Beatrice Morrow - Online Gedenkwebseite

With love from Debbie (Bea's daughter-in-law). Read at  Birthday Celebration

 

Gone from my Sight

 

I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength.  I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says:  "There, she is gone!"  "Gone where?"

Gone from my sight.  That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says:  "There, she is gone!"  There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout:  "Here she comes!". 

And that is dying.  - Henry Van Dyke

Remembering Bea

 

     We met Bea and her husband on a Scandinavian Elderhostel in 1994.  She had such a sense of adventure and enthusiasm that we took to her immediately.  I'm not sure if Bea hadn't been on that trip with us, if we would have taken the funicular to the mountain top overlooking Bergen.  Before we left Norway, Bea and Jack planned and staged a hilarious skit using the willing males in our group as trolls with gunny sack costumes and long white beards.  It had all of us rolling in the aisles.

     At the end of our trip in Sweden, it was Bea with her marvelous presence that spoke for all of us thanking the couple who ran the folk high school for the wonderful experiences there.

     I kept telling Bea and Jack about my dear friends, the Hoffmans'.  Somehow I knew they would enjoy each other.  After our return to California, I invited the Hoffmans and the Morrows to dinner at my home in Redondo Beach.  Both Bea and Ruth are dynamic women.  Somehow I had the feeling that this was the beginning of a great friendship.

     When Bea and Jack still lived in Long Beach, they would invite us for an elegant lunch prepared by Bea and a trip around the Long Beach and Los Angeles Harbors (in their boat).  Since they were avid travelers and staunch members of the Sierra Club, they were often away hiking, cross country skiing and teaching other members about the environment.  Bea also led inner city kids on hikes.

     When the Morrows moved to Cambria, we felt a bit bereft, but after we saw the location of their new home, we understood that it was the perfect place for them.  Bea got right into action by directing plays for the Pewter Playhouse.  She and Jack also began hosting Elderhostels up there.  In fact, the last time the Hoffmans and I saw Bea, she was hosting an Elderhostel that included hikes, of course, a trip to San Simeon, an evening of Jazz entertainment featuring Jack on the saxophone.  Ruth and I wanted to take the Morrows out for breakfast, but Bea was already preparing breakfast when we got up.

     I believe Bea faced her ordeal with cancer with more courage and spirit than most of us could begin to summon in the same circumstances.  She was directing a play shortly before she died.

     Bea enriched the lives of every one who came in contact with her.  Her example is a priceless gift.  Thanks, Bea for being the superb friend, mom, wife and environmentalist who walked her talk.

 

Lindie Banks

For Bea from Jack on her Birthday

 

     I first met Bea at a dance, and it was a "Some Enchanted Evening" type of thing.  I did see her laughing across a crowded room.  The only difference from the song was that she was surrounded by several men, who were also laughing and apparently having a great old time talking with her.   Then she happened to glance over my way, probably not at me, and I knew at once that she was something special.  I watched her dance once with someone else, then summoned all my courage and went over before anyone else could get there and asked for the next one.  To my joy and amazement, she said yes.  Then we began talking and I discovered that she not only talked beautifully, but was also a good listener.  She told me, among other things, that she hadn't wanted to come to the dance but a friend had talked her into it because the friend didn't have a car and Bea did.  I never learned who that friend was, but if I knew today I would send her the biggest bouquet of roses she ever received in her life.

     So we talked and laughed and danced our way through a beautiful 35 years together.  She did claim though, after we were married, that I suddenly forgot how to dance.  But I redeemed myself by joining the Dance Club here in Cambria after we moved up from my hometown of Long Beach.  To be perfectly truthful about it, I agreed to join the Dance Club after Bea suggested it was a good idea if I wanted to STAY married to her, and after June Kuntz had told Bea about the club.  I think June's husband Ed probably joined the Dance Club the same way I did.

