Anderson Funeral Home
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Augusta, WI 54722
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Lola May Kilness Englesby
Our mother, Lola May Kilness Englesby, died on February 5, 2020, at the age of 101 years and 5 months at the Augusta Health & Rehabilitation nursing home, in Augusta, Wisconsin. When she was born in September, 1918, WWI would still rage for another two months (Lola would tell the story that her father, Ole Kilness, went to join up one day but was turned away, as "the war to end all wars" had ended), the Spanish flu pandemic was killing millions worldwide, and cars, airplanes and radio were still in early stages of development. Horses pulling wagons and farm implements was still the norm, certainly in rural, west-central, Buffalo County, Wisconsin, where Lola May was born and raised. A hundred years ago, the world was almost a completely different place. In her later years, Lola had great difficulty accepting and even just contemplating all the modern -- and simply miraculous to her -- technological devices we have nowadays; she came from a different time, indeed. (Mom did learn years after her retirement to send and receive e-mails, as well as to handle attachments with music or greeting cards and the like, but that was it.
Her first name was really Lola, but she often went by Lola Mae, with that spelling, as well. Friends often called her Lola May/Mae, as well as just Lola. Her parents were Ole Kilness and Katherine (Katrina in Norwegian) Molland Kilness. Her mother's father, Johannes (John) Molland, became an officer serving from Wisconsin in the Union "Grand Army of the Republic" during the Civil War. Both sides of her family came to Wisconsin in Norwegian immigrations from the mid-1850s, starting with Johannes Molland, into the 1880s.
Lola sometimes spoke about her Uncle John Kilness, who was not as lucky as his brother Ole in escaping service in war for our country. John was a soldier in the Philippine Insurrection that followed America's victory over Spain in the Spanish-American War, 1898 - 99. When the United States took over the Philippines from Spain, the Filipinos simply transferred their fight for independence from the Spanish to the Americans when it became evident that the US meant to control their country. It was a short, but terrible, bloody little war with horrific atrocities committed by both sides. Lola would relate how the experience affected her Uncle John: She recalls as a little girl seeing him often driving his Model T past her father's farm on to the small town of Independence, where he would visit the taverns, finding solace in alcohol. He likely had what we call PTSD these days.
Mom had four siblings, all deceased, beginning with the birth of her eldest sister Margaret in 1912, followed by Lillian in 1914, then, in 1916, came her only brother Lloyd, and, finally, in 1923, her younger sister, Miranda. Lola was born after Lloyd in 1918. Lloyd kept the family farm along with his wife, Virginia Rudy Kilness -- a young woman who had grown up in the same rural, Dover Township, area -- and it later was designated a Wisconsin Century Farm in August, 2012, under the name Shady Knoll Guernsey Farm. At that time, the farm had been in the family 104 years. The family still owns the farm and rents out the land under the management of Kirsten Kilness Heck, Lloyd and Virginia's youngest daughter, and Kirsten's son, Russell Heck. The original, 19th century farm house was razed fifty or more years ago to build a modern house. Lola was the last surviving member of her immediate family of siblings and in-laws.
She was born, with a midwife attending, on September, 4, 1918 (the same birth date, incidentally, as her father in 1881), at her parents' farm house in Dover Township, Buffalo County, Wisconsin, not far from the small towns of Independence, Mondovi, and Gilmanton and very near to the even far smaller, unincorporated little hamlet of Lookout with a population always of under 20. She was a true child of the Depression, the embodiment of the stereotype of someone who was raised to be and always was extremely thrifty, constantly saving and using sparingly against likely times of want. She really was one of those Depression-era kids who did walk miles through freezing wintertime cold and snow to catch the bus to school, she said, at a spot where she'd save a nickel or a dime, rather than catching it earlier, causing if not frost bite to her feet, the chilblains that bothered her the rest of her life. Even on a farm, they were often so poor that there was nothing to take for a lunch at school, so she'd mix some flour and water or milk, she would say, together with a little flavoring from something to make a kind of pudding, so there'd be something to put in her stomach. Her attention to saving and wise use served her and her future family well in lean times, and she saved and invested prudently and diligently for years in order to provide for her personal care in her advanced old age, first in her own home as long as possible, until July, 2017, when she had to move to the local nursing home, Augusta Health & Rehabilitation, in Augusta, WI.
