In Memoriam — Alice Pfeiffer Deethardt
(August 15, 1922 – April 12, 2012)
Written by John F. Deethardt II
NOTICE:THIS BLOG WILL BE TAKEN DOWN IN FOUR WEEKS. (jfd-from today: 3-6-14)
I live now the “someday” that everyone else will have. I cannot stop the tears. We were married for two-months shy of fifty-four years. It was my privilege and huge good fortune for me to have a lifetime of dedicated care for her with everyday happiness. Mountains of love, and we reached the top where the view was magnificent. What a grand way to live life. How did I get so lucky? I have no answer.
I have to distinguish between “good luck” and “good fortune”. The former is happenstance, random and unforeseen. Good fortune has the hand of intent and drive and coming together to form something. Our marriage began with a plan in the minds of Alice’s friends in Valparaiso, IN, Fred and Edith Wood, to bring us together. That is not “good luck”, but “good fortune” that I can feel so tremendously strongly, vividly, overcome now as I write this. I am now immobilized at the strength of the thought of that love. In the backgound plays the music on the xm-radio the melodies in Elgar’s Enigma Variations. The music with her will never stop. Ever. Everlasting. I am trying here to make you feel it, too, in your emotional tie, for your emotional investment in your significant relationship because everyone should achieve this level of good fortune. Yes, I held that kind of emotion while she lived, even to that highest level, and I did not get this as a result of her death.
Since she was an academic herself, I felt that giving her a life in academia made her feel right at home. What a way to live, a life of thought, surrounded by thinkers, some of the smartest people, artists, scientists, builders of people for the world of endeavor, and those guys and girls were great fun-lovers, too. Then there were the rah-rah weekends, of the cheerful tailgating and battles on fields and courts of fun and games.
The academic life of higher education was a place where Alice thrived. It was really a very good life for us together, a rattling good partnership. You had to see her in that context. She was royal. She and the university president’s wife were great friends, together with many others in administration, departmental chairs, and professors in many different disciplines. She was well liked wherever she went. It was a wonderful life, starting at USC, and continuing at TTU. I will reflect on that, often.
At this point, I am fortunate to have work, a book to write. It will be dedicated to her. “For Alice: It is said, it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. I dedicate this work to my candle-maker, Alice Pfeiffer Deethardt.” I believe it will be one that has the potential to affect every citizen of the United States, concerning something I spent my career teaching. Sound grandiose? Well, I think I can deliver.
I always joked that Alice had the same birthday as Napoleon. One Halloween, Alice and I went to a departmental party being held at someone’s house. Alice wore a Napoleon costume with mask, and sword at the side. I dressed up as Josephine, chartreus tu-tu, mask with long hair, bare legs and jogging shoes. We knocked on the door, they answered. Nobody among all our colleagues knew us until we declared ourselves. Alice had the perfect stature for the part. (Napoleon WAS short. Wasn’t he?)
6-7-8
June Seventh 1958. June Seventh 2008. All this all in one day: a Golden wedding anniversary, a marriage with son number two (Ray), to Rossana, and a proposal of marriage by son number one (John III), to the Colorado nurse of the year, Debbie, the down-on-one-knee bit. This family loves its milestones loaded with events! This family!
The academic life of higher education was a place where Alice thrived. It was really a very good life for us together, a rattling good partnership. You had to see her in that context. She was royal. She and the university president’s wife were great friends, together with many others in administration, departmental chairs, and professors in many different disciplines. She was well liked wherever she went. It was a wonderful life, starting at USC, and continuing at TTU. I will reflect on that, often.
At this point, I am fortunate to have work, a book to write. It will be dedicated to her. “For Alice: It is said, it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. I dedicate this work to my candle-maker, Alice Pfeiffer Deethardt.” I believe it will be one that has the potential to affect every citizen of the United States, concerning something I spent my career teaching. Sound grandiose? Well, I think I can deliver.
I always joked that Alice had the same birthday as Napoleon. One Halloween, Alice and I went to a departmental party being held at someone’s house. Alice wore a Napoleon costume with mask, and sword at the side. I dressed up as Josephine, chartreus tu-tu, mask with long hair, bare legs and jogging shoes. We knocked on the door, they answered. Nobody among all our colleagues knew us until we declared ourselves. Alice had the perfect stature for the part. (Napoleon WAS short. Wasn’t he?)
6-7-8
June Seventh 1958. June Seventh 2008. All this all in one day: a Golden wedding anniversary, a marriage with son number two (Ray), to Rossana, and a proposal of marriage by son number one (John III), to the Colorado nurse of the year, Debbie, the down-on-one-knee bit. This family loves its milestones loaded with events! This family!
I want to add here this bit I had written as it was happening.
[An Interpolation (4-23-12)]
It is now midnight of the 3rd of April as I write to inform you as her friend. I have been cut in half by this experience. We do not know what will happen from here on. The tears will not stop. Jnie and his Debbie and Bubba and his Rossana came to the hospital where we were with her all day. This house is quiet. And empty. She was looking forward to seeing the championship basketball game tonight.
