Nettie Jane Stowers Eulogy

During this time after Nettie’s passing, we have all reconstructed in our minds and hearts our associations with her. We have reflected on the influence she has had on our lives and the love we shared with her. I am grateful and honored to have this privilege to reflect publicly.

Nettie blessed her posterity with her life story, not only lived out to its fullest but recorded by her own hand. It is there for us to keep and review. My remarks will include just a sampling of that history—some of it in her own words, together with a smattering of others’ perception of her life—some of which she knew about but was too modest to record.

The Machens, of pioneer heritage, lived in the community of Burton, close to Rexburg in eastern Idaho. Nettie Jane Machen, named after her mother’s sisters Net and Jane, was born in 1912. Father Harry Redfearn Machen and Mother Evalyn McMillan were married on New Year’s Day 1901, the first day of the 20th century. Of eight children, Nettie was the only daughter. Her seven brothers were Harry, Willie, Millan, Ryland, Neal, Lee, and Mac. Mac is the only surviving sibling of that noble generation, and we are thrilled that he has made the long journey from Kentucky to be with us today. Nettie always referred to Mac by his given name, Grieve. Until I was an adult, I never realized that Uncle Mac, whom I knew, was Grandma’s brother Grieve.

Many of Nettie’s great memories of childhood and later were formed in the home her father built for the family. She described the home as if it was an old friend. She wrote: “With the family growing in size and number, the little log house on the farm in the valley was soon outgrown and in 1918 a new rock home was built to replace it. What a delight to watch the progress--first a large hole was scraped out, then the cement walls and floor for a full basement were poured. Soft, grayish-white rock was hauled from Blackburn's Quarry at Sunny Dell. Hard granite rock for trim was quarried out of a rocky hollow east of Rexburg. Masons cut it into slabs and soon the walls were rising for a beautiful, comfortable home. On the main floor were a living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and hall, plus porches, front and back. Mother had never liked upstairs bedrooms, so downstairs were three bedrooms for the children and a large fruit cellar. Even though electricity was not then available in the rural districts, Father had the whole house wired. Probably the thing that brought the greatest joy to Mother was the running water, hot and cold, in her kitchen and bathroom.”

There is a song from a play Nettie saw years ago that lyricizes: “When you’re taking a bath on a Saturday night, the family’s only daughter, you can sit and soak up to your ears and not in sixth hand water.” Nettie had some of that pampering. She got her own bedroom; she got her brothers’ protection; and she got the newborn colt. But being the only daughter also had its burdens.

The acreage her father farmed in Burton was not big enough to support the growing family, so he also farmed in the rolling hills above Rexburg—the dry farm. After her brother Harry married, he took over the management of the dry farm. When Nettie was 11 years old, her father could not find a cook for the harvest crew on the dry farm. Her mother was expecting, so she could not go. Young Nettie volunteered. Although her mother and father were hesitant, it soon became clear Nettie was their only option. Her father stayed at the dry farm for two days to coach her, but then had to leave. Nettie described her experience:

“Well, in a couple of days the bread ran out, and I realized that, though I had watched Mother mix bread through the years and knew the ingredients, I wasn't at all sure of amounts. So I hurried over to Uncle Jack Palmer's farm to ask Mrs. Edith Clark, their cook, how much of each ingredient to use, then went home and proceeded to mix my first batch of bread. It didn't raise like Mother's always did, but I struggled and finally took four loaves out of the oven. And what loaves--they were squatty and hard and heavy. I think you could have knocked a horse down with one of them.

“So that left us without bread for supper. Harry told me how to make baking powder biscuits, but when he came in to help get supper on the table he said there weren't enough biscuits and he would stir up another batch quick like.
“Well, in came the men, hungry as usual. When they had finished off my batch of biscuits, we brought Harry's to the table. After the first bite, my cousin Ray George said, ‘Nettie, why did you serve the best biscuits first?’ Talk about beginner's luck! And Harry about chased him out of the house.

“Needless to say, I had learned a good lesson in bread making, and the next day my bread looked and tasted more like Mother's always did.”