Mom told sometimes of a significant illness she suffered as small child. When she was three or four, she had an intestinal disorder or disease that kept her penned up, literally, in a crib-like enclosure in the home. She was weak and very sick. She recalls that a doctor would periodically drive out from Independence to treat her and give her some sort of medicine. She did recover, but it took a long time, and after she was better, she remembers having to learn to walk again after all the time she was restrained and inactive. The children's mother Katherine was often sickly, as well, as the kids grew up, and the two older daughters, Margaret and Lillian, would alternate taking days off from school in order to care for her. (Author's note: Mom also told me only a few years ago about, perhaps, another illness she may have had even as a child. She told me that after she became, essentially, confined to her home owing to old age, requiring 24-hour care, just going outside with the help of her caregivers to go to appointments or to try taking an outing was very difficult, apart from the physical effort alone, and disturbing for her. She tried to explain to me how she felt, but even that was hard for her to express and for me to understand. But what I think she meant is that, outside, she couldn't tell, feel, determine, or sense where she was in the world and the 'space' all around her. Some of that odd, ill-defined sensation could have resulted, certainly, from all the time she had had to spend inside recently, but I think that it may have been, perhaps, more than that. She also told me that as a young child, she experienced the same sensation, and she told as an example of when and how it arose, something, as I recall, about her being on the roof a building on the farm, long ago, and feeling the same about being 'lost in the world', I'll describe it now, outside. Maybe this could have been just a fear of heights, I know, but she didn't describe it that way. Maybe, I'm thinking, she had a tendency to agoraphobia or some similar mental disorder. If that's the case, just think how brave she was and how ultimately capable and accomplished in her own way -- as the reader will see later on in her story -- she became in life despite that tendency to this irrational fear. I mean, she certainly never let on that she struggled with this anxiety while taking on and handling all that she did in her life.)
There is an interesting memory among our Uncle Lloyd's daughters of his having told that when he started school, he had to learn English, as Norwegian was spoken at home. Lloyd also said that the local country school was on the property of the Kilness farm. Our mother never told us, or, at least, me this story. And mom had no memory of this even tonight, March 18, 2018, during our phone conversation. Mom may not be able to remember anymore, perhaps, or having to learn English wasn't the case for her when she started school; but Lloyd was only two years older than she. In any case, this circumstance of her life, and her siblings' lives, may remain unclear or unsubstantiated. Another of mom's nieces, Carol Winsand Peterson, mom's sister Lillian's daughter, confirmed, though, that the school was on the Kilness farm, and it was called "Rindahl School".
Lola delayed starting high school in Gilmanton, WI, in order to care for her younger sister Miranda, who was hospitalized at Luther Hospital in Eau Claire with kidney disease. There was no one else in the family who could be with Miranda, so Lola was the one to stay with her. Miranda's disease is easily treatable now, but then, very little could be done. Lola would stay with her sister long weeks at a time, sleeping in the hospital, as she had nowhere else to stay and no money for food; often she ate off Miranda's tray. And, as often as she could, Lola would give blood transfusions to Miranda. In a stroke of good fortune, though, a loving and generous woman, who worked in the hospital, saw Lola's situation and often took her home with her and fed her. Almost forty years later, Agnes Babington still called Lola 'Honey' whenever they got together. Mom would also sometimes recall that at one point while staying with Miranda, a young doctor, an intern, became interested in her, and they would spend some time together. Mom recounted that Miranda once then asked "Do you no longer have time for me, Lola?" But Lola still remained by her bedside while her illness progressed.
