Phyllis Haase -- In Memorium
Phyllis Haase -- December 3, 1923 - February 28, 2009
Please feel free to leave a remembrance of Mom by scrolling to the end of the page and posting a 'Comment'.
The following video of Mom's Memorial service, held March 21st, 2009 at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Poconos, is approximately 40 minutes long. I've been having difficulty uploaded the entire DVD, so will post an update here if I'm successful in adding back in the deleted parts. It starts with a blue screen and the volume is a bit low, but still audible in a quiet room. Please click on the > symbol inside the video screen to start it, and click on the rectangle with the upward/right arrow symbol below the screen to enlarge the video full-size.
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| Mom's Memorial |
Phyllis C. Haase, 85, of Stroudsburg, PA died Saturday, February 28, 2009 in Pocono Medical Center. Born in Washington, D.C., Phyllis was the daughter of the late George and Claire (Pratt) Warner and sister to the late Douglas and Daniel Warner. Phyllis began a radio career at age 6, playing a variety of children's parts, and became known as 'The Girl with a Hundred Curls'. She began co-hosting her own radio celebrity-interview program at age 12 for the 'Washington Post'. When a scheduled interview with First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt was canceled, Mrs. Roosevelt invited Phyllis and her mother to tea at the White House as compensation (see more at: http://phiggy.blogspot.com). Entering college at age 16, she put her education on hold shortly thereafter when she married the late Joseph Pritchard and gave birth to sons Douglas (who died at age 20 while serving in the Navy), Bruce and Albert. She continued her career in the Arts as a director of children's theater and subsequently taught drama, speech, English and creative writing in both private and public schools during the coming decades. Her second marriage to the late Alan Haase brought the birth of her fourth son, Norman. Returning to college in her 40's and 50's, Phyllis earned her Bachelor's and Master's degrees as well as being ABD (all but dissertation) for a Doctorate in Education. Organizations she contributed to with her time and energy, the hundreds of close friends made during her lifetime, and the warm embrace of her extensive family were her most cherished possessions. Survivors: She is survived by her sons Bruce Pritchard (his late wife Joyce) of Bainbridge Island, WA; Albert Pritchard and his wife Sharon of Stroudsburg, PA; Norman Haase and his wife Teresa of Allentown, PA; grandchildren Winter, Meadow, Courtney, Arlen, Allison, Allana and Sarah; and eight great-grandchildren (the last scheduled to arrive in April). Services: A memorial service will be held on Saturday, March 21st at 1:00 PM at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Poconos, 940A Ann Street, Stroudsburg, PA 18360. Light refreshments will be served and all are welcome to speak and share memories of Phyllis. The family wishes that contributions, in lieu of flowers, be made to the Fellowship directly, at 570-420-0580. Directions to the Fellowship are online at http://www.uupoconos.org/. Written remembrances of Phyllis are encouraged at http://phiggy.blogspot.com/2009/03/moms-passing.html. (this page)
I don't know if Mom ever heard this song, 'Fields of Gold' by Eva Cassidy, but it speaks to me of her. You might want to leave it playing as your scroll through the site.
Dear, Dear Phyllis:
So you have moved on to God's wider purposes for your wondrous life.
Such a lover of books we have rarely known. We can see them, still,
Phyllis, all over the E.Orange basement (never mind the Fire
Department...) and in your Stroudsburg hideaway, just a fraction of your
beloved across-the-decades library. Others of course took the point and
found themselves drawn to the wisdom and learnings of the ages because
of the song--literature--in your life. Anyway, here's a page from
Sandburg, and it is y o u , dear one:
The strong ones keep coming on.
They go down shot, hanged, sick, broken.
They live on fighting, singing, lucky as plungers.
Call hallelujah, call amen,
call deep thanks.
The strong ones keep coming on.
Yes, you do, Phyllis. Remember a Peace Laureate's saying, "We don't
know for sure whether words save lives, but we know for sure that
silence kills."? Your life breaks the silence. Whether at the Board of
Education, or on your bumper stickers, or among your friends and family,
you live on, "fighting, singing" even when times of infirmity come upon you.
CALL DEEP THANKS. You know, with Aquinas, that some have no anger
because they have no care for justice. How deep you drink of the well
that flows for love and justice.
Your calling forth the best from kids whom society counts least and puts
last: Some justice, good sister!
Your rejoicing in public life that widens embrace, resists exclusion:
O Phyllis, more justice!
