Margaret Lauretta (McNamara) Toscano

03/19/1921 -- 06/04/2011

The words below were delivered in remembrance for our mother at her funeral service on Wednesday, June 8th, 2011. Because of time constraints, only the words shown in black were spoken while those in gray are additional remarks included only in the written text.

At the close of the eulogy, our sister, Eileen, sang a few verses of the song Red River Valley that our mother enjoyed and Eileen adapted the words for the occasion. Eileen later sang a traditional version of Auld Lang Syne.

Before I begin, I would like to address my siblings to say thank you to my sisters Flo, Margie and Eileen, who gave so much of their personal time and resources to our mother’s elder life.  Whether it was staying here in Florida for extended times, inviting her to your homes or traveling with her, I know that it enriched her later years very much.

Thanks also to my brothers-in-law, Jerry and Bill, thank you as well for your personal help and support over the years.

And, to Kathy, you’ve bourn so much of the responsibility for mom’s well-being and care.  You’ve always been there when needed and we know that you always acted in her best interests.   Your love and devotion to mother is greatly appreciated by us all.

On behalf of my brothers and sisters I thank you for being here.  It is unfortunate that two of our brothers Bill and Jim could not be here as they would have wanted to be here to celebrate with us.

Our mother, Margaret Lauretta McNamara, lived a long life, passing in her ninety-first year.  She was born in 1921 in Lincoln, Nebraska and spent her early years in Casper, Wyoming, later moving to Sacramento and then Santa Monica, California.

Her father was Irish-American and her mother was of British descent.  Her mother passed away while our own mother was a young adult and she missed her the remainder of her life.  She always spoke fondly of her amiable father whom she toted us out to see by train to California just prior to his passing in the early 1960’s.

She took great pride in her heritage.  I’m sure she delighted in the fact that her birthday was only two days removed from St. Patrick’s Day, a day she commemorated with green Jello in shamrock molds.  Actually, she was a fan of Jello and molds in general as we had red hearts for Valentine’s Day and a lamb cake for Easter.  She always had special ways to delight us at the holidays.

Even without great financial means each holiday was made special in our home.  Our Christmas traditions included a tree crowded with presents as well as stockings and gifts from Santa.  We were the only family I knew that celebrated St Nicholas’ Day and Little Christmas (Epihany) with shoes filled with treats.  We had a piñata each year and Margie continued the tradition with new and ever more creative piñatas each year.

We always got our favorite meals for our birthdays.  Mine was “beef-a-roni” (not from a can).  Margie tells me that hers was scalloped potatoes that always included leftover ham from our Easter meal that is a tradition she continues in her own household.

She could recite her English heritage back to one of the founders of a college at Oxford and beyond.  Since her great, great, great grand-father James Hunter fought in the Revolutionary War, she was qualified for the Daughters of the American Revolution and she was quite active in the organization.  I can’t say that our father was always supportive of her involvement in the group, though.  During one of our visits to Florida, he remarked to my wife Kathy and me, “They act like they fought the war!”  Her enthusiasm for the group remained undiminished.  She was a regent of the DAR, involved in the New England Women Historical Society, Red Hat Society and Questers.

When our father proposed to our mother he first insisted on asking her father’s permission, to which her father replied, “Don’t ask me, ask her.  She does what she pleases.”  He had been forewarned.

Our mother’s formative years were during the great-depression, an era that shaped the values of many Americans.  She attended Santa Monica Junior College and then UCLA, studying zoology but the Second World War intervened.  She met and married a swarthy, handsome Army sergeant and her life took a turn bringing her ultimately to Western Pennsylvania.  There, they raised seven children, who in turn begat thirteen grand-children, and now nine great-grand-children with more surely to come.

During our Childhood she would volunteer at our Catholic school cafeteria.  It was always kind of neat to see her on the other side of the lunchroom glass serving food.  It was one of those familiar, yet out of place experiences having your mom show up at school.  She volunteered as a Cub Scout den mother and with the Brownies.  She was also civic-minded, once running for council on the Republican ticket in our heavily Democratic town.

When I asked our elder brother and sisters for input on this eulogy, their remembrances included simple memories of childhood.  Margie recalls sitting on the couch with her watching TV and eating delicious sandwiches.  Bill remembers that she kept crackers in her purse to keep the very young Bill and Flo quiet in church.

Once a man brought a horse around to take pictures on. He told our brother Bill that he had to ask his mother’s permission. So, Bill went around the back, waited a few minutes and told him she said it was ok.  He took the photos and one day several weeks later he showed up with the photos. Our mother was very surprised because she had not heard of them, but in her kindness, she bought them.

She made friends easily.  I remember one of our cousins on our father’s side remarking that his own mother felt that no one outside of her family had ever been kinder to her.  She enjoyed the company of others, having fun, was easy going and loved to laugh, even at herself.