Miranda died in 1939, and then Lola could start high school in Gilmanton. Lola always felt a little strange, she often said, because she was a few years older than the other kids, but she did very well in high school and finished in only three years. She declined the honor of salutatorian, she said, because she was older than the others and felt that one of them should have that distinction. She maintained her friendship with one of those younger classmates, David Smith, for the rest of his life, visiting him and his wife whenever she came to Madison to see her son John and his family. Dr. Smith lived and practiced in nearby Janesville. In high school, mom said, he was kind of a so-so student and a cut-up, and when the daily assignment was turned to in class, he'd whisper to Lola, asking what was the assignment or the answer. Mom also told how during high school, those chilblains acquired years earlier in winter catching the school bus would sometimes hurt so much that she'd go at lunch time or even leave for the day sick in order to stop at her friend Beatrice (Paulson) Gilman's house in Gilmanton to recover. She would relate how Beatrice's toddler son Tom would go around the house comically calling out "Beatrice, Beatrice!" instead of saying "Mommy!", because that's what his dad called his mother. Now, amazingly, about five years ago, completely by chance, I, this author, that is, happened to run in to a Tom Gilman from Arkansas at a park in Fitchburg, WI, near Madison, where both he and I were visiting grandchildren. We started to talk, and in no time discovered he was from Gilmanton, his mother was Beatrice, and my mom and she were good friends in their youth. And we chuckled about his calling his mother Beatrice. He asked me to greet my mother for him. I told mom a little later then about this wonderful, serendipitous encounter, and she smiled at the memory.
Sometime before or after, or maybe even while she cared for Miranda – it’s not clear to me exactly when or what her circumstances were, as mom’s unable to remember now in order to give me more details or any clues – she says that she was working for a time in either Eau Claire or Minneapolis at a Fanny Farmer candy store. She told this author this many times, but I guess I’ll never likely get this story straight.
Next, after graduation in 1942, like so many of that Greatest, World War II, Generation, she went off to do her part in the war effort. She bravely left on her own then for Washington, D. C., striking out alone while never having traveled very far at all from home before. When she'd arrived, she would often recall, she had to take a typing skills test on an old, clunky Underwood typewriter after having learned on a new Royal machine. She thought that she hadn't done nearly well enough, but she must have, as she worked for the government from then until the war was over. Lola's part in the civilian side of the war was working in the offices of the Department of the Navy in Washington, D. C., first as a typist and later assuming greater positions in clerical support work. She sometimes related how she'd prepare documents that a courier would then take to the Secretary of the Navy, James Forrestal, for his signature. Mom would years later often recall around Christmas, how one of these couriers, a black man with a beautiful voice, would be asked to sing carols in the office in observance of the holiday. His singing must have been wonderful and comforting, especially during the stress of wartime, as mom remembered it strongly still. At one point while in D. C., Lola was given sick leave to take the train back home in order to care for her ailing mother. Her mother did recover, but mom said it took some time, and it got to be quite a long leave.
Mom sometimes told this story about traveling alone some place by train during the war: She was on one stopped train and another was on a track right close to hers. Well, that train was packed with soldiers, and a window flush with them was right by her window. When the soldiers saw mom close by their faces at the window, they reacted like soldiers do generally when they see a good-looking young woman. Jostling one another to get mom’s attention, they reached out their window and accidentally broke the glass on mom’s, cutting her face some as a result. But mom said a doctor was on the train, and he patched her up quickly.