Dare you to try to get this on your bumper sticker, but never mind,
here's you: We shall not rest until "decent citizens" and those strange
intruders who muddle the purity of our cultural spaces have extended
their arms to each other in joyful embrace... (Miroslav Volf)
It is sufficient, please God, that your students and grandchildren rise
up across the decades to CALL DEEP THANKS that you, dear friend, passed
their way to stand up to exclusionary "purity".
And now, soul sister to, who else?--Alice Walker, whose poetry you love,
this again is for you, and your loved ones can listen in--
While love is unfashionable
let us live
unfashionably...
Let us be poor
in all but truth and courage...
While love is dangerous
let us walk bareheaded
beside the Great River.
Let us gather blossoms
under fire.
Dear heart, with all your truth and courage, now go, go,
walk beside the Great River.
Maria and Frank Gibson
These photo groupings were sent to me by Bruce
Top row L-R: Mom & Bruce (we think!)
Mom, Doug, Albert, Bruce (Whiteside Rd. in Sandston VA)
Alan, Beatrice (Nana), Claire (Baba), Kurt (Pop Pop), Phyllis...Bruce, Doug, Albert (Hillier Street, East Orange, NJ)
Bottom row: Winter, Grandma in England
Mom graduating Bloomfield College (1967), Kurt on couch
Albert, Mom, Norman, Bruce
Top row L-R: Norman, George (Grossfather), Claire (Baba)...Albert, Doug, Bruce, Mom
Meadow, Grandma
Uncle Doug, Karin, Phyllis, Alan
Bottom row: Mom, pregnant with Norman
Kurt, Claire, Alan, Phyllis, Beatrice, George...Bruce, Albert, Doug (I missed this wedding)
Mom's baby picture...we think!
One of Mom's favorites. She named her two birds Luci, after Pavarotti. I love this early version of Nessun Dorma.
"Dear Norman and Teresa,
Your mother did indeed make a difference in many lives, including my own. I have many wonderful memories of the times we shared. She often said we were more like sisters than in-laws. Phyllis gave so generously of her time, talents and love to so many people and I feel blessed to have been one of them. She had a way of inspiring and affirming creativity in many realms, piquing intellectual thought and curiosity, deepening spiritual awareness and relating to people in all walks of life -- along with living life fully and having fun. I now envision her doing all of that with some dramatic monologues thrown in, in more celestial realms." Karin Warner
posted by Norman @ 8:17 PM
20 Comments:
One of my customers from Canada was kind enough to express his condolences, and to pass on these two poems, which I wanted to share:
Mother your life was full of loving deeds,
Forever thoughtful of our special needs,
Today and tomorrow, my whole life through,
I will always love and cherish you
Anon
******************************************
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
Mary Frye
The Far Field
I
I dream of journeys repeatedly:
Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel
Of driving alone, without luggage, out a long peninsula,
The road lined with snow-laden second growth,
A fine dry snow ticking the windshield,
Alternate snow and sleet, no on-coming traffic,
And no lights behind, in the blurred side-mirror,
The road changing from glazed tarface to a rubble of stone,
Ending at last in a hopeless sand-rut,
Where the car stalls,
Churning in a snowdrift
Until the headlights darken.
II
At the field's end, in the corner missed by the mower,
Where the turf drops off into a grass-hidden culvert,
Haunt of the cat-bird, nesting-place of the field-mouse,
Not too far away from the ever-changing flower-dump,
Among the tin cans, tires, rusted pipes, broken machinery, --
One learned of the eternal;
And in the shrunken face of a dead rat, eaten by rain and ground-beetles
(I found in lying among the rubble of an old coal bin)
And the tom-cat, caught near the pheasant-run,
Its entrails strewn over the half-grown flowers,
Blasted to death by the night watchman.
I suffered for young birds, for young rabbits caught in the mower,
My grief was not excessive.
For to come upon warblers in early May
Was to forget time and death:
How they filled the oriole's elm, a twittering restless cloud, all one morning,
And I watched and watched till my eyes blurred from the bird shapes, --
Cape May, Blackburnian, Cerulean, --
Moving, elusive as fish, fearless,
Hanging, bunched like young fruit, bending the end branches,
Still for a moment,
Then pitching away in half-flight,
Lighter than finches,
While the wrens bickered and sang in the half-green hedgerows,
And the flicker drummed from his dead tree in the chicken-yard.
-- Or to lie naked in sand,
In the silted shallows of a slow river,
Fingering a shell,
Thinking:
Once I was something like this, mindless,
Or perhaps with another mind, less peculiar;
Or to sink down to the hips in a mossy quagmire;
Or, with skinny knees, to sit astride a wet log,
Believing:
I'll return again,
As a snake or a raucous bird,
Or, with luck, as a lion.
