One woman long admired in my family was Edna Stoler McNaull. Born in 1900, Edna had grown up in the era of true community spirit when neighbors relied on one another to accomplish all of life’s needs.
My family was so lucky to have been a part of her community. My dad spoke of Edna McNaull with a child’s wonder. “She could recite the longest poems and stories without a single note, and keep us hanging on every word,” he said.
I knew practically from birth that Edna was special to my family. I visited her, along with my mother, on the McNaull farm and later in a small duplex she shared with her daughter in town. I knew that my dear great-Grandpa Charlie had a soft place in his heart for this dear lady, as they had been neighbors during the hard years of threshing when neighbors all helped one another. He often said she was the best cook and baker in the community.
About a year ago, my mother gave me an old letter written by Edna, addressed to my parents. This long, hand-written letter brings to life a wonderful figure adored by my Dad.
Written in 1987, Edna noted how much she enjoyed my mother’s cards, pictures and interesting letters written over the years. “This letter in return is long overdue, because you have been so generous in writing to me. I enjoy reading each one now as I did on the day each arrived in my mailbox,” she wrote.
“One thing I’ve always wanted to say to you, Stanley, is that your mother Helen was such a fine and lovely person and such a sweet little girl.” She notes that she was the teacher in the one-room schoolhouse for the Eckley community, and had enjoyed teaching little Helen very much.
“But I had the pleasure of knowing your mother in more ways than just as her teacher. When I was first married, January 1920, and suddenly no longer teaching, the Myers family lived just across the road. Helen came over so often to see me and I just loved her. She told me she wanted to be a teacher when she was grown. Your mother was a delightful little lady, always kind and smiling. And her father, your Grand-Pa, Charlie, was just someone special.
“One time, while threshing at our place, we lived on the bigger McNaull farm by then, there was a break on the machine and work was stopped. My son, Junior, just a little fellow, came in the house and wanted a piece of pie for Mr. Myers and would have it no other way. So I fixed a piece of pie to take out to him. Charlie never forgot it!”
Reading this letter is like holding a moment in time. My dad’s maternal side, because dad’s mother Helen died so young, never had the chance to grow with us. It is a treasure to hear stories of the grandmother that we never got to know, and even more special that this dear lady took the time to write this to my father.
Edna’s words of admiration held weight and healing. “I thought you or your girls would like to hear my devotion to such a special family,” Edna wrote.
“Am writing this to you on the table I started house-keeping with 67 years ago this month,” she notes in closing.
On the envelope, my mother had written “save, give this letter to DoBee,” my nickname since birth. It had been tucked away with important papers for safekeeping.
There is no sweeter gift than this. I will treasure it always.