Lola's future husband, Philo Nelson Kelley (P. N. K., "Pinky") Englesby of Mondovi, WI, had wanted her not to go to high school and then to work but, rather, to join him instead where he was based in the Navy at San Diego, CA, and then later in Hawaii. But she decided against that, as she wanted to finish high school and go to work. She said that if she had married him then, she'd have been at Pearl Harbor where he was based on December, 7, 1941, when the Japanese attacked. (Mom sometimes would tell how after the attack on Pearl Harbor, David Smith, that same younger boy and cut-up for a classmate back in high school, asked after her boyfriend Philo, wondering if he had survived the battle and was okay. For some time, indeed, there was no word about him.) Instead, she joined two friends from back home, Lucille Nyre (later, Casper), from Mondovi, and Valorie (Val) Gunderson (later, Leschisin), from Gilmanton, who already were working in the war effort in Washington. They all lived together and made do with wartime shortages and austere living, forming life-long, fast friendships. Lola and her girlfriends/roommates worked long hours supporting the war effort, but they did have some off-time when they would have nights out going to dances with servicemen and spending some weekends in New York. All of this -- the sights and sounds of the big cities, and the dances -- made a strong impression on these small-town girls from rural Wisconsin. Mom sometimes recalled that at one of these dances, she met a young soldier -- she never said his name -- who asked if he could write her when he had shipped out to Europe for the upcoming invasion of France. And, he did write for a while, a number of times, Mom said. She recalled that in one letter, he told how they'd eat better in the field that night, since they'd shot a wild boar. And, then, the letters just stopped. She never said it, but the young soldier had probably been killed in action. Lola also told the story about Val's brother Dewey Gunderson, a young Marine medic, spending time on leave with them in D. C. before he shipped out to Iwo Jima in early 1945. She wondered as he got on the train and they all waved good-bye if they'd ever see him again. And they didn't, as at Val's prompting when word didn't come after the battle about him, Lola checked, she said, with Casualty in the Navy Department, finding that Dewey had indeed been killed. On a long walk that evening along the Tidal Basin lined by the blossoming cherry trees and down the National Mall among the monuments, Lola told Val what she had found out about Dewey. Val then quickly got leave to go home to be with her parents and family.
Only a short while afterwards, Lola recalls, too, witnessing in late April, 1945, FDR's funeral cortege as it passed down Pennsylvania Avenue by the White House.
Mom also found out sometime soon after the war ended, she said, about what happened to another boy, a young soldier, named Neil Britton, from a nearby farm to hers back in Dover Township, Buffalo County, who also went off to war in the Pacific. She learned that this neighbor boy, who she knew well, had died in the infamous, terrible Bataan Death March after the fall of the Philippines to Japan in early 1942. Mom recalled that she went with Neil's younger brother for a time, but Neil was better looking. [Author's note: I've learned just in the past couple years by checking on-line military records that Neil actually somehow survived the Death March only to die shortly afterwards in the hell of a Japanese prisoner of war labor camp.
When the war was over, Lola took the elevator up to the top of the Washington Monument and looked around the nation's capital, one last time, she recalled, where she'd been the past three years. Then, it was off back home to Wisconsin in order to prepare to get married in Norwich, CT, where Pinky was still serving in submarines. Mom recounts an extraordinary experience she had riding the train back to Wisconsin: While finding her seat, she looked up and suddenly found herself face-to-face with her brother-in-law Leslie Winsand, her sister Lillian's husband, who was returning from Europe following his discharge! They both just happened to be on the same train traveling back home after doing their duty in the war effort. Leslie and Lillian had married in 1943 before he left for the invasion of Europe, where he fought as a glider infantryman from D-Day and on in other famous battles, through the Battle of the Bulge, until victory over the Nazis.
Lola and Philo [Author’s note: I'll call him Philo just this one last time, as he hated the name and insisted everyone call him Pinky, except mom, who called him Phi or, rarely, even Philo, which he accepted, but only from her. Pinky called her Kilness, by her last name, which I, as a young child, unaware of maiden names of moms, found very strange, indeed!] were married in Norwich, CT, where Pinky was still serving in submarines, on September 5, 1945. After Pinky was discharged in November, they made their way back to Mondovi, WI, and began their family. William Patrick was born in May, 1946, with James Nelson following in October, 1947, Jacquelee Ann (Jacky/Jackie/'Jack') in June, 1949, and, finally, the baby, John Nord, in May, 1951. [Author's note: This author patiently endured being called the "baby" over the years by mom and others in the immediate and extended family, although sometimes the epithet did grow vexatious for me, especially when I was young, as I thought it disparaging. For decades now, however, I've accepted the moniker gladly, of course. Incidentally, I learned long after I'd been a grown-up that mom had a miscarriage in about 1957, so I'd not have been the baby otherwise.
