Eulogy for ADELAIDE DODGE NILES
Given by daughter Kathleen Bryce Niles at St. Lucy’s RC Church
Syracuse, New York
My mother was an ordinary woman who sometimes did extra-ordinary things.
First and foremost, she was a Dodge. In our family, whether you were a Dodge, a Gordon or a Niles, you were a Dodge. The implication of being a Dodge meant that you were ingrained with Grandpa’s Rules that were, gratefully, tempered by Grandma’s sanity in the face of having to co-exist with others on this planet.
My cousin, Dave Gordon, will undoubtedly tell you about the strength of the Dodge women, so I will simply tell you some specifics that will highlight the myriad things my mother taught me.
I learned very early that what went on in the house stayed in the house. This was a tremendous mystery to both my father and me because nothing ever went on in our house that couldn’t be put in the Herald Journal. But that was a Dodge rule and one that had best not be broken.
I learned that family was the most important thing in life. Everything else must take a back seat and stay there as long as family needed you.
While I was born an only child, I learned quickly that to Little Harry, Donnie and Sue I was the older sister and the protector. And, God help me if I failed in that duty.
And, to Barbara, Roberta, David and Judy, I was the baby Gordon. It was their job to tolerate my foolishness and to make certain that I was kept safe or there would be hell to pay.
Because my mother and my aunt were the two girls of nine children, there was no chance that I would be allowed the luxury of being an only child.
I learned that you can have knockdown dragged out fights with your cousins but no matter how big a jerk you are or they are that they are family … .and nobody … ..and I mean nobody outside the family better say the same things you say about each other.
and right or wrong to the outside world you stand toe to toe with them in public … then, when you are alone, you take up your grievances in private … .
and I learned you had better resolve them or you had to deal with the aunts and uncles. They knew the Dodge Rules all too well. They lived them exactly.
The nine of them were one when outsiders were present, and that could have even meant spouses, but everyone of them would, could, and did get in each other’s faces if they thought the brother or sister needed it.
I learned that if you took a job, you did the job to the best of your ability. My mother took a job at Easy Washer during the war. She made bullets. She worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. She earned one hundred dollars a week. That was in 1941.
Thus, it came to pass that when I awoke one winter morning with the tell-tale red streak across my forehead, mom said, “I think you have measles. Go directly to the school nurse. If you have them come home. If you don’t have them, stay in school.”
And, so with measles, chicken pox, chronic bronchitis and pneumonia, I missed fewer days of public school in thirteen years than most students miss in six months today. Mother did not look kindly on malingering.
I learned that if there was work to be done and there was no money to hire out, you did it yourself! My father lacked those genes that determine whether one is handy around the house. My mother had them all.
It was she and my father’s seventy-five year old mother who climbed the ladder and put a roof on the garage in East Syracuse. It was she who painted, papered, hammered and sawed. It was she who worked with virtually no money at all to make a beautiful home.
I believe that for the 43 years she was married that she did all that she did on less money in a year than the average Cambodian family makes in two weeks. She was a remarkable homemaker.
I learned that when people come to your house unannounced at dinner time that you had best lose your appetite fast because the first thing you do when someone comes through your door is offer them food and drink.
I learned that even if you have to meld slivers of soap together, you can and will be clean.
I learned that when a visitor came to the house that when you are 80 years old and find out that your guest has Aids that you respond by saying, “So what, if people don’t like it, they don’t have to come to your house.”
And, I learned it is okay to get married but you shouldn’t do it in college. And, I learned it is okay to get divorced but it is not necessary to ever discuss it again.
I learned that discretion is the better part of valour. But if there was a war to be fought, one had better get in the battle and show that he or she was a Dodge.
Before my father was shipped out to the Pacific theatre, mom went to stay with him in Florida. She was smart enough to allow inquiring minds to believe he was Hispanic and not West Indian.