Nettie’s love for flowers bloomed during the summers in those rolling hills of eastern Idaho. She picked blue bells, honeysuckle, Larkspur, yellow violets, wild roses, and sego lilies and arranged them neatly in tin cans. Through the years, she grew many varieties of flowers and enjoyed sharing them. Her yard was her sanctuary, where she could sink her hands into the soil and make beautiful things appear. She was so frustrated when people would steal the flowers she had carefully grown, but, if they asked, she would gladly give the same flowers away to brighten a day. She provided flowers for weddings, condolences, parties, and other special occasions, but she was perhaps best known for her immaculate arrangements of fresh flowers that adorned the chapel on Sunday for ward meetings and stake conferences. The ward members knew when Nettie was out of town by the absence of flowers at the pulpit. Many of her descendants have inherited this love for plants and flowers and this ability to beautify their surroundings.

Nettie received her first church assignment when she was 14 years old, as secretary of the Primary. On the occasion of this calling, her father impressed upon her the importance of diligence and duty. He told her: “Now Nettie, you have been given a responsibility and you have a job to do. If you shirk, the work will not be done, as it is no one else’s responsibility. It is yours.” Nettie later commented: “It was more than advice he gave me that day. It was a principle he lived in all facets of his life. And I have tried to fulfill my callings in life as he did his.”

Also when Nettie was 14 years old, Bob Stowers showed up in Burton and went to work for Harry on the dry farm. One day, Bob joined Nettie and her brothers for a game of baseball on the front lawn. Nettie recalled: “At one point [Bob] threw a ball to me at home plate and I caught it on the end of a finger. It hurt like mad, but I wouldn’t let him see that it did. You see, I already had a crush.” Bob left to work other places, but returned several times over the years, ostensibly to see Nettie’s brothers or to find work in the area. Nettie graduated from Madison High School and went on to Ricks College to become a teacher. Although Bob had proposed marriage, she persisted in her education. Because of the failing economy, however, it became increasingly difficult for Nettie’s parents to support her. She wrote: “I realized that further education for me would work a great financial hardship on Father and Mother. And to be right honest about it all, I guess I wanted to marry Bob more than I wanted to get my credentials and become a school teacher. So, on April 10, 1932, when he again asked me to marry him, I said, ‘Yes.’”

Bob and Nettie were married in the Salt Lake Temple on September 22, 1932, in the midst of the Depression. Their marriage was blessed with three children: Robert Wallace, Ronetta Jean, and Richard Harry. They moved many times in search of employment opportunities during those difficult times. When World War II broke out, Bob went to California to find work in the shipyards. Nettie and the children soon followed, and, except for a brief period in Salt Lake City, Nettie has lived in California ever since.

In 1946, Bob took Nettie to see a house on Parker Avenue in Sacramento. Nettie’s first reaction was, “Do you think we need one this big?” But they bought the big house, and it has been the locus of fond memories for three generations of their descendants since then.

Bob, Ronetta, and Dick grew to adulthood and married. Nettie grew to love Faith, Wally, and Evelyn as if they were her own children, and that love was amply reciprocated. In the 1960s, Bob and Nettie began what became a tradition with the older grandchildren. Each New Year’s Eve, the grandchildren would go to Grandma and Grandpa’s for an overnighter. We played games, ate treats, and celebrated the new year. Grandma had a heavy glass container in the dining room with hard candy in it. While I am sure some of the grandchildren mastered the art of opening and closing that container without making a noise, some of us invariably clanged the lid against the bottom of the container. It rang out like a bell which Grandma could hear from just about anywhere in that big house. To all of her grandchildren, older and younger, Nettie was everything you could imagine a wonderful grandmother to be. She would put her own life on hold to be there for us, even though it sometimes meant travel and hardship.

Bob and Nettie celebrated their golden wedding anniversary in 1982 with a reception in their honor. Nettie recorded: “Many said that was the nicest party they had ever attended—the whole afternoon so friendly and informal, and we thought so, too. Our family did us proud.”

