Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, March 22, 1994 TAG: 9403220122
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Kathleen Wilson
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
A group that has also learned firsthand how to face the inevitability that\ at one point, a lifetime comes to an end.
They're the Widowed Persons Service of the Roanoke Valley. A group of 18\ widows and widowers founded this organization locally a little over a year ago.
"This is home," said Madeleene Craighead, sitting in Juanita Howison's home\ on Mudlick Road. "We know where everything is here."
The board meets at Juanita's monthly, followed by a potluck dinner attended\ by all of the members.
There's no finer or more gracious hostess than Juanita. Five bridge tables\ were each set for four. Each covered with blue linens, fine silver flatware and\ blue delft china.
There was a silver or crystal sugar and creamer in the center of each table,\ right next to tiny bottles filled with sprigs of forsythia.
"We understand each other," explained Madeleene. "There's such a close-knit\ feeling. It's something I don't share with anyone else. Not even at church."
But they don't want you to think they're a bereavement organization,\ although you won't find a more compassionate listener than any one of the\ members of the Widowed Persons Service.
They're not really a support group either. They don't sit around with\ counselors, getting in touch with their feelings.
"It's a way of getting people together," explained Juanita. "I'm a widow.\ And when you become a widow, you feel like you become an island unto yourself.\ It doesn't have to be that way. You need social interaction."
That's what they're all about.
Each month they split up the obituaries and contact the surviving spouses by\ letter, followed by a gentle phone call.
"Some women don't know how to balance a checkbook when their husband dies,"\ said Juanita. "We want them to know we're here to help them with that. Or\ whatever else they might need."
But these monthly potluck dinners are strictly for fun. And everyone -\ myself included - has a ball.
"The food's so good here we're thinking of getting into catering," joked\ Larry Hays, who with Felix Sorrentino made a grand attempt to sing the Irish\ ballad for which I am named, "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen."
"Tell her about the time you got locked in the bathroom, Lillian,"\ encouraged Madeleene, a woman with a God-given talent to make people giggle.
"That was the most excitement we've ever had," laughed Lillian.
When Roger Hodnett entered the room, Madeleene leaned over and said, "I\ never thought they'd get him to come! He is Virginia Heights Baptist Church.
"And I sure hope he doesn't recognize me, because I haven't been in a while," she added, just seconds before Roger walked over saying, "I know you!"
Over dinner Lillian and I agreed we sure enjoyed Holly Hunter's performance in "The Piano" because the actress's voice irritates both of us.
"But there was so much nudity!" she told Larry.
"I started out covering my face with my hands, and then realized I'd paid $4.50 to see this so I might as well watch."
(I told her to check out "Shadowlands" or "Remains of the Day.")
Like many, Lillian is often disappointed by movie adaptations of books she's enjoyed. Like "The Prince of Tides."
"I sure liked that Nick Nolte, though," she said a tad wickedly.
Larry told me some of his funnier war stories. My favorite was about a buddy of his who got captured twice in one day.
Larry is the organization's team leader for men. "Men are not not joiners," he said. But this gathering was well attended by some of the most charming, handsome men I've been lucky enough to dine with in quite a while.
Larry's face lights up when he speaks of Juanita. She's a talented woman, with a houseful of beautiful oil paintings in the Flemish medium.
She's also runs the local chapter of the National League of Pen Women.
("You should see the number of letters we get from men in penitentiaries who think we're an organization of women to write to them!")
You leave an evening with the Widowed Persons Service of Roanoke Valley very impressed.
But I was most touched with obvious commitment each member had made to their spouse, evidenced in the number of years they were married.
The average number of years the members were married is 47.
Virginia Rudolph had a hard time figuring out how long she'd been married. It's been a long time since anyone asked.
Virginia considers herself still very much married.
She explained: "I didn't stop counting when he died."
by CNB