Memories of
Elizabeth

Elizabeth and I met when we were 10 at Selsdon Elementary School. By the time we reached high school we were inseparable friends. We supported each other all through those difficult teen and adolescent years. We scrupulously avoided the dreaded sports requirements, survived the draconian headmistress Miss Simpson, and established ourselves as part of the somewhat difficult, intellectually bright class of girls who were a permanent pain to the headmistress who ruled with an iron hand.

We took our first solo trip together at 15, Youth Hosteling to Winchester walking all the way. It became apparent Elizabeth had a way with stray animals. All through our long hikes, later joined by our friend Susan completing the trio, some bedraggled stray would attach itself to Elizabeth. Throughout our friendship at home or abroad some unfortunate stray would be taken in.

We became part of each other's households. Elizabeth’s kindness and generosity are fondly remembered by my sister. It was Elizabeth who explained to her that although her big sister was going to teachers’ college not University, she should not be deterred and should apply. My failure to learn Latin meant I couldn’t get into a university in England. She really made a huge difference in my sister’s life who went on to be a university professor. She says Elizabeth really made a difference to her life.

Elizabeth and I wanted so much to travel. After high school we got summer jobs as waitresses at a holiday camp on the coast to earn enough for a trip. This was where she met Michael. Good things to come from what was otherwise a first experience of the somewhat bizarre holiday camp culture.

Elizabeth and I took our first trips abroad together, Italy and Paris where I joined her as she took University lectures there as part of her degree. We shared a passion for bookshops, museums, and art galleries which continued lifelong throughout our friendship.

After Mike and Elizabeth married, our lives took different paths. Elizabeth and Michael went to Venezuela with Action in Venezuela. Long letters kept our connection going. After I married, I moved to Boston and went back to academia finishing several degrees. Elizabeth and Micheal also moved to the US to work for the World Bank. Elizabeth and I explored Washington, DC. We visited bookshops, museums, art galleries, and went on long walks. This continued in Portland where Elizabeth and Mikes’ house become a home from home. The house was filled with wonderful art works – Mike's sculptures, painting and so much more. Elizabeth's wonderful quilt work opened this entirely new art world. She made me more open to new elements of modern art.

More than anything, Elizabeth’s kindness, her generosity and her gift of friendship and empathy, her emotional support and understanding in good times and bad, have made a difference in my life and in that of others. Her common sense and practicality made her someone who through thick and thin I could turn to. The close bond we formed starting at age 10 held throughout our lives. Mike, Matthew and Martin were my family at a distance. Her friendship provided a bond that has lasted a lifetime.

I met Elizabeth when we came back to England from Jamaica and after some delay, I was sent to a new school - It must have been about 1954. It was a turbulent and difficult time for my family, and I didn’t like the English or the school.

In retrospect, meeting Elizabeth was the best thing that happened to me around then. She was a clever, witty, cheerful girl, very much at home, or so it seemed, in Coulsdon, a suburb on the southern edge of London. I liked her immediately, and came to know and like her mother, a lively and irreverent person, usually with a cigarette in her hand. I remember a lot of trying to dodge games, dealing with the awful food, gossiping about the teachers, sitting laughing on the grass talking about books we had read or radio programmes we had heard. I am proud that it was I, not the school, who told her that she could get a scholarship to university and everything would be paid for; tuition, living expenses, even the fare home. And in due course she went to Leicester to read French, the first member of her family to go to university.

We went on knowing each other after we had left school because she had met Mike, who was a postgraduate student at the London School of Economics, where I had gone for my first degree. We kept in touch – mostly by letter, she was a terrific letter-writer – and then later, when I visited the States or she came to England, we met up in various places and ended going on little trips together. We were both interested in quilting, and went to the National quilt show in Birmingham and to a quilter’s weekend in Sisters, Oregon. By this time, she and Mike had travelled and worked in a dazzling series of places, and she had learnt a great deal about people’s and especially women’s lives.

She was a good daughter, and used to come back to England most years to see her mother and her family. She would get in touch with me and we would usually manage to meet and talk about how our lives, children, and countries were doing. She had great empathy and good sense, and a sort of natural authority which came from her wide experience of how human lives are lived. I always loved talking to her, and to Mike, and although we didn’t meet all that often she was a great friend, from whom I learnt a lot. I am very very sad that her life is to be cut short.