Pinky had a number of jobs to support the family during those early years (this author doesn't know all of them or the exact succession of the positions he held), starting with being a part-time deputy sheriff in Buffalo County and working in diners or 'greasy spoon-type' restaurants in Mondovi, both jobs being work he had done before the war. He even after a time got his own restaurant up and running, an ice cream/diner-type operation, maybe a 'dairy bar' place, I'm guessing, named, of all things, considering his strong and steadfast aversion to his first name, "Philo's Cafe", with a big, illuminated ice cream cone, marquee-type sign outside in front. But this venture was unsuccessful, and the family suffered a big loss. In the early years of their marriage and for some time afterwards, unfortunately, money was scarce and debt considerable. Next, he worked at the Presto appliance factory in Eau Claire for a time and later even drove far down to southern Wisconsin to work and stay a week or more at a time at the General Motors car factory in Janesville, WI. He also worked for a number of months for the Federal Government in Greenland as a cook while the NORAD early warning radar facilities and air force base were being built in Thule, Greenland. All the while Pinky was working these various jobs and was away much of the time, Lola was raising the growing family largely on her own.
First, they lived with Pinky's mother Ella Nelson Englesby Canar and her second husband Patrick George Canar. George was a kind, understanding, and sympathetic man, but he, unfortunately for Lola, died shortly afterwards. (Lola never met her father-in-law, William James Englesby, as he drowned in 1927 while duck hunting on Lake Pepin (WI) with his good friend George Canar.) It was difficult and often very trying living in her mother-in-law's small house, frequently with Pinky's sister Gaylienne ('Aunt Billie') Englesby Birks and Pinky's spinster aunt Klara Nelson being there. Ella, our grandmother, and Aunt Klara and Aunt Billie were generally very difficult people to be around (that's about enough said concerning this trying time for mom), so this period was often extremely unpleasant for mom, especially as she was raising the kids without Pinky being around much. All three of these new relatives through marriage were volatile and unpredictable personalities and, per mom, they were jealous of Pinky's love for her and his attention to her. One story that mom would sometimes tell is when mom asked Aunt Klara not to keep feeding little toddler Jimmy any more, as he was clearly full. All three then erupted with anger at Lola's impudence and presumption in questioning them, and they immediately, per mom, threw her and the three or four little kids (I don't know if this author had been born yet in May, 1951) out on the street! And they didn't give them any help in gathering up their things and necessities either. (Pinky was not around at the time, it seems.) Mom, though, sought help from two good friends, Jo and Marv Stoll, a kind and childless, older couple, who helped them move and find an apartment. They lived, then, in that apartment or another for a while before finally renting a house at 134 N. Jackson St. Here, the young family could finally put down their own roots for a time, making friends with several families in the area. This was a much better time for mom. And the Stolls lived right across the street there.
Pinky was hired in the summer of 1955 as the new Chief of Police in Augusta, WI, so they moved there in July, and the family home remained there at 718 Hudson St. until Lola had to go to the nursing home in July, 2017. Mom filled the home with love and did everything she could for the family. She made sure that all of us kids went to the Lutheran Church across the street and got confirmed. Dad was always working or then sleeping, it seemed, and he wasn't a handy person either. So, mom was the one who did small household repairs and kept the home together while we grew up. This author remembers her as an amazing cook and baker and a gardener, who grew all sorts of vegetables in the back yard. She also was an excellent seamstress with her old Singer sewing machine. All four of us kids wore in turn to school at Easter a bunny costume she sewed.
We kids recall mom driving us every so often to visit our relatives back in rural Buffalo County and to attend Molland family reunions; she called these trips "going over home". [Author's note: I have many memories as a young boy of going to these large reunions of the Molland family in a park on the south side of Mondovi. But the most vivid one is of a large, short woman of maybe 45 or 50, named Burdette Severson, and, according to mom, the adopted daughter of one of her aunts, who would always belt out in a loud but beautiful voice what became my favorite hymn and was always mom's, as well -- "How Great thou Art". Even tonight, March, 18, 2018, in our phone conversation, she said it was always her favorite hymn.