But she was also intrepid enough to march to the back of a bus in Tampa and take the seat she had selected for herself. And, when the driver slammed on the brakes and stormed to the back to inform her that she could not sit there because it was for “Coloureds” only, she told him in no uncertain terms that she had paid her money and would sit where she damn well pleased. That was in The South in 1942.
I learned that if you were born a Dodge without a sense of humour that your life was virtually over.
My mother was one of the wittiest people God ever created. She could make you laugh with imitations and no one was safe from her impressions of something really stupid they did.
One of my friends who is a nun once stated that Addie could tell the raunchiest joke and it was as if they passed right through her and never touched her. Telling dirty jokes to nuns kind of gives you the clue about mom, doesn’t it.
I learned to trust my instincts. My mother had five brothers and my father in WWII. Instinctively, she knew they would all come home safely. They did.
Mom was better than any psychic … Far too often mom predicted things that were going to happen or had happened without her being told. I remember the day she announced that Joe Luteran had died. We told her she must have had a bad dream. About an hour later, we got the call that Joe had indeed passed on.
Her abilities to do this kind of stuff wasn’t always easy to live with … it ultimately caused me to change planes and to change routes for trips. But I learned early on to trust those instincts of hers.
If we had been a more sophisticated family, we could have put her on stage and made a fortune.
One of the reasons I love watching John Edwards today is that mom made a believer out of me. My cousin Sue Dodge and I are waiting for tickets. We know that if my mom or Uncle Harry can’t get through, sure as the sun comes up, Aunt Fran will organize all the forces of heaven to make sure they do.
I learned from my mother’s 75 year old lips that she brought me into this world and she could still take me out. Though none of them ever wanted to admit it, there was a lot of Charlie Dodge in every one of them.
I learned when my father died that if you have done everything you can to be the best partner you can be that you do not need to mourn excessively because all your memories are joyful.
I was foolish enough to spend my first 42 years believing that if something happened to my father that my mother would fall apart. It was she who held me together.
It was she who declared that dad died as he wanted to and that he had a great life and that it was time to move on. So much for fragility.
I learned from watching my mother take care of both of my grandmothers what it means to do your best for the people who bring you into this life.
And, for eight years of Alzheimers, she was able to stay to home because she had instilled in me that that was the right thing to do.
I was told over and over by professionals that they didn’t know how it was being done … but as difficult as it was from minute to minute and hour to hour, it was easy because I know she would have done the same for me.
My mother had a wonderful life. She had an excellent marriage. She was an outstanding mother. She has earned the respect of all who knew her and she more than earned the rest that God gives her now.
And, the last thing I learned was from both my parents. And, that is that I am the luckiest kid in the world. Thanks, Mom, for everything you taught me.
OBITUARY
Adelaide L. Niles, 85, of East Amherst, NY died on August 12, 2003. A life-long resident of Central New York, she relocated in 2002. She was the daughter of Charles Anson Dodge of Cazenovia and Adelaide McCabe Dodge of Auburn. A graduate of Roosevelt Jr. High, in her youth, Addie did hairdressing. She worked seven days a week, ten hours a day, at Easy Washer during WWII, for the war effort. An outstanding wife and mother, Addie leaves a legacy of industry and integrity. In 1942, Addie married Nesbit B. Niles who died in 1985. Excellent singers, they made beautiful music together for 43 years. Additionally, Adelaide was predeceased by her brothers: William A., C. Edgar, Earl K., Carleton J., Harry M., and Paul A. Dodge, and her sister, Frances M. Gordon. Addie is survived by a daughter, Kathleen Bryce of E. Amherst and her brother, Ralph Ned Dodge of E. Syracuse; and many, many nieces, nephews, godchildren and friends. A Memorial Mass will be held at St. Lucy’s Roman Catholic Church in Syracuse at 11 a.m. on Saturday, August 23, 2003 to be followed by a luncheon in the Parish Hall. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to any of the following: Alzheimer’s Association, Syracuse YMCA, St. Lucy’s Food Pantry or Calvary Episcopal Church Music Ministry, 20 Milton Ave., Williamsville, NY 14221.