Today is June 15, 2014 -- mom would have been 91 today. Am thinking about her... the way she loved precious little things like pretty leaves, her doll house, the two little fleas dressed up as bride and groom that she got in Mexico years ago, her little wind up toys; her relentless dedication to Annie and me; her love of music and how she used to entertain us on the piano; and her humor which lasted through to the end. 

I love you mom -- you are missed everyday.

 

Mrs. Krumboltz was a gem.  I will always remember her french toast, chocolate poof dessert and many other tasty treats.  I was always fascinated as a child when the K's were entertaining and I had to leave Jenny's side and return to our home next door.  Mrs. K. had on that lovely wig!  She was the only person I knew as a child with such an accessory.  I will cherish childhood memories forever.
Joan Barclay Mason

I had the chance to visit Helen several weeks before she died.  I brought little speakers and my iPhone and set them up right near her wheelchair. We played an entire Glenn Miller anthology of about 25 songs.    Within about a minute her face and body were transformed. Her features quickly softened and her gaze fastened in the direction of the music. Then, as I watched her carefully I could see that her entire body was just very slightly moving, but moving perfectly in sync with the music.  It was a full body movement, and much more than just the subtle tapping of her feet. She had a small, yet clear smile on her face.  And then, we realized that she was mouthing the words to some of the songs that she knew well.   And she was in perfect time with songs like "Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree."   A very beautiful kind of trance, and I took the picture.

 

(written by our dear friend Trip)

Hex arrived at Pomona College in the fall of 1943 for her Junior year. I 
bonded with her in l944-45 as we both finished our Senior year. Her 
friend, Stubby came west and we became a trio. I took these 
mid-westerners to whatever we could reach with no car or money. The big 
trip was to Laguna Beach, where we walked along the cliffs that are now 
covered with huge homes.

After I moved to the Bay area in 1985, our friendship revived. Hex and I 
took a trip to Eastern Europe that was outstanding for the things we 
didn't see. We stood at the Berlin Wall just a few days before it came 
down. Unhappily, a quake also hit the Bay area and poor Hex couldn't 
believe that Jenny was not at the bottom of that apartment tower.

Later we joined 2 other Pomonans for a great trip to Alaska and the 
eastern part of the Soviet Union. When traveling with Hex, our 
compartment or hotel room was always the center for songs and jokes. 
Once it got so crowded that people couldn't get past in the corridor and 
complained.

As life closed in on her, I had to adjust to a changed Hex. But she 
still loved to relish even a small adventure, such as scooting in her 
wheel chair out to a deck near the dining room. To feel the sun again, 
fresh air, sweet flowers were enough for her. That picture is with me 
always.

Trip

Helen:

We shared really wonderful, interesting talks and also some deep silences in our moments together. You always had a smile and a hug for me. Asking about my Mom because you cared. Told me sotries about your girls.

You were always determined to keep going, walking and moving. You were and are a real inspiration. Have a kind and warm heart

I feel preveleged to have spent  many years and many sessions with you.

Sandra Kebede (Helen's massage therapist)

Here is the "Storkogram" that my Dad Bill sent to his sister; Helen (in Minneapolis) when I was born. I weighed 7 Lb.s, 7 Oz. on 7/7/54. This is a thoughtful gesture to Helen. Since she always cared deeply about the well-being of all, 
Bill was prompted to inform Helen immediately that all was well.

I saw a cartoon in the New Yorker yesterday which made me think of mom. It was a little girl in bed, speaking up to her father as he held a fairy tale book in his hand, and she says "Skip to the part where the princess climbs to the top of the corporate ladder."

Mom always felt it was important for her daughters to know that fairy tales weren't true-to-life stories. She didn't want us to think that we were going to meet a prince and live happily ever after (even though we both did) (and I know she was happy about that).

 

Every year before school began, Helen would round up the kids on our street and take us to an ice cream parlor in Los Altos. Probably trying to reinforce positive feelings about the summer into school year transition--but we didn't hold it against her! We had some great parents in the neighborhood, and I miss them all. Both the departed and the simply far away.

Mom always told her daughters to play by the rules, but she didn't always do that herself. One of my favorite stories was when Mom was a lecturer at Stanford.  She was teaching a group students from the Stanford Business School one day when she decided to jetison the class lecture to explose these students to something beyond business creation and money making.  She brought a bunch of leaves to class, insisting the students pass them around and share their thoughts on their color, shape, and beauty.  I often wondered what those young students thought of class that day, but Mom always received top-notch evaluations at the end of every quarter.  

Mom was always creative about Christmas gifts. One year, when she lived on Fallon Place at the top of Taylor Street, San Francisco, we received a gift in the form of a note that told us that if we wanted our present, we had to look for it, and our first hint was behind a Christmas display at a prominent hotel on Knob Hill. That hint lead us to the Tomasso's (restaurant) sign where she hid another hint. Our treasure hunt led us all over downtown and North Beach where we found our hints in the most clever places. After much laughter and fun, we finally found our way back to her condo at Fallon Place where we received our gift 2-3 hours later. I can't even remember what it was because the to me, the gift was the experience.