Elizabeth, I wish we could have seen each other more and had more time….. there is never enough time!

I always loved receiving the letter in the post at Christmas time with all the family news and updates. You all seemed to cram so much in and I loved hearing all about your travels and what adventures you were up to next.

My fondest memories are when you visited and we’d meet up at Nan and Grandads, and you taught us snap grab! Wow! What a vicious game that could turn into and I never knew you were so competitive until then.

They were the best times, when all the family would meet and we’d play games and catch up and listen to each other’s stories and daily life’s. Time all together.

Though there has always been the distance in miles between us you are never far from my thoughts and they are treasured memories that will last a lifetime.

Thank you for always being you. xx

I always remember Elizabeth to be a courteous lady, that is until we played "Snap Grab", then the gloves were off. Irrespective of age or gender, there were no holds barred, her grip became stronger than a Silverback gorilla, a snarl more menacing than a lioness and reflexes quicker than a cat... She was in there gripping, grappling, tearing and yanking at those cards...and I may add, with a gleeful look when she had a big handful of torn, tattered and severely misshaped cards, often followed by a shocked and horrified Nana Russell (Elizabeth’s Mother)... "Elizabeth!". This just seemed to egg Elizabeth on.. "Oh mum, it's fine... It's just a game! ", but we all know snap grab was more than a game, it was a chance to stamp your dominance, it was a show of your power and speed.

The following day coming down to breakfast, hands sore and battle scared from hanging onto cards while being flung from left to right from the savage attack from our aunt. Sitting at the breakfast table and Elizabeth asking Matthew and Martin if they've had their orange juice. It was at this point we knew Elizabeth was back to her calm and collective manner.... That is until the next game of Snap Grab the following evening.

It wasn't until us kids reached the age of 11 or so that we started to show our dominance and this is when the real battles began...

I was just thinking back to my trip to America with Jackie in May 1991, when we stayed with you and Mike in Washington D.C. I feel so blessed that I was able to spend that time with you all.

I fondly remember cooking dinner with you, Elizabeth, and exchanging recipes. Even though mine were often improvised, you always listened and watched with interest. I also loved going to the big American supermarkets; I know my excitement over the peanut butter machine used to make you chuckle!

Every evening, we would all sit and talk for hours, never running out of things to talk about. Mike showed us his sculptures that he was working on, and I was always fascinated at the size and detail of them and that his imagination knew no bounds.

For my 19th Birthday you both took me and Jackie to a murder mystery show at the Theatre, which had audience interaction. It was so much fun and sparked my interest in going to the Theatre, which I still have to this day.

During our stay, Matthew and Martin travelled over and it was so much fun to spend time with them catching up on life and laughing about all the mischief and adventures we all used to get up to at Nan’s house and at Box hill in our younger days.

Elizabeth drove us to a historic house during our trip, and I remember the house vaguely, but my main memory is about how much it rained and how soaked through to the skin we all were and having no choice but to have our picnic in the car. Despite the weather it was a day filled with so much fun and laughter; I would do it again in a heartbeat.

I feel so blessed that I was able to spend this time with you all.

I have such wonderful memories when you were over from America and we would meet and stay at Nan and granddads

Many great times like when the piñata was hung on the washing line and we all tried our hardest, whacking away till the sweet dropped out. The never ending times we all apple pied the beds, I am sure to the dismay of the adults!

Treasured childhood times that will always be remembered

Sending you my love

Dear Elizabeth,

I have such fond memories of when you used to come back to England. I loved listening to your childhood memories and travel stories.

While you were living in Venezuela, you brought a beautiful, colourful piñata filled with lovely handmade wooden gifts. It was such fun trying to smash the donkey to pieces; I caught a beautiful wooden carved jewellery box which I adored.

I also remember being told off for fighting with the boys (especially Martin!). I’m sure I tested your patience more than once. But you were always so kind and fair with me, and I never forgot that.

I was also so lucky to receive a National Geographic magazine each month that you sent to me. I used to look forward to it dropping through the letterbox with such excitement.

I’ll always remember when you visited us in Torquay when Mason and Ellisha were little. I was tired and feeling a bit overwhelmed, and you took the time to sit and talk with me. You were so caring and understanding, the tips and advice you gave me really helped.

Thank you for being such a wonderful Aunt. Even with the distance between us, I’ve always felt close to you.

