loves you.

~ adapted from On the Death of the Beloved
by John ODonohue in To Bless the Space Between Us

Mom wished she could attend the memorial services however traveling alone is tenuous.

Dodie and I were usually  the two singles ladies at many of the family functions. I was always pleased to share "the good ol' days"  and the many memories we had as well as those to follow!   I   was so grateful to have spent quailty time with her in Colorado Springs  and all the Sherman family. 

She will live on in our hearts and  minds. 

                                                                                             Sincerely,

                                                                                                  Marvel Sherman

"SOME ENCHANTED EVENING"

By: Ginny Ranella

Dolores' final months were disabling and depressing as she endured the end stages of Mycelia Gravis. Loved ones and caregivers engaged in her daily life felt heart broken as we witnessed her physical disintegration lead towards a paralyzed captivity.  The end was near, and we felt inept and lost when even our simple attempts to make her comfortable were inadequate. Shortly before she passed, her speech became whispered one word sentences. Yet, we endured, as did she. For we were bound by natures laws, and nothing could be done to change her slow march toward death.

In early April I was visiting her and sitting on the floor about an arms reach away from where she sat in her wheel chair. Her caregiver Linda, myself and she were watching a PBS fundraising show during which they were airing a previous engagement of the Trumpet player, Chris Botti, while he and his band played with the Boston Symphony.  PBS was offering tickets to a special event on June 3rd where Chris Botti and his Band would be playing with the San Francisco Symphony at Davis Hall. We were talking about what a phenomenal "horn" player Chris was and I said that I was going to donate to PBS to get a couple of tickets to the show as a Birthday gift to myself.  Mom hadn't moved her arms or fingers in several months, so what happened next knocked my socks off. Mom reached out her arm and tapped me on my shoulder.  I turned and looked at her in amazement and she whispered slowly and clearly "TAKE ME."  I was overwhelmed with emotion knowing the physical strength it must have taken for her to reach out to me, and even more that she clearly asked me to take her to this Concert. I replied to her, "I'd love to take you Mom and I'm going to get enough tickets so that all of your Caregivers will be able to share this special night with you too. That night I went home and donated enough money to PBS to receive four tickets to the Chris Botti Concert on June 3rd, playing with the S.F. Symphony.

Throughout the next two months she never forgot that she had this Concert to attend.  No one needed to remind her, but we, Dori, Linda, mom's caretaker, and I, all spoke of it frequently.  After making my pledge to PBS, I spent a considerable amount of time each week calling and pestering the folks at PBS to assure we would receive excellent seats together which also accommodated a handicapped person. Initially, I made little progress, but in mid May I had sufficiently worked my way up the chain of command and was finally promised that which I desired.  From there on, our excitement level excelled to the point where we all were vibrating over the very thought of our big night out with Dolores.  We prayed she would be able to make it to the concert. Finally the day arrived and we were ecstatic that Dolores was displaying a level of vitality and exuberance which none of us had seen in many, many months.  We arrived at Davis Hall early and the three of us stood around Mom's wheelchair in the lobby enjoying a drink and listening to a live Swing Band play as a warm up to the Concert. Mom's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and she radiated a vibrancy that literally spread to others around us.  She looked so beautiful in her light pink sweater, with Maureen's pink pearls draped around her neckline. She was the oldest Concert goer, but her zeal was clearly the youngest.

We were escorted down the isle and thrilled to discover that we had front row seats. As we sat waiting for the Concert to begin, Dori, myself and Linda, Mom's live-in caregiver, looked upon Dolores shining eyes and eager anticipation and we became overjoyed by the thought that we were sharing Mom's last night out in her beloved San Francisco and creating a lasting and loving memory with her before she left us for ever. As the lights dimmed and the Symphony began playing I felt Mom's inner joy reach out to embrace us three. Chris Botti and his band began to play and I noticed that Mom was trying to keep beat by tapping her one functioning index finger against her leg. When the band took it's break, the three of us were having a difficult time holding back our tears of joy at the sight of Mom's delight and stimulation.  It had been so long since we had seen this side of her.

The lights dimmed, the band began again, and it became evident that several band members were playing their music just for Dolores. They turned toward her, they stood in front of her and they smiled down upon her as they played so beautifully.  In turn, we watched in amazement as her one finger became a whole hand tapping in sync and after each song she strived to raise her hands to clap. At first it was a one handed clap, but by the end of the concert she managed to raise both hands to her face level and clap long and hard with everyone else. We couldn't hold back our tears any longer.  The music that night was magic, and it transcended her diseased stricken body, and she became young and whole one last time.  At the end of the concert each member of the band played a solo. As the guitar player finished his, he came down and shook Mom's hand.  The drummer did a phenomenal solo during which he broke the tip off his drum stick. When he finished, he jumped off the stage and handed his drum sticks to Mom and kissed her cheek.  She was glowing with joy and thrilled with the tribute the band had paid her. Our last night out with Mom was an enchanted evening which none of us will ever forget.

Mom passed away 23 days later.  Life can be so beautiful, even in the midst of sadness.

%uFFFD

In 2001 Ken and Ginny Ranellla brought Dolores to their vacation home high in the Sierra Mountains.  This home has a beautiful creek which runs through it's back yard which is called Clear Creek.  The home became our Mom's yearly vacation spot from that year until the end of the Summer in 2009 when she no longer could make the trip.  Her favorite spot was "The Bridge," which Ken's Father had built with his own two hands.  She would arise early every morning and walk down to the bridge by herself.  I will always remember her standing and sitting on this bridge which seemed to lead her mind into happy memories from younger years in her life.  Each Spring when we opened the house from it's long winter of solitude, she would join us in our opening rituals and she chose the cleaning, sweeping and repairs to the bridge as her yearly job.  She loved this bridge and she loved Clear Creek.  We will always remember and cherish the beautiful memories we created together vacationing in Clear Creek.  This year's opening will be especially difficult as we know her memory is all that we will have to smile upon as we gaze upon "her bridge."  

Ginny Egan Ranella

 A PEACEFUL CROSSING

DOLORES S. EGAN 

1924 TO 2010

BY: GINNY EGAN RANELLA

Loved ones came and went,

Throughout the day and into night.

Your heart was filled with all their love,

You knew the time was right.

Late that night in quiet repose,

Your body began to stray.

Only your mind remained to struggle,

Should I go, or should I stay?

A loved one stood beside you,

Speaking of life after passin on.

From above your family beckoned,

 And you peacefully crossed before the dawn.