She was a devout Catholic.  Her religious devotion was unyielding.  Even on vacation, we had to seek out the local Catholic church.  Yes, Father, even on vacation!  Perhaps the most memorable of these was Saint Anne de Beaupre in Quebec.  It is a beautiful basilica that is something of a shrine and pilgrimage site.  Although in French Canada, this area is significant in Irish history as a place where many settled who were fleeing the great famine.

Our mother loved travel.  She called herself a gypsy and her own mother had said that almost from the time she learned to walk she never knew where she was.  Although our family was not well-off, our parents did their best to take us places as kids.  We went to Erie, PA where we ate spaghetti from a bucket.  We went to Niagara Falls where we took the cable cars over the whirlpools.  On our epic Canadian vacation we went non-stop up the Saint Lawrence and down the east coast.  Our mother probably earned credits towards sainthood on that trip.  Two adults and five children in a station-wagon for two weeks.  I remember us all fighting over a prime minister medallion giveaway at a gas station and the attendant taking pity on our parents giving them one for each of us.

We picnicked at Crooked Creek and the food somehow always tasted better at a picnic.  We picnicked at Kennywood where we could leave our cooler at pavilion #1 and we kids would go ride while mom prepared dinner that awaited us assuming we made it back at the appointed time.

After retiring, our parents traveled all over the states and lower Canada with a camper in tow.  Their trips usually routed them through the home towns of their far-flung offspring.  Now, they didn’t visit their children to free-load off them.  They always helped out a bunch wherever they visited and they still slept in the camper.

After our father passed, mother traveled with our sisters sometimes cruising to Mexico and on one occasion, visiting her ancestral home in the British Isles, including the highlight of the trip, McNamara Castle!  It happened that on this trip our mother arrived at the hotel where she and Eileen were to meet one day earlier than planned.  The staff checked her into the room anyway and when our sister arrived and was shown to the room, she remarked to the bellman, “I did not order an old woman with the room.”

Now, lest you think that was cruel consider that once, my wife showed our mother a picture of her and me on a water ride at Busch Gardens and our mother sincerely asked my wife, “Who is that middle aged fat man in the boat with you?”

She also made it back to Casper, Wyoming and to Douglas, a town where her parents lived when they were newly married.  Eileen and she attended mass at Saint Anthony’s, the church of her youth that she remembered in her dreams.

She loved music.  Our parents were season ticket holders to the opera.  She was especially fond of the angels chorus from Faust.  She would sing or whistle easily and was known for her love of the harmonica from childhood even to her adult life.  She also enjoyed the songs of the west, probably influenced by her cowboy father.  I still think of the tune “Red River Valley” now and again.  And, which of us doesn’t share her fondness of bagpipe music?

Our mother was a voracious reader with an encyclopedic recall.  She read all the classics.  She read to us at Christmas, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and a story that repeated the theme, “Jest for Christmas, I’ll be as good as I can be.”  She read to us from her classic illustrated “Jack the Giant Killer” tucked up high in her bedroom wardrobe which also doubled as a hiding place for the kids.   She even read my comics.  Although she had a lot of knowledge more often than not, when we asked her a question, she’d make us look up the answer ourselves.  That is what implicitly instilled in each of us an appreciation for knowledge and education.

Flo recalls times when mom sewed an outfit for her, that it made her feel so special.  It inspired Flo to take up sewing in order that she could make outfits for her own daughters and create that same special feeling for them.

She loved animals and always fondly remembered her own cat, Boots, when we spoke of pets.  Growing up we always had a cat or a dog and a cat.  Our beautiful dog, Tippy, had an especially close bond with mom as they were both home together so much.  Tippy was always happy when we came home and we suspect she missed our mom most of all.  In her later years she enjoyed Eileen’s animal menagerie during her visits to Denver and loved to have the tiny dog, Lulu, sit on her lap.  Kathy’s dog, Doggy, is a recent friend.  Kathy tells me that even as our mother was yielding in the fight to live, when she heard the little dog whine she asked, “What’s the matter, poochy?”  The dog was the only one she related to at that moment.

I’d like to close by saying that our mother will be remembered as a good-hearted person who was motivated by simple kindness.  She loved her children and expressed that love in little ways and big ways every year throughout our lives.  She instilled in us an appreciation for our heritage, for knowledge, and by example, a moral compass that serves us all each and every day.

Erin Go Bragh, mother, from the children you loved so much and who hope to honor you for the rest of our lives.  Farewell and go with God.

Eileen sings a portion of Red River Valley:

From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our pathways awhile

Come and sit by our side, because you love us
Do not hasten to bid us adieu
Just remember the Red River Valley
And the children who loved you so true

We will bury you where you have wandered
Near the hills where the daffodils grow
When you’re gone from the Red River Valley
And the children who loved you so

Come and sit by our side, because you love us
Do not hasten to bid us adieu
Just remember the Red River Valley
And the children who loved you so true