Sending you all my love,

Karen xxxx

I was only about 12 or 13 when I first met Elizabeth and I was mightily impressed. She appeared so trendy, with her short dark shiny hair - a bit like a pop idol.

Following her wedding to my brother Michael in 1976, relocation to central America, and the birth of her two boys, I have a vivid memory of Elizabeth during a trip to the UK hanging out dozens and dozens of nappies on the washing line at Brentwood when Matthew and Martin were tiny. Each visit at whatever time of year inevitably involved picnics on the beach at Shoebury, often in less-than-ideal weather conditions. Grandma Judith was determined to give Matthew and Martin ‘nice rosy cheeks’ from the bracing sea air, but I think any rosiness was caused by the rapid chattering of their teeth while they stood shivering in their swimming trunks at the water’s edge egged on by Elizabeth wearing a thick coat and scarf!

There was a great deal of hole digging I remember, with Elizabeth urging the boys not to dig such deep holes, whereby they promptly buried each other up to the neck in sand. It would never be allowed under health and safety regulations these days but back then well… it was a different world.

I’ve also many happy memories of going over to Coulsdon and enjoying all the ‘banquets’ with Marjorie, Charles and Elizabeth’s brothers; and then as time went by with the ever-expanding younger generation.

Although I was never introduced to ‘snap grab,’ Elizabeth’s less than genteel streak was certainly revealed when a piñata appeared at Martin’s 9th birthday party. With warlike cries Elizabeth charged forth and demonstrated how to ‘Slay it!’ - much to the excitement of all the nieces and nephews in attendance! Surely not the behaviour expected from an esteemed aunt who should have been acting as an exemplary role model to the younger generation!

The wonderful meals Elizabeth created feature in many of my memories, with her chocolate cookies being legendary and starring strongly in the memories of the next generation as well. She certainly didn’t starve us during our trip to the states with Andrew and Helen in 1995 and Elizabeth even organised for us to stay with Mike and Judy Mehrer who also fed us mightily well.

I’ve spent many a happy hour discussing books with Elizabeth and once, when my visit coincided with a book club meeting, I was delighted to attend. I recall that the book we discussed at that meeting was The White Tiger, but what really stayed in my memory was the food! A table full to bursting with delicious delicacies. No wonder the meeting lasted such a long time!

I loved seeing Elizabeth’s carefully organised fabrics with matching threads and notions when we visited your home in Oregon and was green with envy at the thought of an entire room devoted to craft! My memories of quilts as a child were of those made by Grandma Douglass from repurposed fabrics and lovingly stitched by hand.

Elizabeth’s quilts were not a bit like that; they were works of art with a massive ‘Wow’ factor. I was bowled over when Elizabeth hefted one across the pond for me. How I treasure that beautiful Morning Garden design quilt that Elizabeth made in Beaverton in June 2008. It now has pride of place in my yellow bedroom and for me it conjures up warmth, brightness and happiness even on the dullest of days. Judith

Elizabeth is a great storyteller - most of my memories are from her stories. So many from Venezuela, via my parents, long before I was born, and her many experiences in the US. I’m particularly fond of how her Spanish came from “the streets” of Latin America. It often makes me chuckle whenever I’m failing at speaking Spanish!

I remember clearly that it was only when mum, dad, Helen and I were staying with you in Bethesda when I was about 12, that I realised that Elizabeth wasn’t actually American! Everything written down had American spellings and when I heard a word pronounced “yo-gurt” I remember thinking “what’s that?!” I asked mum and she explained that this is what happened when you move away - still stands out to me today!

Also on that trip, Helen and I were making loads of noise chatting away in your basement as we were wide awake from jet lag and clearly, we woke Elizabeth up. Instead of telling us to shut up (in hindsight what I would have done!) she came and offered us amazing cookies and other snacks. As a kid - that’s the best!!! Elizabeth is a great host and despite bringing chaos to her home, she never seems phased and is always so welcoming.

Fast forward to me being a grown up, Elizabeth and Mike came to visit Laura and me in London. We drove them back to Southend and during the drive Laura had to take a call from a parishioner. Elizabeth was super interested in Laura’s role as a priest, and it sparked some great conversation - Elizabeth is always authentically interested in everyone around her. Andrew

I obviously can’t remember my Christening Day on 7th August 1977, but I know that Aunt Elizabeth agreed to be my Godmother and did a sterling job through the years attempting to keep me on the straight and narrow. The bits I do remember, that may or may not be related to being a Godmother, were the ‘crisp notes’ that appeared each time Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Michael came to visit!