I learned not to fear infinity,
The far field, the windy cliffs of forever,
The dying of time in the white light of tomorrow,
The wheel turning away from itself,
The sprawl of the wave,
The on-coming water.
III
The river turns on itself,
The tree retreats into its own shadow.
I feel a weightless change, a moving forward
As of water quickening before a narrowing channel
When banks converge, and the wide river whitens;
Or when two rivers combine, the blue glacial torrent
And the yellowish-green from the mountainy upland, --
At first a swift rippling between rocks,
Then a long running over flat stones
Before descending to the alluvial plane,
To the clay banks, and the wild grapes hanging from the elmtrees.
The slightly trembling water
Dropping a fine yellow silt where the sun stays;
And the crabs bask near the edge,
The weedy edge, alive with small snakes and bloodsuckers, --
I have come to a still, but not a deep center,
A point outside the glittering current;
My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,
At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,
My mind moves in more than one place,
In a country half-land, half-water.
I am renewed by death, thought of my death,
The dry scent of a dying garden in September,
The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air.
IV
The lost self changes,
Turning toward the sea,
A sea-shape turning around, --
An old man with his feet before the fire,
In robes of green, in garments of adieu.
A man faced with his own immensity
Wakes all the waves, all their loose wandering fire.
The murmur of the absolute, the why
Of being born falls on his naked ears.
His spirit moves like monumental wind
That gentles on a sunny blue plateau.
He is the end of things, the final man.
All finite things reveal infinitude:
The mountain with its singular bright shade
Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow,
The after-light upon ice-burdened pines;
Odor of basswood on a mountain-slope,
A scent beloved of bees;
Silence of water above a sunken tree :
The pure serene of memory in one man, --
A ripple widening from a single stone
Winding around the waters of the world.
^ Theodore Roethke
I know Phillis because she brought into this world my dear friend Norman, for me that would have been enough. I enjoyed too little time with her, a few days only. The ripple from those times brings me a sadness now. A sadness for our world that must go on without the amazing grace of Phyllis. She defined grace for me. I'm so happy for her now,as she continues her journey, no doubt illuminated by the brightest of lights.
Dearest Phyllis, I will always remember when my sister Jeannie and I acted in a play you directed. Jeannie decided to pack her vest with baby powder so that when she laughed and slapped herself, powder would spray everywhere. She and I choreographed a little number that involved her lifting me up and dropping me in one of the scenes. I put a whole surprise outfit on under the approved costume to peel down to for that scene. Sorry that we neglected to tell you about all of our secretive plans. What can I say? It must have been the influence of our mother, your dearest friend Rosilyn Wilder, who undoubtedly met you on the other side with all kind of theatrical plans.
You will be missed but never be considered absent -- you're with us always. love, Julie
My Special Phyllis Memory:
When I retired in 1998, one of the first trips I planned was to Stockbridge, Mass in my then new blue station wagon (which is now my old blue wagon) with Phyl. One task we were to accomplish was finding her family plot, which we did. Tears streamed down her face as we stood in the cold, windy cemetery in March 1998 when I found it (she didn't think we would locate it among the many headstones). We had lunch at the famous Red Lion Inn.
We also visited the home of her grandparents at my insistence (she didn't want to intrude but I convinced her it wasn't an intrusion and they could refuse our request). When we knocked on the door and explained why we were there, the current owner graciously gave us a tour of the remodeled farmhouse. It was one of the highlights of the trip. It was also a special entry in my memory bank.
We all have special memories...."Friends are the most important part of your life. Treasure the tears, treasure the laughter, but most importantly, treasure the memories."
Dave Brenner
I first met Phyllis when she came to help us with costumes and make-up for the Halloween Haunted House on Park Avenue in East Orange. I was the witch, and had back-brushed my already Janis-Joplin-like hair into a large, scary event. Phyllis walked in, took one look, and wanted to know where she too could get "the best fright wig she ever saw" !! How could you not love her? I have been honored to be an adjunct member of the family all of these years, and all of you are in my thoughts and prayers at this time, with much love.
When Arnie and I first moved to the Poconos, Phyllis was very welcoming. She introduced us to the Black Maria film shorts festival,to which she donated her time. She was generous with her time in other ways, too. She was a member of the League of Women Voters and conducted a writing course for the Elder Education group. She was kind enough to publish a little piece I wrote in her newsletter. She was a continuing presence in the book discussion groups. Her dramatic delivery of "Evermore" was memorable at the Poe session. Few people knew that Phyllis had game. She showed us a new form of solitaire and played some games with us while we were waiting for a movie at the Pocono Cinema. She will be missed.
