Mattie Eula Meadows Gupton: 1891-1969

Today is the 118th anniversary of the birth of my grandmother. Mattie Eula Meadows was born on July 28, 1891, in Bessemer, Alabama, to James Ransom Meadows and his wife Mary Harriet Snowden Meadows. She and my grandfather, Samuel Morris Gupton, were married on Christmas Day in 1910 in Bay City, Texas.

I was in the sixth grade when my Daddy's mother passed away on April 27, 1969, at the age of 77. She had suffered a severe stroke while visiting her daughter and son-in-law, Ruby and Kirby Fontenot, in Bellaire. Although my sister Kelli and I were only children at the time and were not supposed to be allowed into her Methodist Hospital room in Houston, our Uncle Kirby slipped a nurse a fifty or something like that and slipped us in to see Eula one last time before she died. I can recall walking down that long hallway towards where my grandmother awaited us thinking that Eula would be sitting up in bed, laughing and chatting with all of her family members who were there. Being the stupid little kid that I was at the time, I was preparing my topic of discussion with her as I walked through that hospital room door. The sight of her in that hospital bed is something I will never forget. The stroke had taken away her ability to speak and she was partially paralyzed. Uncle Kirby whisked Kelli and I past those family members who were in Eula's room and situated us near her so that our grandmother could see Kelli and I. I think I babbled something to Eula about how much I missed her and asked when was she coming home. She lived in the house across the yard from the home I lived in with my parents and my brother and sister in West Columbia. Her lack of response and stoic facial expression quickly brought me to tears. My sister and I returned to the waiting area while our parents remained in Eula's room with her. That was the last time I saw my grandmother alive.

I can remember being on the front porch of our home with my cousin Angie when either my mother or Angie's mother came out and told us that our grandmother had died. My Daddy had prepared me for this with a little talk he had with me about how death would eventually come to each and every one of us, and his mother's time to leave us was drawing near. But I still fell all apart when the reality that Eula was gone had sunk in. Having Angie there with me meant a lot and I can still recall her telling me that day something on the lines of dealing with the passing of our beloved grandmother would surely not be easy but we should both be thinking more about our fathers who had just lost their mother. Angie and her brother Hank are the children of Aubrey and Terry Gupton while my sister Kelli and brother Cody and I are the children of Rex and Verna Gupton.

Eula was also survived by her daughter Ruby Nell Fontenot and sons Thurman and S.D. and their respective spouses, Kirby Fontenot, Gladys Gupton and Nina Dean Gupton. Her other grandchildren who mourned her passing that very sad day in 1969 were Dolores and Peggy Lou, the daughters of Thurman and Gladys, and Kirby and Denise, the children of S.D. and Nina Dean. All of Eula and Buff Gupton's grandchildren (with the exception of my little sister Kelli) are pictured with our grandparents at their golden wedding anniversary in the home of Judge Thurman and Gladys Gupton in West Columbia in the bottom photo. Eula is shown holding me when I was a baby in the top photo, taken in late 1957 or early 1958 in her yard.

But on Eula's birthday today it is more appropriate to reflect on her wonderful life than to rehash the difficult days leading up to her death. She was a very loving, caring mother and grandmother to my father and his siblings as well as to me, my siblings and all of my cousins. My grandfather Buff (who was called Bussie by me and several others and Granddaddy Gupton by DoDo and Peggy Lou) today walks the dark shadows of my memories as a very thin, frail, elderly man struggling for every breath he took while suffering from emphysema. He died when I was a small child but I can still remember Eula or my mother or father taking me into his bedroom to sit with him in those last few years of his life. My brother is over three years older than me and he and my older cousins were lucky to have enjoyed much more precious time with Bussie than I did. And I'm sure my sister doesn't remember her grandfather at all. She was born the year Buff and Eula Gupton celebrated 50 years of marriage in 1960 and was only one or two years old when Bussie passed away.

Through the numerous reels of old home movies my godmother Ruby Nell Fontenot and her husband Kirby took in the mid to late 1950s, valuable family mementos that I now possess and have transferred to videotape, I can view snippets of what life must have been like in the Gupton family before I was born and when I was a baby. My grandparents, parents, uncles and aunts and cousins (and me, my brother and baby sister) are brought back to life on television screens for my personal enjoyment each and every time I stick this videotape into a VCR. And now, eight years after the passing of my father and more than 13 years following my mother's death, I still am unable to avoid getting misty eyed and emotional when watching Aunt Ruby's old home movies. They are all silent films but if I look real, real close . . . at times I actually think I can hear their voices and the unique laughter of my Aunt Ruby and especially Aunt Nina who both had such wonderful loud laughs.