So many visits over the years with memories of all day picnics on the beach and ‘eating out’ at The Shore House. I’m sure we did other things but that’s what stands out in my mind.

One of my most vivid memories is my trip with my ‘sensible’ friend James Lancaster, to see you in the states when I was sixteen. We must have been there on 4th July because there were fireworks and all sorts of celebrations going on, and the best bit was that Aunt Elizabeth let us two boys go out on our own to join in with all the fun. I’m sure you took us on ‘educational’ trips while we were there and gave us a flavour of life in the USA, but unfortunately those memories have faded over time.

I’m so pleased that since 2012 when we moved into our ‘Des Res’ by the sea, Dagmara and I have been able to host a number of BBQ’s in our garden when you visited and as I recall, we have even laid on beautiful weather. A very small thank-you in return for all the lovely experiences you provided for me when I was growing up.Daniel.

When I think of you, Elisabeth, it’s memories of warmth, kindness, and ready laughter. Even though we were separated by geography, recollections from my childhood are peppered with you, Mike, Martin and Matthew. Your Amazing Aunt status was set in stone on the occasion you guys visited during term time - Daniel and I were allowed to skip school for the day, and you took us to the beach!

I remember as if yesterday when you and Mike welcomed Stefan, my German buddy, and me into your home in Washington DC. Two wide-eyed 16-year-olds on our first trip to the USA. You choreographed everything perfectly to ensure it truly was an amazing experience. I don’t know how you managed to cram so much in, but I’m left with a kaleidoscope of wonderful memories; multiple Smithsonian visits – the Native American Art Museum being a standout – Boston, the cherry blossoms in bloom, Lincoln memorial, a basketball game, the Vietnam War memorial, the Whitehouse, and so much more.

Another 14 years went by, and you and Mike welcomed Kirsten and me into your home in Portland. Yet again, another trove of amazing memories. Overwhelmingly, my experience of spending that time with you is your passion for the beauty of the natural world, whether that be your garden or the endless forests of Oregon in the fall. That passion so enthusiastically shared, not only in words, but in your love of art and the crafts you create.

Our stay with you and Mike when we were newly married was a gift that we have often come back to over the years. You welcomed us so warmly and shared not only your home, but your love of life and the area you had chosen to live in. Whether chatting in your kitchen while you cooked another delicious meal or at the wild coastline of Cannon Beach, it was an insight into a life being lived well and full of adventure. You embraced me into your family so easily and looked after me so kindly when I was unwell that time, thank you.

With much love, Kirsten xxx

I have such lovely memories of coming to America to visit in 1995, just before I turned 11. I can still picture being greeted at the door by you with a plate of brownies. Whether that’s exactly how it happened or my mind has reshaped it over time, I’m not entirely sure - but I like to believe it’s true, because it makes me smile every time I think of it.

I loved it when you came to the UK to visit because you always treated us to a meal out and there was invariably some extra pocket money when you waved goodbye. (Obviously that’s not the only reason we enjoyed your visits!)

After Daniel moved to his seafront abode in 2012, our big family gatherings tended to be in his back garden, and it was there in 2023 that my twins got to meet you and Mike. It meant a great deal to me that my aunt and uncle met their great niece and nephew, albeit briefly.

Whenever and wherever we’ve met, I’ve been so interested to hear about your travels and adventures and more recently, I’ve loved seeing you embrace Facebook and use it to share your beautiful quilts. Watching you showcase your creativity has been inspiring and has encouraged me in my own crafting hobbies. It’s been such a joy to see that part of you, even from afar.

Please know how fondly you are thought of, and how grateful I am to carry these memories with me. Helen.

When you look back on 84 years of someone’s life, it is nearly impossible to capture all the things that made them special and amazing. What stands out most to me about Mom is her ability to pull people together to build a community or a family, with the line between them being blurry.

When we lived in El Salvador I remember her in a pantomime for the British club dressed up as a bad guy plotting to blow up something, and I remember the joyful feeling of being a part of such a community. Our birthday parties, even though we didn’t have a lot of resources, were always a blast as we held relay races where the kids dressed in adult clothes and raced up and down the garden, cakes were homemade, games were made up and used whatever we had around - we never wanted for fun and love and our friends loved them.