     Bea loved theater and was an excellent director and before that an actress.  I'm sure others here will speak of her activities at the Pewter Plough and elsewhere after we moved here.  While I was courting her, she was performing in a children's play that subsequestly placed second in an international competition and was going to college majoring in theater, and was directing a musical called "Milk and Honey" out in the San Fernando Valley.  Plus looking after four kids.  I thought I was working hard, but I got tired just watching her.  And I did watch her alot.  I lived in Long Beach at the time, and I drove out to the Valley for every rehearsal, sometime two or three a week, a few times even more.  I think the cast thought I either worked there or was one big fan of theater.  They eventually learned that I was a fan of the director, to put it mildly.  But I was really a theater novice at that time, having probably been in actual attendance at a stage performance 3 or 4 times in my entire 45 years.  (Yes, kids and grandkids, granpa really was 45 once).  And being a novice at theater, but a professional manager in a corporation, I rather expected a director to maintain order and discipline to her job.  What I saw appeared to me to be chaos.

     There were prima donnas, of course, particularly in a musical.  But instead of replacing one of the stars of the show, she rewarded him with additional music to sing, which I helped her to write.  Turned out he was the owner of a chain of furniture stores, rich as Midas, and could probably double ticket sales at the box office.  He was talented though, so it probably made sense on that level alone.  There were actor no-shows at critical rehearsals, timing problems, lighting problems, problems with the musicians, and every other kind of problem imaginable, but Bea just sailed through at apparent ease, calmly going about her businesss.  I was in love with her, of course, and didn't have the heart to tell her she was in the middle of a disaster area and didn't seem to realize it.  Predictably, as it later proved, on opening night the cast performed as though they had been doing it all their lives rather than a few weeks, and the show filled the house every time I went, which was most of ther performances.

     I decided she was a winner on still another level and asked her to marry me.  She did and we subsequestly travled until we had been on every continent, crossed every ocean and sea by air or boat, including Antarctica, and visited every state in the union, Alaska and Hawaii included.  This is during the time we were running the publishing business we built together.  We planeed to travel some more after retirement, but you all know why we are here.  She never saw a Jacuzzi or hot spring she didn't like, a natural resource she didn't feel obligated to protect, a play she didn't yearn to direct, a home she didn't long to redecorate, or a male chauvinist she wasn't ready to take down a peg or three.  She was a fighter, and though she lost the greatest battle of her life against an opponent seldom defeated, it was not without a hell of a fight.

 

 

A Tribute To Bea; (was read at birthday party on behalf of Gary & June Hildreth)

 

     Bea Morrow - an incredible woman, an incredible friend!  I will always miss her.  I met Bea through the Pewter Plough Playhouse, but I really got to know her when she cast me and directed "Moonlight and Valentino."  Our first read through with a marvelous cast of actors, Bea asked each of us to tell a little about ourselves.  It was amazing how similiarly Bea and I thought.  We both raised children while working for our degrees.  We believed the same on religion.

     Rehearsals were always enjoyable, and Bea and I kept sharing our lives with each other.  We met with our dear husbands, Jack and Gary, for a couple of dinners and we met Bea's daughter at one of these outings.

     Bea was a gifted woman, in theatre as well as all her other activities.  I couldn't believe all she did for other people.  When she began her fight with cancer, we stayed in touch.  She was so positive.  And when I was in a car accident, she called me nearly daily "to boost my spirits", This was during the time she was going to UCLA or Stanford on a regular basis.  With all she had to deal with, she was always thinking of others.  She was a loving, brillant and talented woman.

     You are missed, dear Bea.  Thank you for being an important part of my life.  We Love you!  Gary and June Hildreth

 

Over the next couple weeks the family of Bea & Jack would like to share some of the wonderful speeches, poems, tributes that were given at her Birthday party.  Her is the first with many, more to come.