My memories of those earliest days of my life are highlighted by such frequent laughter, not only from my brother and sister and myself, but those many family members who made us laugh. Uncle Hank, Uncle Doc, Uncle Thurman and Uncle Kirby were such outstanding men to have accompany our father Rex Gupton in providing each child of these men (Uncle Kirby, who had no children of his own, was my godfather) with top notch dads and role models beyond compare. And their wives--Thurman's wife Gladys, Kirby's wife Ruby Nell, Rex's wife Verna (my mom), Hank's wife Terry, and Samuel Doc's wife Nina Dean--really gave our family its heart and soul. These were the children of Buff and Eula Gupton and their spouses. When this group would get together for family gatherings laughter was the key ingredient that stands out in my memory of my youth. I think I can speak for my brother and sister in saying that we all simply adored our family, each of our many cousins who share our bloodline and their parents.

The strength of the S.M. Gupton family was its matriarch, Mattie Eula Meadows Gupton. My son Brian asked me earlier today when I informed him that this was the 118th birthday of my dad's mother if I remembered her at all. I admitted to Brian that sadly I have very few memories of her husband Buff but Eula was another story all together. My parents built a home across the yard from my dad's mother's house in 1962 following the death of my grandfather. From the beginning of our time living on Gupton Lane we all attempted to include Eula in practically all aspects of our daily lives as her next door neighbors and her family. There were many times Eula would sit at our dinner table and watch television with us in our new home. And right up until the time of her final days when I was in the sixth grade I often would sit with her either in her living room where the only air conditioner in her house would keep that portion of her home cooler than anywhere else, or on her backporch where her favorite and most comfortable chair was situated in a location where she could gaze out through the many windows surrounding her on all sides and see her backyard, the road that ran beside her house and our front yard. This was her favorite place to sit during those final years of her life. And it is where I would sit beside her time after time after time and listen to her stories of her youth and throughout the rest of her long life. She would often dig out her pictures and tell me who everyone was in them, read old letters that were stuffed in drawers and boxes, and tell me just how much her family meant to her. Those words were never really needed though, because how much she valued each and every member of her large family was so very obvious by her actions. I knew from my own heart just how much Eula meant to me in those dozen years I was able to share my life with her. Since her passing it has meant a great deal to me to hear my cousins and aunts and uncles express to me how each of them also held her in their loving embrace during her life and, like me today, still think of her fondly when Eula Meadows Gupton crosses their minds.

I ask each of my surving relatives in the S.M. Gupton family who read this blog to add a comment about your own memories and stories about our grandmother. As I've said many times, I remain very envious of each of my older cousins and my older brother who were able to spend more precious time with both Buff and Eula before they passed away. A happy birthday is extended to Eula today and I close by simply saying that I loved her very much and yes, even after all these years, I still miss her dearly.

Sendoffs Were Fitting For Nana And Slick

The common bond spoken of frequently in the recent funerals of Henry Schlitzkus and Viola Kapalski was that of FAMILY. Sure, there are many other similarities to boast about this unforgettable pair: their German heritage (which I share on my mother's side of my own family), their mutual beginning of their lives in neighboring Fort Bend County, the fact that both loved a good party, and they each were lucky to live long, eventful lives. But this past week the deaths of Henry and Viola left huge holes in the respective family structures of the Schlitzkus's and the Kapalski's, and took away two wonderful human beings that I thought so highly of.

I've known both of these West Columbia-area residents for a long time but did not know, until reading their obituaries in the local newspapers, that Henry Schlitzkus (pictured above with his wife Bettie) was called "Slick" by his friends, or that everyone in Viola Kapalski's large family referred to her as "Nana." They were simply Henry and Mrs. Kapalski to me. But they are both the type of people one wishes they knew better and, to put it bluntly, could be more like. For a pair of better role models in life, you need not look any further than these two.

I sat among the large congregation of mourners at Henry's funeral at the Baker Funeral Home chapel in West Columbia this past Saturday, and attended the funeral mass at St. John the Apostle Catholic Church in West Columbia for Viola today (July 27, 2009). The sendoffs for these two longtime area residents, both the parents and grandparents of many people I have considered dear friends for many, many years, were both memorable and oh, so touching. I was deeply moved by the 21-gun salute, the playing of "Taps" by a bugler, and the Masonic rites delivered for Henry Joe Schlitzkus Saturday afternoon at the same historic Columbia Cemetery where many of my own ancestors are buried (and where my wife and I will one day be laid to rest alongside my father and mother). And I have never before heard more appropriate words spoken at a funeral than those delivered earlier today by Viola Kapalski's daughter when she stood before the packed church and told everyone what a special mother she and her brother and sisters had been blessed with.

I started first grade in 1963 with Charles Kapalski and the two of us graduated from Columbia High School together with the Class of 1975. Charles, better known to his family and friends as "Boogie," and I have been friends for 46 years. Henry Schlitzkus's son, Henry Joe Jr., was in school with me for the majority of the time he and I attended school in West Columbia, but Henry Joe was always a couple grades ahead of me. Boogie and Henry Joe were the only boys in both of their families, and each was blessed with older sisters to help keep them in line. All the Kapalski and Schlitzkus girls, as well as their brothers and extended family members, are in my thoughts and prayers today as I commiserate with each of them in their time of great loss, grief and sorrow.

