An ordinary extraordinary life

RIP Jane Childress Rodgers

Well done, good and faithful servant … enter into the joy of your Master. Matthew 25:23

This week I am in Birmingham, Alabama, for my grandmother’s funeral. Lynn and I arrived Tuesday to humid and warm Birmingham.

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Yesterday morning I donned the black suit Lynn insisted I buy several years ago for just this event. At the time my grandmother, Jane Rodgers, had just turned 100 years old and we had come to Alabama for her birthday party. Little could we imagine that she would live almost eight more years! Those years were good ones—she was as happy as could be and was a bright light to those around her.

We had a graveside service at Elmwood Cemetery in west Birmingham where many of my mom’s relatives are buried: the Plotowsky’s (my Czech Jewish heritage), the Childress’s, and the Rodgers’. My dad Robert Painter is buried in the Rodgers plot, too. Grandmother’s funeral is the fourth I’ve been to at that same spot. Mostly family was there, but a few friends and others. Grandmother’s former pastor—one of the few ministers still around that knew her—led the service.

We began at the funeral home for a viewing. In California at least, cremation seems to be the dominant trend, so viewing the body in the casket is something many have not experienced. I find it to be a valuable experience: the chance to say goodbye in a tangible way. The viewing time was also a time to connect with all of the family I have not seen for years. Weddings and funerals.

Next we made our way through the cemetery maze (behind the hearse and the funeral director who were leading the way) to the tent and chairs set for the family. Thousands of family plots spread as far as our eyes could see, all of the markers standing out against the mown green grass. To visit, a map is a necessity!

The service was fairly short with a scripture reading, a eulogy, a short reflection by the minister, and a song. I was blessed to give the eulogy, a remembrance of sorts. Here it is:

She was just there. As I think back over the past 62 years that have overlapped with the 107 years and eight months of my grandmother’s life, there are no individual moments that stand out, though there are many memories. The main memory for me was her presence. And her faithfulness. And her perseverance.

From my earliest memories whenever my family went to Birmingham, usually Thanksgiving or New Years, but probably a few other times too, I never remember her not being there, because she was. The many years we visited and stayed in their grayish green tri-level house on Turnham Lane, she was there to cook breakfast and dinner, to serve up Barber’s Ice Cream for dessert, and to generally make sure that everything that needed taking care of got done.

Grandmother (I always called her that) was habitual if nothing else. Amidst the chaos of the world, she had her routines. Every weekday morning she pulled out of the garage at 6:30 am to make the drive down to Lee-Rodgers [the family tire business in downtown Birmingham]. She would drive separately from Granddaddy who would come later. She spent the day at her desk crunching numbers on the adding machine. Even with the coming of computers in the 70’s, that adding machine continued to be her friend till the day she left Lee-Rodgers in her early 90’s. Payroll was her thing and she always had to check the numbers to the very end. I would say, even more than Granddaddy and then Bill (Rodgers) and Bill (Scott), she was the mainstay of the business. I heard tell before my time of her forgoing numerous paychecks so the employees could be paid.

Grandmother was always generous. She helped me numerous times. I remember Harry, a decades long fixture at Lee-Rodgers. He was a black man who worked there as long as I remember. Grandmother treated him with such respect and made sure that he was taken care of. He would come over in later years to help in their yard—he loved Mizz Rodgers.

The summer I worked at Lee-Rodgers following my sophomore year in college, I had the joy of going to lunch almost every day with the family. We would go to Ollie’s BBQ or Britlin’s or later Morrison’s cafeterias for lunch, depending on the day. When she got home, Grandmother would make dinner—always simple meat and vegetables with Barber’s Ice Cream for dessert most nights (she always had Hershey’s chocolate syrup to put on the ice cream).

During college at Samford, I would go over almost every Sunday to the house on Turnham Lane after church to wash my clothes and have a meal with Grandmother and Granddaddy (they were married just shy of 60 years). Those four years were a joy.

Many of my memories come from Thanksgiving. Jane Rodgers knew how to put on a spread: Turkey of course, green beans, sweet potatoes with marshmallows crusted perfectly on top, those flaky butter rolls from Waite’s bakery, and my very favorite—oyster stuffing. Most of us would roll into the living room with full stomachs for afternoon football. Over the years the family got bigger and bigger, but there was always plenty.

Speaking of football, she was always good for a Roooooll Tide with the family during the Alabama-Auburn game or the New Year’s games. Her main sports love in later years was the Atlanta Braves. When Turner began broadcasting the games in the 80’s, she became a die-hard fan and watched as many games as she could. I don’t know if she was aware of their recent success, but she would be delighted to know.

For me, Grandmother’s main legacy has to be her faith and her love for the Bible. From the late 1940s, she was a faithful member of Dawson Memorial Baptist until she couldn’t get there any more. She taught Sunday school forever, first to nine year old girls, then to ladies in their 70s to 90s. Every evening she would study her Sunday School lesson for the next Sunday—in those years there were actually study books for Sunday School—and play hymns on her piano. She wore out her Baptist hymnals. In later years, she had a beautiful grand piano that she loved. Over the years she was involved in women’s Bible studies during the week.

Her day by day, year by year, dedication to God and her love for the Bible was a model for me. Her inner life—and her response to so much over her life—was guided by all of the time she spent in her Bible and singing her hymns. Her quiet demeanor and her demure smile exuded God’s love in her life.

I got to visit her a couple of years ago in her final residence. She didn’t remember who I was, but when I told her I taught the Bible, she lit up like the sun.

When we came to celebrate her hundredth birthday, Lynn told me I needed to get a suit for her funeral. We got this suit soon after. Well it has been seven years now and fortunately it still fits. In spite of shingles and a fall and surgery, she just kept ticking. And the longer she lived the happier she got.

Now of course she is in the happiest place, but I think she was there long before.

I pray not necessarily to live as long as she lived, but to live as faithfully no matter my time here. Thank you, Grandmother.

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