Nancy and Arnie Lapidus
Dearest Phyllis,
You know how deep runs the current of our life connection - well past the corporal.
From the beginning, I always considered you and your family to be part of my family. And of course, the honor of being part of your children's theatre group is a treasure I will always hold in my heart.
I have, and will always love you.
Your daughter by extended family,
Jeannie
PS - for any who read this, who has not seen me or heard me sing in recent times, I've included my MySpace URL so I can catch you up a bit!
www.myspace.com/DevaVoiceStudios
Dearest Phyllis,
I struggle to find just the right words to express how much you have meant to me and how you will continue to touch my life.
I look to you as an example of how to live this life well. You're an inspiration, a force of pure love and compassion.
I have been blessed to have had the chance to have had you touch my life.
And even though you always flirted with Rick and always teased that you needed a kiss, I loved you all the more for it!!
May your beautiful spirit continue to light all our lives.
Your loving friend,
Barb Hammond
Hey Norman what a wonderful venue to share thoughts and memories. I was fortunate to share her dramatic talents on many occasions through the improvisations of the Mental Health Players. She showed up back in 1985 for open auditions being held in Montclair and was immediately befriended by all the others including myself. Her charm and grace and willingness to explore the improvisational work and her experience lended a stong quality of professionalism.I remember sharing books By Viola Spolin and other improv. teachers. She was an inspiration and a funny and gentle woman. She would always ask about the kids ....even before there was a connection to Winter and Boud.
To The Family of Phyllis Haase
There are people we meet through the course of our lives whose presence is truly exceptional. Phyllis was one of those people. Her quiet and penetrating intelligence, grace, love of literature were obvious to all who knew her. Her affection and devotion for her children and grandchildren came out in every conversation and sustained her throughout her life.
What really stands out about Phyllis is something so rare that I have seldom encountered it elsewhere. She was absolutely non-judgmental. Everyone she knew possessed a precious individuality she cherished like a jewel – a uniqueness she encouraged and appreciated in every meeting and conversation. This quality made her a great teacher, an exceptional parent, and a most cherished friend with whom it was so easy to share confidences. As a result, she inspired trust – a rare commodity in our bewildering world today. You simply wanted to deposit your gifts at her doorstep. I remember I showed her my poems that I had hidden from everyone else. She kept these poems for over thirty years until the time when she asked if I would like them back to put into my anthology. I thought I had lost them. They were in good hands.
The world would seem to be a darker place without Phyllis in it. But I like to think she is still making a connection with all of us, smiling and encouraging us to just be ourselves. I like to think she is with the other angels in the next advanced dimension of light and song, flying around and enjoying the production!
With deepest sympathy to all of you,
Linda Schurman
I was fortunate to attend a Circle Supper in January of 2005 where Phyllis was also in attendance. A Circle Supper is a UU social gathering where everyone attending brings a part of the meal. After dinner, Phyllis shared with us her early days in radio and the privildge she had of having tea with Eleanor Roosevelt. I was amazed that I was in the company of such an accomplished woman. She was very kind and entertaining. I also want to thank her for her ongoing work in bringing the Black Maria
film festival to the Pocono area and in having the UU be its sole sponsor. We will miss your beautiful white hair and that mischievous twinkle in your eye!
I have no poetry or great pictures to post, but I do have a host of memories. As a child I was in and out of the Haase house seemingly fifty times a day. Though a year younger, Norman and I played together all the time. I remember Mrs. Haase as being so loving to me (hey, I was a girl and she had all those boys!) and accepting of me. In my mind's eye I see her beautiful smiling face. She laughed a lot, or at least I remember her to be a person who knew how to enjoy her life. One time my brother failed to turn the oven off and instead accidentally turned it to broil. The fire engines appeared and I was whisked off to the Haase's where a terrified me was loved on by Mrs. Haase. She gently calmed me, fed me a good spaghetti dinner and all was well. (Calming me was no easy feat as my greatest fear was fire.) She was an inspiration as well. As a kid I thought it was so cool that she was going to college-a reminder at this time in my life that we are never too old to pursue our dreams. Thank you for that Mrs. Haase.
John and I first met Phyllis when he was right out of college and teaching at the Rutledge Ave. School in East Orange. I remember many evenings spent with friends from the school at her house in Gle Ridge. Everyone was always welcome - such a comfortable atmosphere (Norman was a precocious teenager at the time.) Over the years we stayed in touch, if only via Christmas cards. I am thankful that in recent years we saw more of her, after she facilitated bringing the Black Maria Film Festival to Stroudsburg (that was so like her - always making connections and advocating for the arts.) We will miss her gentleness, her warmth, her tolerance, her inclusiveness. She was always accepting and always loving, a generous creative spirit.
