Dave Donovan's Eulogy for his Mom, Majorie Donovan.

Marjorie's Obituary

Recorded by David Donovan on May 7th 2020.

DONOVAN, Marjorie Elaine, 100, of Lebanon, peacefully passed away on Thursday, April 30, 2020 at Otterbein Springboro Senior Life Center. Born Marjorie Miller on April 1, 1920 in Cincinnati, OH to Edward E. and Louise Valentine (nee: McKee), she lived through many major events in the arc of her long life.
She attended grade school in Hartwell and was a proud graduate of Walnut Hills High School, class of 1938. At Miami University she met William Donovan of Akron, Ohio and the two of them were engaged in the spring of 1942. The war intervened: William served in the army in Europe while Marjorie taught music and later served in the United States Marine Corps in 1944 and 1945. 
In July of 1946 she married William Otis Donovan and together they began their careers in Music Education. They each received their Masters of Music Education at Columbia University in New York, diplomas signed by then Columbia University President Dwight David Eisenhower. Marjorie was a music educator for the Lebanon City School District for 26 years until her retirement in 1988. She and her husband were founding members of Saint Patrick’s Episcopal Church in Lebanon where Marjorie served for nearly 50 years as the organist, choir director, founder and director of the Saint Patrick’s Boys Choir. Marjorie also was Chairman of the Lebanon Area Artist Series and on the Board of Directors for the Lebanon Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Marjorie and William were beloved music educators and, in the late 90’s, they were honored by the Lebanon City Schools in the re-naming of Lebanon Intermediate School to Donovan Intermediate, now known as Donovan Elementary.
Marjorie was preceded in death by her parents, her husband, and one daughter, Katherine Ann Donovan. She is survived by her two sons David William (Carol) Donovan of Lebanon, and Daniel Dennis (Regina Flanagan) Donovan of St Paul, MN; a sister, Carlyle Otto of Bowie, MD, two nephews, George Otto and Richard (Karen) Otto; two grandchildren, Graham Douglas Donovan and Broderick Duval (Gabrielle) Donovan; two step grandchildren, Jennifer Michelle (Colt) Perry and Austin Robert (Angela) Poe; and four great grandchildren, Adrien Poe, Siena Poe, Wrangler Donovan, and Emerson Perry.

Due to the Covid-19 Pandemic, private services will be held on Wednesday, May 6, 2020 at 12:30 PM in Lebanon Cemetery. Reverend Jackie Matisse will officiate. Donations have been requested to either the St Patrick’s Episcopal Church, 232 East Main St, Lebanon, OH 45036 or to the Otterbein Hospice, 696 N St Rt 741, Lebanon, OH, 45036. There will be a memorial service held at a later date at the church.

If you are experiencing any symptoms, we encourage you to pay your respects via alternate methods, such as sending a sympathy card or a message through the online guestbook links below. Please do your part to slow the spread and follow the guidelines as prescribed by the CDC and Federal & State mandates.