As we grew older Mom was always at the center of get togethers, whether with family in England, our friends from school, Mom and Dad’s work, our later on as Matt and I started families of our own. I don’t remember a time before making and eating Christmas pudding or mince pies, all the holiday traditions, or everyday things like almost always sitting down to breakfast and dinner together. All these things built the foundation for our family, with Thanksgiving and summer family get-togethers as key times when we all looked forward to having our families together.

Every place we lived, whether for a few years or many, Mom made them all feel like home, a safe and loving place, not only for our immediate family, but also extended family and countless friends who came to stay. It goes without saying that when guests came to stay, Matt and I gave up our bedrooms and took sleeping bags to the basement!

One of Mom’s super powers is getting people to get things done and get organized - she could be tough but was always kind and fair (with the exception of a couple of times I got into trouble…..through no fault of my own ).

It has been great to see my boys and their cousins grow up under Mom’s loving and wonderful influence, and to look back and see how she helped form me into the person I am today

One time, when I was little, I caught a cold and stayed home from school. My Mom and Dad were at work, so I spent the day with Nana. Once I got out of bed, she insisted that I eat something to help me feel better. I remember she made toast with raspberry jam which she cut into strips and dubbed royal guards. It was silly, and the whimsy of it made me smile. We spent the rest of the day playing board games, pick up sticks, quilting, and watching Oregon Art Beat. It's one of my fondest memories with her. She's a wonderful Nana - she brings whimsy and fun to life, teaches me things, and shares so much love.

How lucky am I to have grown up with Nana.

I don’t remember a time before Nana and Grandad moved to Beaverton. Perhaps my earliest memory with Nana and Grandad is peering out the back window of their new house as big excavators and machines tore up the backyard pool to make room for Nana’s far more fitting garden. Over the next 15 years, Nana was often out in the garden, tending to plants of every variety, supervising us splashing around in the fountain and pool in the back patio, and trying in vain to convince us cousins not to careen around the concrete walkway too fast on our plastic trike.

A few years after the deconstruction of the pool, we moved in across the street from Nana and Grandad. I didn’t realize how lucky we were to have our Nana and Grandad just across the street, but I do remember how excited I would be to go over to their house. Whether it was time to go over for the weekly sleepover, or if we were just going over for the evening, I’d always love to go over to our second home. Our excitement was second only to that of Chester and Scruffy when we’d utter the words “time to go to Nana and Grandad’s!”. They’d start vibrating with energy and wagging all over the place. Then, we’d all open the front door, and Noah, the dogs, and I would all go hurtling down the hill to their house, barely stopping to look for cars, and miraculously never cutting up our bare feet as we ran across the streets.

We’d race around the front of the garage, onto the front porch, and open the unlocked front door with a “Hellooooo”. That would be returned with another “Helloooo” as Nana welcomed us into the house. Of course, the first place we’d all converge was the pantry. The dogs had Nana wrapped around their little dog fingers and could always count on a “Biccky”(or two) as they came in the door. Then, Noah and I would raid the pantry. Over the years, we’d go through a variety of different snack fixations, but one of the most prominent for me was three packets of cold instant oatmeal and milk. Then, we’d sit down at the table and tell Nana and Grandad about our day at school, our soccer game, or whatever else was going on. Nana would always warn us not to ruin our appetite for weekly selected dinner which was usually an hour or two later. I can only imagine that Nana and Grandad were incredibly sick of our most requested meals of breaded chicken and burritos after we stopped doing sleepovers.

After snack time, we’d get up to all sorts of things. Sometimes we’d play pickup sticks, or the dreaded scrabble, but I also remember Nana trying her best to make sure us engineering prone grandchildren kept some artistic bones in our bodies. We’d do fuse beads, painting, and a little bit of quilting. Nana was always puttering in her quilting studio. She’d be working on laying out her next project on the foam board, quilting up something in progress, or playing with different fiber art techniques which became decreasingly traditional and increasingly creative over the years. In particular, as I got into hiking in high school, I remember Nana asking me to keep an eye out for anything particularly rusty for her to use in her quilting pursuits.