Bob’s health failed and, in 1994, he was near death. Nettie’s life story recounts:

“[Bob] seemed in no pain, not even the headaches that had plagued him almost his entire lifetime, and we were grateful for that respite at least. I sat with him for a long time during the afternoon and evening of Tuesday, November 22nd. I was reluctant to leave, but he seemed to be resting so peacefully, and Ronetta said, ‘Mom, you=d better go home and get some rest.’

“Bob slipped away from us early in the morning of November 23rd, 1994, at the age of 86 years. He had been a good son, brother, husband and father. And he was dearly loved by his grandchildren and great-grandchildren as well.

“So life goes on for me - not the give and take of the 62 years we spent together. There is loneliness, but so many happy memories, and the assurance that one day - after I have accomplished the things the Lord would have me do - we will be together once more.”

This matter-of-fact faith, nothing doubting, was typical of Nettie’s life. Even when there was plenty to worry or complain about, she believed in the broader picture of eternal life provided by her Savior. Her actions spoke louder than the most eloquent words.

Nettie was unapologetically pious in her personal comportment. While she held definite opinions concerning propriety, she reached out with love to those around her, forming relationships of friendship and respect with neighbors and acquaintances of many backgrounds and ideologies.
Until she was 50 years old, most of Nettie’s adult church service, except for an interlude as Relief Society President, focused on the youth. She led both ward and stake youth groups, girls’ camp, dance festivals, and every kind of enriching activity for the younger generation. She taught them to distinguish good from bad and to choose right over wrong. In her middle age, however, her focus turned to the adult women, leading them in theology lessons and helping them beautify their homes and relationships.

When Nettie was 81 years old, she was asked to return to her work with the youth—this time girls 14 and 15 years old. You can imagine her raised eyebrows at some of their revealing fashions, coarse language, and nontraditional attitudes. Yet, in her life story she wrote not about judgment or disdain but love and understanding of this precious generation of teenagers.

On Nettie’s 85th birthday, she attended a celebration in her honor at Ronetta’s home. During the evening, the doorbell rang, and Nettie was invited to the front door. There she found Dick who had traveled 700 miles to be with her for a few hours on her birthday. Though Dick has lived so many miles away, Nettie always appreciated his phone calls and concern for her welfare.

From a very young age, Nettie attended large family reunions—the Machens, the McMillans, and later the Stowers. In her life story she documented those occasions with precision and affection. Bob and Nettie spent many vacations traveling to, participating in, and traveling from these reunions. In all, they visited 41 states and the District of Columbia.

In 1973, they prepared for a trip cross-country by car in the summer heat to the Stowers reunion in Virginia. The day before they left, their son Bob turned his brand new Ford LTD station wagon over to them for the trip. Nettie remembered: “We had never traveled in such style, nor enjoyed a trip more. It was hard to believe the air conditioning could make such a difference!” They put 7,026 miles on the new car. Nettie was grateful for son Bob’s generosity then and throughout the years.

Family reunions may have been Nettie’s most cherished earthly activity, renewing the loving bonds of close family and meeting relatives previously unmet. It is then easy to imagine the unreserved joy Nettie felt Thursday night as she stepped through that veil—her beloved Bob, cherished Mother and Father, honored Brothers, other friends and relatives. Their reunion was real because the spirit holds the personality and memory, the friendships and love. That family reunion, for her, was joyful beyond compare, having every happy element of a grand family reunion except the potato salad.

Four years ago, Nettie had a stroke. Although she slipped into the twilight of this life, she did not yet move on to the dawn of the next life. Stranded in mortality, she could communicate little. Though frustrated and often low, Nettie persevered. A verse from the hymn, How Firm a Foundation, applies well to these last few years of Nettie’s life:

“When through the deep waters I call thee to go“The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow“For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,“And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.”

As did Bob before his passing, Nettie went to Ronetta’s home where she received loving care and comfort. As often happens, the service she received enriched and humbled those who gave it.

Death released her to peace on January 20, 2005.

May her memory and example continue to bless us as we strive to perpetuate her legacy of virtuous life.