Besides being the mom and housewife who held the home all together while Pinky was working long hours as the only cop in town, Lola went to work in the early '60s in order to supplement the meager policeman's salary paid at the time. She did office work at J C Penney and K-Mart in Eau Claire and then worked for a time at the new Bush Brothers Canning Co. in Augusta. But she found her lasting and rewarding career working as the Augusta High School administrative secretary from 1964 to 1986. Many students fondly recall Lola's years in the AHS office, and the numerous principals and superintendents over the years certainly must have remembered Lola well, as she generally, she would often say, would have to show them what their positions entailed as they learned their jobs. Most of them were newly promoted teachers or 'freshly-degreed' young administrators without any practical experience.
Another unrecognized and unsung 'job' she held was that of the wife of a small-town policeman, the Chief of Police, yes, in this case, but for most of Pinky's career, the only cop in town. She would often be awakened at night or have to drop everything at once during the day in order to answer the police phone in the house and try somehow to reach her husband, dealing over the phone with whatever emergency or call for service came in while Pinky was out and usually not readily reachable. This involved lost sleep and much stress and worry, but she also did this job well.
After the kids were grown and her retirement, Lola did some traveling around the state and the country with her good, close friend from town Betty Taggart, as well as out to California many times on her own to visit son James the doctor (of whom she was very proud) and his family and the circle of friends he had first in the Los Angeles area and later the Lake Tahoe/Truckee area. Mom and son James some years earlier before her retirement also took a driving trip to Arkansas while Jim was finishing up medical school in 1972 or 1973 in Madison, Wisconsin. Possible retirement living there for mom and Pinky was the idea. Lola also visited several times her old childhood friend from a nearby farm back in Dover Township, Buffalo County, Ted Longseth and his family, who lived in Reno, NV. Lola made it to Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, too, with Betty and saw where Pinky had been on 12/7/1941 and she might have been, had she followed him. Lola also took up bowling, bicycling, and swimming over the years that followed, and she kept involved with social meetings and luncheons of retired Augusta High & Elementary School teachers and staff. She really enjoyed staying in touch with all of them.
On June 17, 2012, Lola was invited to her childhood church, Evanger Norwegian Lutheran Church, back in rural Independence, WI, for a 140-year anniversary celebration, along with a Confirmation Reunion of all the surviving members of the confirmation classes. Lola was the oldest surviving confirmand, class of 1933. Her second cousin from her mother's side, the Mollands, Lorraine Johnson DeBel, was the second oldest surviving confirmand, class of 1937. Mom's younger sister Miranda, who had died in 1939, was also confirmed with Lorraine in that class. Mom had a fine time, and this author enjoyed this glimpse of her past and the church's long history and traditions. And, of course, we both enjoyed the fine, traditional Norwegian dinner (although I don't remember lutefisk being served, which mom would've missed).
Mom was a lifelong, devout Lutheran and a member of Grace Lutheran Church right across from her house all the while living in Augusta. Mom was always steadfast in her faith, and she never cursed or swore, unless you count the frequent oaths “Uff-da!”, showing her pure Norwegian heritage, and the much less ethnic but still endearing “Good night, shirt!” She loved the Norwegian foods lefse and lutefisk, as well as all the pastries, cookies, and other staples of traditional Norwegian cooking.
As she grew older, Lola had a major health crisis when breast cancer was diagnosed in the early 1990s. But she survived it, and that is now almost thirty years ago. Lola was able to stay in her own home living completely independently up to about age 95, including for a time after recovering from a fall in which she had a badly broken right arm that never healed well enough to restore her previous capabilities. Later on, as she grew increasingly more infirm, she had around-the-clock personal care that her diligent saving and investing financed and was still able to remain in her house until July, 2017, when the growing disability of advanced old age made it necessary to move to the nursing home.