I do not have to tell you anything about her. You know her very well. I knew I married a gem of a person in 1958. The year before, I remember going to her house in Woodstock on December 23, coming late from my teaching job in Valparaiso, Indiana, driving through the darkness and then the Christmas-festive Chicago and rough traffic heading to a wonderland still 60 miles away. I had proposed to her on our first date several months before. (I cannot remember if I dropped to one knee to do the deed. We were sitting on a couch, in the home of friends.) And now I was to give her the ring.
She showed up at the door of that great Victorian home, sparkling in the eyes all the glamour anyone could ever imagine in a beauty queen and a big smile. Lovely. Warm. Open. Energised. Inside myself I was jumping and squeaking — THIS, for me! Check out those nails, perfectly sized and shaped to a rounded point and painted red at the end of hands smooth and creamy and soft to hold. The lashes, ah! The gem-stones here and there flash from any ambient light. The eyes have brief glints. I have told her many times, in a great variety of ways, what a great friendly character she had, and she always pooh-poohed the idea in a pleased way.
She took the ring. I breathed freely. (Was there any doubt?) Thus began our history together.
[End Interpolation.]
Alice is survived by two sons, John F. Deethardt III and Raymond Peter Deethardt, named after Alice’s father who owned and operated the drug store on the Woodstock town square. I am her husband, John F. Deethardt II, Emeritus Professor, Texas Tech University, Lubbock, Texas. We married in 1958.
This memorial is called a “Year-Book” because Alice knows -er- knew yearbooks well. She was for many years a high school year book advisor, at Woodstock, Illinois, Community High School. I also taught there for six years before earning my doctorate and going into university teaching.
It is now the hope of her family, that all those who have known her will do what the high school kids did at the end of the year, when the yearbooks were distributed: sign the books of others and get yours signed by all your friends and acquaintances, and teachers, too. The little comments that were collected scribbled in the yearbook remind one later of all the good times and characters who populated their school life WAY BACK THEN.
Since we know that she has many friends, coast to coast, border to border, this memorial blog requests everyone to write a comment about Alice as she is remembered by all who knew her, “yearbook style”.
Alice was affectionately known as “Pfeiff”.
She was born in Woodstock, Illinois, to Raymond Peter Pfeiffer and Jessie Jewett Pfeiffer.
After she graduated from Woodstock (Illinois) Community High School in 1940, she spent a year at Ferry Hall girls prep school in Lake Forest, IL. She attended Northwestern University and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in 1944.
She became “Pfeiff”, a teacher of English at Woodstock Community High School, 1944-1956, and the year book adviser for many years.
Alice was socially active wherever she lived. In Woodstock, she was secretary of the Woodstock Players, a summer drama group composed of actors (Paul Newman, Shelly Berman, among others) from the Goodman School in Chicago. She also served as an officer of the Woodstock Hospital Auxiliary and edited its newsletter. In addition, she was an officer of the Woodstock Garden Club, and a Red Cross charity volunteer. As a sidelight, Orson Welles attended the Todd School in Woodstock. He would occasionally go downtown and sit at the Pfeiffer Pharmacy fountain. She told me that once her father had to ask him to move on, for some reason. Orson performed plays of Shakespeare at the old Opera House across the square. That square is also where some of the film, “Ground Hog Day” was filmed, and in and around town. That Opera House fell into disuse. When I was teaching in Woodstock, I heard about it. I took a bunch of high school students who were my Thespians down there, and we began the project of cleaning it up so we could mount a play there. Dead pigeons and all the dirt and dust. Later, I directed a Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera there, H.M.S. Pinafore, with townfolk taking part.
She and I moved to Evanston, IL, where I completed studies for the doctorate degree at Northwestern University. We moved to Pueblo, Colorado, for a professorship at Southern Colorado State College (now University of Southern Colorado). After two years, I was given a position as assistant professor at Texas Tech University in Lubbock, TX., where I finished my academic career.
Alice became chair of the annual fund raising auction of services for Achievement Rewards for College Scientist (ARCS). She was elected to be the University Women’s Club President. She was also a member of the Faculty Women’s Club. Her prominence in university activities probably got me appointed by the president to head the planning of festivities for the 1973-1975 Texas Tech University Semicentennial. It was formerly Texas Technological College, named to service the great hopes of that farming-centered region on the high plains of West Texas.
At my retirement after twenty-one years teaching, I got a dinner, to quote Red Button’s famous comedy act. Everybody in the department and a hundred or more students showed up to surprise me one noon hour downtown. Alice sat with me at the elevated head table. I was so proud of her that day. Soon after, the family moved to Highlands Ranch, Colorado. Our two sons live and work in the Denver Metro area.