The Reverend James W. Gentner, pastor of Bethel Presbyterian Church in East Columbia, spoke Saturday of Henry Schlitzkus's obligatory habit of asking his church's congregation each and every Sunday to pray for someone Henry knew was in need of their prayers at that particular time, adding that Henry always included our country's soldiers fighting wars abroad in his prayer requests. Jim Gentner said that Henry never forgot about his fellow farmers and ranchers when they were all sorely in need of rain for their crops and livestock. He mentioned one particular Sunday morning when Henry had prayed for rain, leading Reverend Gentner to assume Henry must have had a special hotline to "the big guy" because the following week it rained, and rained, and rained, and rained some more . . . until 13 inches of rain had fallen on the West Columbia area. Jim Gentner said that the following Sunday Henry had the church members in stitches when he remarked, "Okay God, I think that's enough now!"

I sat beside Henry Schlitzkus at Bethel Presbyterian Church one Sunday service several years ago and he told me that he had joined the Army with my mother's brother, Howard Giesler, when the Korean War was going on. That particular Sunday a loud rainstorm hit the East Columbia area while we were all inside the church (which Jim Gentner said at Henry's graveside service Saturday is the fifth oldest church in the state of Texas) and I thought Henry was going to have a heart attack right there beside me in the pew when a loud crack of thunder erupted above us. He apologized to me for the manner that he had nearly jumped out of his skin, but leaned over and whispered in my ear that ever since he came home from Korea loud noises still shook him down to his toenails. My Uncle Howard has told me the same things about his tour of duty in Korea, so I simply patted Henry on the knee that day and said it was quite alright. And that was one Sunday when the heavens had seen fit to drench our little town with rainfall before Henry Schlitzkus could ask the Bethel Presbyterian congregation to pray for rain.

My strongest memories of Mrs. Kapalski involve my mother and/or father taking my brother and sister and I to buy fireworks from the Kapalski's fireworks stand on the outskirts of West Columbia (they lived on the Brazoria highway just beyond the city limits sign). Each Fourth of July or New Year's Day were holidays when the Gupton kids could light firecrackers and run around the house with sparklers in our hands. We would shoot off bottle rockets and Roman candles and other fireworks usually purchased from Boogie's parents' fireworks stand. Viola's husband Jake Kapalski was a good friend of my father's and I hope that Boogie's mom is now reuniting with her husband Jake, her parents Charlie and Emma Kettler, her grandson Jesse Justin Danford, my mom and dad, and Henry Schlitzkus and his parents, John and Annie Schlitzkus, for a really big party to celebrate the arrival in Heaven of both Viola and Henry.

Jim Gentner said at Saturday's funeral service that Bettie Schlitzkus told him when her husband's time on earth was nearly over she asked him of all the things they had done together in their nearly 59 years of marriage what did he like the best. Reverend Gentner said it was no surprise to Bettie or to anyone else who knew Henry well that his response was one simple word . . . "church." That is yet one more common thread that bonds these two wonderful people in my life that I had to say farewell to this past week. Henry and Bettie had been faithful members of Bethel Presbyterian Church in East Columbia since 1954. Henry was a deacon and an elder in his church and they both sang in the church choir for many, many years. Viola and Jake Kapalski were charter members of St. John's Catholic Church in West Columbia, and were both instrumental in starting Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church in Sweeny prior to the construction of St. John's. Their mutual faith in the Lord Jesus and lifelong commitments to their respective area churches were among the most honorable and worthy aspects of these two great individuals' makeup.

But, for me personally, what I will never forget about Henry Schlitzkus and Viola Kapalski is what I saw and took to heart simply by knowing them for the majority of my life and by attending their respective funerals on Saturday and earlier today. That is the structure of their families, their lifelong service to their fellow residents, and the sheer strength of those two families. That is what means the most to me as an individual. My children are everything in my life and that obviously was the case with Henry and Viola. Their two families are both large and each consists of many members of strong character. That was never more obvious than today for Viola and Saturday for Henry when so many people showed up for their respective funerals. Many people attended who hardly knew the deceased, yet took the time and made the effort to show their respects with their attendance and kind, comforting words because of how much they care for the extended members of the two families. And the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of these two are each a reflection of Henry and Viola. They all come from really good stock!

Henry Schlitzkus was born February 10, 1930, in Rosenberg, Texas, to John and Annie Schlitzkus and graduated from West Columbia High School in 1949. He worked for Dow Chemical for 41 years and nine months. He was 79 at the time of his death on Wednesday, July 22, 2009. He was raised on a farm between West Columbia and Damon, where he lived until his recent death.

Viola Ida Kettler Kapalski was 89 at the time of her passing on Thursday, July 23, 2009. She was born on April 18, 1920, in Needville, Texas, to Charlie and Emma Kettler in the family home.

The recently departed Henry Schlitzkus is pictured below with his wife of 59 years Bettie and his daughter Patty and Patty's husband Charles Seiler. Viola Kapalski's son Charles is also married to a Patty. Charles Seiler spoke at his father-in-law's funeral Saturday and Patty Kapalski read a very touching poem that she had written especially for her mother-in-law at Nana's Monday morning funeral mass.