She lost many relatives and good friends as the years went by, including the two roommates and girlfriends from Washington, D. C., and Ruth Harden, her very close, good old friend from town with whom she had also worked at the Augusta schools. (With the help of Vanessa Hernandez, one of her main caregivers, mom was determined a few years ago to get herself ready and go outside and across the street to her church for Ruth's visitation and funeral. This was a wonderful tribute to her dear friend.) She was predeceased by all of her immediate family and husband Pinky, in August, 2000. Also preceding her in death are her daughter Jackie Englesby Gort's husband Jim Gort and her sisters' husbands, Cecil (Margaret) Nogle, Leslie (Lillian) Winsand, and her brother Lloyd's wife, Virginia, and one of her nieces, Jane Winsand (Lillian) Brantner (Ronald). All of her children survive her along with the sons' wives, Audrey (William) Westlie Englesby of Augusta, WI, Susan Bujeaux (James's former wife) Englesby of Reno, NV, and Sandra (John) Lucchesi Eslyn Englesby of Madison, WI, as well as their children, the grandchildren, Laura (William) Farah (Mitch) of Augusta, WI, William Nicholas (William) Englesby of Augusta, WI, Evan (James) Englesby and his wife Courtney Ridgel of Marysville, WA, Emma (James) Englesby of Ft. Collins, CO, Carrie Eslyn (John & Sandra Englesby) Hanson (Michael) of Fitchburg, WI, and Lee (Natalie) Eslyn (John & Sandra Englesby) of Stamford, CT. Great-grandchildren are Lauren (Laura) Holcomb, Ksenya (William Nicholas and his former wife Irina Khudneva Englesby of Concord, NC) Englesby, Maxwell and Ethan Hanson, and Autumn Eva Eslyn. Lola is also survived by her nieces and nephews, her siblings' children, Kathleen Kilness (Lloyd) Simpson (James) of Minneapolis, MN, Doris Kilness (Lloyd) Gecewicz (Michael) of San Diego, CA, Kirsten Kilness (Lloyd) Heck (Dean, deceased) of rural Mondovi, WI, Carol Winsand (Lillian) Peterson (David, deceased), of rural Independence, WI, Stanley (Judy) Winsand (Lillian) of rural Mondovi, WI, and Alan (Roxanne) Winsand (Lillian) of Middleton, WI. Lola's wonderful, old friend from the beginning in Augusta, Delores Staats, of Chippewa Falls, WI, also survives her. Finally, Lola and Pinky also had over the years two wonderful little dogs, Baby, a mutt, and Buddy, a Shi-Tzu mix, who they loved very much. Both dogs were absolutely devoted to Lola alone and really only tolerated the rest of us.
Lola is also survived by two first cousins with whom she remained close over the years and saw or talked with as often as she could: Ruth Kilness Eide of Strum, WI, and Evelyn Nyre Cleveland of Los Angeles, CA.
Special thanks and recognition go out to Lola's oldest son William and his wife Audrey, who coordinated mom's care in her own home for several years and also visited her nearly every day, all the while managing her house, property, and finances, as well as to her daughter Jackie, who cared diligently, days at a time for many months, for mother in her home. Also, exceptional thanks and recognition are gratefully extended to the many in-home personal care givers who were with Lola for a couple years before she had to move to the nursing home. They were special, selfless friends to Lola -- at a time when she really needed them -- who tried hard and always to make her comfortable and happy. They include Claire Smith, Janeen Albrecht, and Vanessa Hernandez. These three were the rock upon which Lola's care was built at the time, along with several others, especially noting Sheri Kramer, who also lovingly cared for Lola in her home of sixty years.
Visitation will be from 4 to 7 p.m. on Friday, Feb. 7, 2020, at the Anderson Funeral Home in Augusta, and from 10 to 11 a.m. on Saturday at Grace Lutheran Church in Augusta. Funeral services will be held Saturday at 11 a.m. at the church with burial in the West Lawn Cemetery next to Pinky.
A luncheon following the committal will be held at the church.
Flowers and memorials are much appreciated, including, as desired, in Lola's memory, to Augusta Health & Rehabilitation or Grace Lutheran Church.