Nana and I did complete one quilt together. There were a few very strictly enforced rules. First, the fabric scissors were not to be used on anything except fabric. Paper…. don’t even think about it. I will admit that I do not understand to this day how paper is likely to dull sharp metal scissors, but if and when I have fabric scissors of my own, they will only touch fabric. Second, you were not to look at, think about, or otherwise acknowledge the existence of the rotary cutter. That might be slight hyperbole, but while some kids grew up with the fear of god instilled in them, we grew up with the fear of the rotary cutter. Assurances were made that using the rotary cutter was a sure way to sever digits, or worse. We did however complete the striped quilt which is now centrally featured as the divider between the front and back of my van.

As we grew up, Nana encouraged us in everything that we did, but would always tell us when something was not quite proper. Whether it was not wearing a coat in the winter, skipping class to run errands for the robotics team, or moving into my van in a driveway, I’d always get an “Oh! Josh…”, followed by love and support even though I didn’t have the good sense to put on a jacket.

While many of my friends would see their grandparents once or twice a year, I have made more memories with Nana than I could possibly fit here, but here are a small sampling of other fond memories I have from growing up with Nana:

1. Cramming into the rear facing seats of the “Greenie Meanie” ford taurus after having Mexican food at Si Señor.

2. Nana taking us four cousins to run amuck during holidays at Safari Sam’s or sky high trampoline park(against the better judgement of medical professionals)

3. Nana trying to keep me from passing out on the white leather couches of the living room during my pre-dinner nap, or trying to keep me from falling asleep on the couch after dinner.

4. Watching Oregon Art Beat and Oregon Field Guide every Thursday after dinner.

5. Nana reading us the “Noddy” books before tucking us in for bed.

6. My friends meeting Nana and Grandad and informing me that they do in fact have a British accent. They just always sounded like Nana and Grandad to me.

7. Nana leading the Christmas pudding charge and getting real suet, all sorts of booze, and raisin like things galore.

8. Going to Hawaii for my eleven year old trip and enjoying playing in an actually warm ocean and stuffing myself with the all you can eat breakfast with Nana and Grandad.

9. Coming and sitting out on the porch on Elm avenue for tea during COVID to catch up with Nana and Grandad.

Not only did I create all of these wonderful memories with Nana, but she is also an example for me of someone who lived life to the fullest and found depth and meaning in so many aspects of life. Nana is an amazing artist, has a doctorate, is loyal to her friends, is a world traveler, is someone who cares deeply about those around her, a scrabble whiz, is the matriarch of an incredibly loving family, and played a huge role in helping me to become who I am.

Man, how lucky am I to have all of those memories and to have had my Nana growing up.

When we first told Mom that she was going to be a grandparent, she promptly announced that like all the women before her in her family, she would be known as Nana. And from that day onward, she has always been Nana to me.

She was a person of many interests: gardening, quilting, art, social and political causes, and more. But first and foremost, she cared most deeply about family. For three decades, Nana was the matriarch and the heart of our family, and my fondest memories of her are surrounded by the family she raised and cared for so deeply.

Nana and Grandad’s house in Beaverton was home base for our family for twenty years. Alex, Josh, Marcus, and Noah were regulars throughout their childhoods, and the house was always evolving as they grew up. The upstairs hallway was variously a tricycle racecourse, a sock skating rink, and a bowling alley until the boys grew large enough to be sent outside for their more rambunctious endeavors. The back yard held sandboxes, forts, and ball games (and occasionally quiet spaces for grownups to chat and enjoy the sunshine).

Holidays and vacations were always a big deal: we’d gather at Nana and Grandad’s house every year for Thanksgiving, and in the summer at Cannon Beach or Sunriver. Nana was always at the center of the festivities—organizing, cooking, and taking care of the whole family. Food was, of course, a big part of every get-together. Turkey, and Nana’s famous sausage meat stuffing, and most of all the infamous Christmas pudding.

Every year at Thanksgiving, Nana would gather the ingredients: nuts, dried fruit, and suet (don’t ask). Everyone had a job: some people would chop, and some would measure, and everyone would take a turn mixing. At the end, everyone would close their eyes, taste the pudding, and make a wish. Some people enjoyed eating the finished pudding and some didn’t, but everyone was part of the ritual of making it.