In loving memory,
Ellen Columbus
Phyllis was a great role model. She taught us all how to have an amicable divorce and how easy and advantageous it can be to befriend "the second wife". Jealousy was not in her vocabulary. As Linda Shurman said, she was non-judgmental.
She was also a great mother. She accepted all behavior her children and grandchildren exhibited with unconditional love.
I will miss her very much.
Deb Acquaviva
Phyllis,
Thanks for the fun we had in the Writer's Group, for your endless optimism, for you continuous encouragement, your intelligence,
your beautiful spirit...I believe people such as you are connections, strung one to the next, leading us to meaning, leading us to Source...
Here is the poem for you, read at the memorial service:
"This is your poem, Phyllis,
written in the voices of those
so close to you.
It is crafted upon the pages
of our sharing.
It is written
in this room, today,
with kindness
and a gentle, patience.
All these words,
the laughter, the tears,
the hugs, the kisses...
are your poem...
A composition of love
offered with blessings,
to you,
our Dear, Author.
All the Best, friend,
Jim Elsaesser
I spent Monday, February 16, with my dear friend, Phyllis watching a movie with her. It was a pleasant 3 hours with little conversation, good friends can enjoy each other's company without talking. We had tea and cookies. I left her apartment with a good feeling having spent that time with her. Each day I thought about her and how much it meant to me to be priviledged to have her as a friend.
I will remember my day with Phyllis with fond memories that are very precious to me.
Mary Jane Walter
"Some of us knew Phyllis not only as a Unitarian, but also as a member of this group, which formed after the beginning of the war on Iraq, 6 years ago. We had originally noticed each other at various marches and anti-war vigils which preceded the war, and incorporated as a non-profit in 2003. Phyllis supported our principles and actions, attended our meetings, and wrote letters to the local newspaper. Our fondest memories of her were at our many events we held at the Pocono Cinema, now the Pocono Community Theater, which let us use their space on Saturday afternoons to present videos and speakers with a liberal point-of-view. She would staff a table near the entrance and watch over the donation jar while obtaining contact information from the attendees. We are grateful that she lived to see the ascendancy of an administration which embodies many of the ideals we and she worked to educate the community about. Thank you."
Written by Anne Tiracchia on behalf of the Pocono Progressives, this was read at Mom's memorial service by Mark Lichty (uploaded to this website by Norman Haase).
Anne also said: "I don't know if you want to add the names of the older members who knew her: Ellen Bell and Phil Reiss, also U-Us, Mark Lichty, Cindy Crowner, Julie Weber, Sue Lyons, Kathy Howe, Ann Francois, Silvia Brandon-Perez, and Jerilyn DePete who preceded her in death."
I am so sorry to learn of Phyllis' death! I met her through AATE (The American Alliance for Theatre and Education) in the late 80's. She became a "surrogate grandma" to my son, holding him in her NYC hotel room at the AATE conference when he was 2 months old (in 1996). We have tried to get to the Poconos to see her yearly since then. I think her last long excursion was in 2003 when she drove to Princeton for my husband's and my 10th wedding anniversary. She'd been at our wedding and it was very fitting and proper that she join us as we renewed our wedding vows. I have a very warm place in my heart for Phyllis because she had an enormous heart that was big enough to fit our family of three into it in addition to all of her family and friends. I love you Phyllis. Thank you for loving us and for coming out to dinner with us last fall when we came to visit!
Norman,
I would like to extend my condolences to you and your family on your mom's passing. I met Phyllis in 1976 when I was assigned to student teach drama in East Orange. She was my cooperating teacher, and she was so loving and caring toward the students as she was in every aspect of her life. Others have already spoken of her nonjudmental, supportive, generous,and curious nature. She really was an inspiration to me, and I will miss her.
Jean Potters
Post a Comment
Please feel free to leave a remembrance of Phyllis by clicking on the 'Comments' icon, which looks like an envelope and pencil, or directly in the box at the bottom of the 'Phyllis Haase -- In Memorium'page (the prefered method, as comments will automatically show on that page). If you wish to post a photograph as well, please email it to me at stonebri@sprynet.com, and I'd be happy to put it up.
Also, where it says 'Comment As', please select 'Name/URL' from the drop-down box and enter your name (URL isn't needed).
Norman
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