She easily made friends, at every stop in several states, because she was inordinately friendly. She was great at socializing, bridge club, faculty bowling league, on and on. (I was a socializing project.) She was well known for her cooking and baking. Her recipe box has concoctions that she collected from all her relatives and friends, named on the cards, and smeared with hints of dough from her sticky-fingering those cards. The cards go back in her family a couple of generations. I will enjoy her raspberry jam and mixed berry jam while it lasts, just a few jars from now.
She loved her bird feeders and spent much time filling and tending them — “ahem”, guess who got that job — for the small birds and the Hummers. (I will keep up the chore as the Alice Memorial Bird Feeding Station. She was a taskmaster for the birds.) She loved her dogs. In childhood, her favorite was “Brittie”, a terrier. After marrying John, their first “child” was an Airdale terrier, “Ruffie”, who jumped on people in greeting them eye-to-eye. After Ruffie came a Miniature Schnauzer, “Muffie”, who had a pup, called “Whiskey”, for her voice. “Whiskey” was the runt of the “litter”, and she was a “litter” of one.
Alice was also a horsewoman with her mare. She was adept at jumping with “Kat”. Her horse was usually at the head of the Woodstock Memorial Day parade, which would pass down West Jackson Street, past the family home two blocks from the town square. Her grandfather built that home, a great Victorian. It is now on the county historical record, the “Emilus C. Jewett House, 1893”.
There was one problem when the parade passed the home. “Kat” would turn into the steps of the house and try to go up the steps. Alice said “Kat” always knew she was in a parade and would strut grandly.
Alice was stricken April 3, 2012, about 3 p.m. Shortly before, she brought me an egg salad sandwich where I was working at the computer. Then she went to her chair in the living room. A short while later, I wanted to ask her something. I walked into the living room 13 steps away. I found her with her head lowered to the left, barely breathing. I took hold of her shoulders to look hard and speak to her, but there was no response.
I went immediately to the phone and called 911, frantic. It seems that as soon as I finished the call, the responders were at the front door. Time at these moments was not functioning properly in my head. They moved some furniture, laid out their stretcher and put Alice on it, and carried her to the ambulance. A policeman took me to the Littleton Adventist hospital emergency room in his patrol car. Hemorrhagic stroke was the diagnosis. Blood vessels rupture, starving the brain cells; they die. Alice lingered for nine days. All of the questions you can imagine stood in front of us shouting, “what to do?” It was terribly difficult to see such a powerful personality undergo the process. You may fault me for giving such graphic details, but, well, that’s life.
Toward the end, I was rubbing her foot on the left side of the hospital bed. Her right side was paralyzed. I felt her left foot nudge me. She’s talking! That had to be volitional, I was sure. I put my hand in hers. I felt a light squeeze. That, too, had to be volitional. In her way, she responded to me, silently, nonverbally.
As she lay on that bed, mute, except for the heavy breathing, I had received two life-closing signs. She was affirming something, in both signs. Prizes. Keepers forever. In this very quiet catastrophe sneaking up on me, I had an overwhelming realization of the magnitude of magnificence of what I had had for years, but now it is going away, far and away from me. We never fought. We never argued. We were perfectly agreeable. We discussed. Something wonderful and immensely beautiful has passed my way and then, away.
Your Comments, Please!
One example of a comment we received from a good friend of Alice will be the first comment.
[BEGIN QUOTE]
Tribute to Alice Pfeiffer Deethardt
Alice was my oldest friend and dearest childhood friend. Our friendship began in the third grade and has never faltered. Somewhere along the way, we developed the mantra, IS MY MA THERE? It stemmed from the fact that our mothers played bridge together and we might be able to reach them via a telephone call made to Dean or Jackson Street. I can’t remember exactly when the nicknames of ALFIE BELLE and MAGGIE LU originated, but they remained permanent. Even though Alfie Belle went to Northwestern University and I to the University of Illinois, our friendship never faltered.
Alfie Belle was a dear and wonderful person and I shall miss her always.
With much love, Maggie Lu (Margaret Phillips Steinam)
[END QUOTE]
The staffs of the year book she advised (WOODCOHI) over many years wrote acknowledgements and dedications galore, typically, such as this: (Under the picture of Alice E. Pfeiffer)
[BEGIN QUOTE]
This is our expression of all the things we feel inside about a grand person, Alice E. Pfeiffer. It is only through her guidance and her efforts that we are able to assemble this year book.We deeply appreciate the tact and originality with which Miss Pfeiffer has coordinated our ideas. Working with “Pfeiff” has been a delightful experience; her generosity, her ingenuity, and her sparkling wit have made a lasting impression of a lovely association.
[END QUOTE]
And the picture? What a “babe”! Yes! Yes! I know! I was one of the luckiest lottery winners ever to take in a haul! You can have your mega-millions! I got mine in 1957 when I bought my ticket (proposal) and claimed the jackpot (the wedding) in 1958.
The purpose of this blog is to harvest as many comments as there are people who knew, respected, and cared for Alice, coast to coast, border to border, friends, former students and neighbors.