Time passed, and roles shifted. Thanksgiving was more frequently held in Seattle, and other people stepped up to do more of the cooking. The grandchildren enthusiastically took over the vital job of making the sausage meat stuffing. But always, Nana was at the center of it: supervising, chatting, and offering love and support to everyone in our growing family.

Eventually Nana and Grandad downsized to an apartment. Our house in Seattle became the new family hub, and our generation fully took over the role of organizing and coordinating the family. The details and traditions change with time, but it remains the family that Nana raised and loved.

I met Elizabeth at Thanksgiving in 2015, at her and Mike’s house in Beaverton. I was the newest member of the family and still figuring out how I fit in. From the start, it was clear that Elizabeth ran the show. She had planned all of the meals, done a good deal of the cooking ahead of time, and was constantly checking in on how people were doing, to the point of almost hovering. That was when I was first introduced to Christmas pudding, a lovely family tradition and, from my non-British perspective, a somewhat horrifying thing to eat. But I was included in the tradition just like everyone else, and got a spoon to stir the mixture, take a taste, and make a wish. It was a warm welcome into the Bambergers’ lives.

Elizabeth was also protective of her family, and especially of her grandchildren. It wasn't until she saw how much I cared for my stepsons, and how much they liked me, that she really accepted me.

As she and Mike aged, she started handing the reins to her sons. Matt and Martin took over the Thanksgiving meal planning and much of the cooking. They both inherited a strong caretaking streak from Elizabeth. She was clearly pleased with how well they filled in for her, and it was just as clearly hard for her to let go of being the one in charge. She still kept a close eye on everyone’s well-being and hadn’t yet kicked the hovering habit.

Over time, Matt and I became the hosts of family events, and Elizabeth settled into being the matriarch emeritus, watching the show rather than hovering over it and trying to direct it. While she never stopped offering to help, she did finally become comfortable sitting back and letting someone else bring her and Mike coffee at our Sunday brunches.

She was a model of how to accept aging and still enjoy life, and of how to accept help while still refusing to be a burden. Even as she became more limited, she pursued the things she loved doing, made new friends at Murano, and kept watch over everyone in the family, including me. As I spent more time with her, helping with doctors’ appointments and medications, she reminded me often to take care of myself. I think she saw some of herself in me, the next generation caring for everyone. I plan to follow her example and will keep watch over the family, while enjoying life as I do it.

Elizabeth has been a wonderful and constant presence throughout our lives, and I am so lucky to have grown up knowing her. When we were younger we would go down to Portland to visit regularly and always ended up staying with Nana in the guest bedroom, right next to her quilting room. We got to see all of her supplies and her beautiful quilts throughout her house and ours. Every visit she would make huge elaborate and delicious meals for us while we were there, my favorite among which was her wonderful recipe for sausage meat stuffing that she made every Thanksgiving. After Thanksgiving she also had us all partake in making a big batch of Christmas Pudding as a fun family ritual, and she always made sure we were well supplied with food for the drives back home. She also on several occasions brought the whole family down to Cannon Beach for day trips down by the shore.

Since moving to Seattle she has continued to be a bright, caring, and cheerful presence through our lives, with her proximity allowing us to see her much more often. She has continued to tell us all sorts of interesting stories and expose us to fun movies that are from before our time when she regularly invites us over to visit. Over the past year she has also been heading Murano’s drive to create and maintain a library and brought me in to help with that. It is always wonderful to spend time with her.

Elizabeth introduced us to one of my favorite recipes, sausagemeat stuffing. It’s an old family recipe now, even if it did come out of a cookbook at first. She maintained another food tradition as well, the Christmas puddings that we cooked at Thanksgiving and let sit for a month. For all that we poked fun at the flavor, I enjoyed getting together with the whole family for the ritual of making and mixing the pudding. Whenever it was time for us to leave and return home, we left with snacks for the trip back up, whether cookies, sandwiches, or bags of cereal. She brought us together and made sure that we never went hungry.

No matter how messy, complicated, or scary the rest of the world got, Nana was a steady, caring constant. I can’t say how much I’ve appreciated her over the years. Between her many travels and fascinating stories, she’s done so much to broaden my horizons. She and Grandad took me to Washington, D.C. on a wonderful trip where we crammed in as many museum visits as we possibly could. I tried out sewing because I’d seen her amazing quilts. I hope that I can continue living life with the good humor, patient determination, and curiosity that she always embodied.