Transcript

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Ah, Eulogy in memory of Marjorie Elaine Miller Donovan, born April 1st, 1920 Died April 30th 2020 one century and one month I was three, I think, and sleeping in my little bed there at 4 40 Ward ST. And I had a dream, and in the stream I was playing with other Children in the neighborhood, and I heard them say things like, David's mother died. David's mother is dead. And then I remembered talking with somebody and I said, I really miss my mom. She died and then I was sitting up in bed crying. My eyes out. Father came rushing in from their room and he said, David, you've had a bad dream And he scooped me up and carried me into their bedroom. And there was Mother sitting up in bed, calmly reading a book. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. She was there. She hadn't died. I felt so relieved, and I felt safe. She was born Marjorie Miller to Edward and Louise Miller in Cincinnati, Ohio. Woodrow Wilson was still president when she went to school in Hartwell. She decided then and there that she wanted to be a music teacher just like her music teacher. When she went to Walnut Hills High School, she sang in the chorus and played timpani in the orchestra. One of her classmates There was a young fellow named Carl Reuben, later to be known as Common please Judge Carl Rubin, and still later as federal court judge Carl Reuben that Carl Reuben, a friend of mine, worked for the judge as a clerk when he was in the federal court. And he was remembering people that he knew from Lebanon, and he happened somehow to mention Marjorie Donovan. Carl Rubin said, Oh yes, Marjorie Miller. I went to school with her. She was quite a looker. I told that story to Mother, and she laughed. But she also looked rather pleased. Well, then came Miami University and her sophomore year. A faithful thing happened when she ran into a tall, skinny fellow carrying a trumpet case walking across campus. She thought she had seen him somewhere, so she asked him if he had been at a certain place, and the tall, skinny fellow said no and ran away. But I am very certain he noticed what the good judge noticed, and they began to see each other, whether called it courting. Sometimes a date might consist of taking a long walk or sharing a Coca Cola or having a picnic together. I asked Mother, how long did it take you to discover Dad's sense of humor? She said, Oh, my no time whatsoever. And she told a story about them going to a fall formal dance together. Now these were rather lavish affairs in those days because the universities would hire some of the best big bands in the country. Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, Already Shaw. So it was at one such event that Mother decided she wanted to make a special skirt. So she bought material and a pattern and went to her parents home the weekend before so that she could use her mother's sewing machine. She got the skirt put together just the way she wanted it, bought a pretty blouse and borrowed her mother's Kremlin petticoat to give the skirt its proper flair. So as she was waiting in the lobby of With Record, where the dance was to be held, just a jyoung William Donovan a row arrived. Just a jyoung. William Donovan arrived. She felt the only button on the petticoat give way and things starting to go southward. She scooped things up and went to the ladies room, where she found a safety pin and managed to prepare the situation. When she stepped out onto the dance floor, William Donovan was standing there with a twinkle in his eye and he said, All secure. In the spring of 1942 they were alone in the formal gardens there at Miami University, and Dad asked Mother a question that went something like this. If I'm not called up into the army or if I am called up, if I make it back and if I make it through my senior year and if we still feel the same way, will you marry me? All of those conditions had to be met, and they were over a four year period of time. And in July of 1946 they were married at her parent's house in Ken Would in front of the fireplace, and thus began the rich tapestry of their married life together, which lasted almost 68 years. They attacked their professions as music educators with enthusiasm. They went to New York to get their master's degrees at Columbia University. Their diplomas were signed by the then Colombia President Dwight David Eisenhower. Returning to Ohio, they started the family. I came first, followed by Brother Dan later by Sister Cathy. We had a good life at 4 40 Ward ST. Not lavish but comfortable. We had a lot of fun. We played outdoors a lot. We took camping trips. We had relatives visiting. We shared in love, joy and humor. We also shared in the terrible tragedy of Cathy's death. In 1975 the family grew, and all of a sudden there was two grandsons, Graham and Brody, and still later, two step grandchildren, Jennifer and Austin. By now, there were two daughters in law, Carol Donovan and Regina Flanagan. Then came some great grandchildren for mother. Adrian was first, followed by Sienna, followed by Wrangler Donovan and finally Emerson Perry, a large family that all loved Mamady beyond profession and family. The most important aspect of life for Mother was her involvement with ST Patrick's. She was a founding member and, of course, everybody knows her work with the adult choir. As organist of the church, as founder and director of the ST Patrick's Boys Choir, which ought to put her on a short list for sainthood. But there's one story that isn't quite as well known. I don't think Mother was the last survivor of that meeting in 1962 at the Golden Land on ST Patrick's Day, when members of the diocese and other interested Episcopalians first discussed the idea of a Episcopal congregation in Lebanon, it was joked at the time. Well, we ought to call it ST Patrick's. But nothing was decided until later. A little over a year later, when a group of volunteers met in the old Oswald funeral home, which they were going to renovate and spruce up to be an appropriate place for worship. And we had a meeting, Father Gail chaired the meeting and discussed many things about what was coming. And finally, he said, Now we have to do decide upon the name of our congregation, and he asked for suggestions. Well, my dad, no doubt playing on the fact that we were in a former funeral home, suggested Church of the Resurrection mother was far more sensible. It should be ST Patrick's, she said, and it was settled. Mother and dad each had away of having a strength that would complement the other's weakness. My dad would sometimes lament about that damn Miller persistence and obsession with detail. Mother fashioned it into a metaphor of them, working on a wallpapering project together, Dad would take whole sheets and cover vast amounts of area on the wall while mother was left with a razor blade, fiddling around plug plates and window sills and door jams. As she put it. He did the splash cities. I did the gravity's ever since his passing in 2014 not a day went by, but what? She missed him terribly. And in that time I became more involved with her day to day life. I would drive her to the store to the bank or sometimes just drive her around the country side. Once a year. She wanted to go to a place on Waynesville Road, where we had parked the car and climb a steep hillside, and she would want to look at the wildflowers, something she dearly loved to do and have done for decades. And she told me all about them. She knew which ones grew first, which ones would come along. Later, she knew them all by name, and she would show me this blue eyed Mary Jack in the pulpit. Dutchman's bridges, red Trillium, white trillium, yellow violet, but her favorite, not surprisingly sweet William. So now I want to go back to that day in 1942 when Dad made his highly conditional proposal to mother and we teased and joked with him over the years about this, and he accepted it with good grace. But I have to reflect. He was only 21 at the time. Mother was barely 22. The world was at war, the country was mobilizing, and it had not yet been six months since the bombing of Pearl Harbor. In short, he asked the only way he could have, and Mother said yes, and she reached down and she picked a long blade of grass and she circled it, made a ring and tied it with a not and put it on her finger as a symbol of her love for William Donovan. She kept this fragile piece of grass in a tiny cardboard box on a pound of cotton, all the rest of her life more precious than gold or jewels. It now rests with her body, its purpose fulfilled. And if they are together again, as I believe they are, then they certainly must be like they were then, on that day, young and beautiful, deeply in love and bravely facing a future in those darkest of times. So thus believing I further think that at this moment our father is saying something very funny. And her mother and Kathy are laughing. Come in. Oh!