 

FOR BEA;

With Love to My friend, Bea,

Peggy Stangeland Rinella

 

It is a tradition in my family that a poem is written when a close member of the family passes.  This was written for Bea when I returned from Cambria.  I am so sad that I can not be at Bea's memorial service, but please know that I am there is spirit with you.  (poem shared at memorial)

 

 

Beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful Bea,

Strong to the bone

And smart as could be.

 

Politics left,

A lover of Arts,

Confidante to so many,

And director at heart.

 

She traveled the globe

With her dear husband, Jack,

Experiences plenty

They never looked back.

 

Loving wife and mother,

Grandma, great-grandma,

And it goes without saying

Dear friend to us all.

 

Theatre lover,

Musician and more,

And as everyone knows,

She was Green to the core.

 

Doubter of Faith,

But if such things are true,

She wasted no time

Telling God what to do.

 

Organizing the Heavens,

For her it's a whiz,

But hike while she's flying?

She already is.

 

 

I found this last month on Kyles my space site, he never mentioned it to me. He gave me permission today to post it here as well.  I have few regrets in life.  No more than anyone else that is.  I do however truly regret that my mother never saw this blog.  Just maybe mom you are somewhere watching over and you will see this to know how much you are loved and missed...kitty

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Grandma Current mood: thankful   One of the most special women in my life is suffering from an illness that may take her away from me very soon.  I learned yesterday that it may even be sooner than I thought before.  She is my number one fan.  No one has a laugh better than hers.  She has told me over and over that no one can make her laugh the way I do.  That makes me so happy because her crazy cackle is the most beautiful sound in the world.  I remember my mom's wedding.  I was sixteen.  Mom wanted me to perform at her reception, and I was stoked to do it.  At the time, my buddy and I were competing in high school with a scene from The Birdcage.  That's what she wanted us to perform for the friends and family.  We tore into it.  There were about 250 people laughing, but I couldn't take my attention off the nutty old lady in the front row.  I can still remember her shriek when I screamed, "I PIERCED THE TOAST!"  Last April I flew back to Los Angeles for a weekend.  I knew she was ill about 6 months prior, and had planned to see her for dinner with the rest of the family.  I was doing a set at the Comedy Store, and the family had planned to come see me.  We didn't know if she was going to come because the show was a little late for an old lady.  The day before I was told that she would be there.  I told a friend she was coming, and his first response was, "Are you going to cuss in front of her?"  I didn't decide to let it go until the moment they called me onstage.  The place was packed, and I said everything the way I would normally say it.  I could hear the cackle.  After the show she hugged me and and whispered in my ear, "I'm so proud of you."  She is such a special lady.  Without her I would not be pursuing my dream.  I wish I could give her anything and everything.  I wish I could be with her to make her smile on the cloudy days.  I wish I was 7 years old again, and she's wearing her bug-eye sunglasses while she drives me to Disneyland.

Jack & Bea, Bea & Jack - the two names will always be together, in my mind.
I loved them both, fiercely, for their bold courage in fighting for the environment.

The Port and Long Beach air was not clean enough for such a spirited soul and Bea knew that the pure air of the Central coast would be better. It was, of course, but when they moved in 2003, the chasm left in their wake in our Sierra Club Group could never be filled. We mourned their move but traveled north to visit when we could. I should have visited this March. Her door was always open.

And now we mourn again the great loss of Bea's sunny smile & easy grace. How could she be gone? She was a rock, a mentor, one we turned to for advice. Her constant personal support, warm hospitality in her home and happy laugh echoes now. We have to live on, but can continue her work, following her keen legacy!

Bea, we will always admire & love you
Sincerely,
Cecilia

P.S. I am Irish so have to tell a quick story. Once up at Keller Ski Hut on a Sierra Club Harvest "Apple Daze" weekend outing, Bea told Jack she knew this great hiking trail so off we drove in their van over bumpy back dirt roads. After a few missed turns, Jack was wondering where this "Fisherman's" Trailhead was and when he asked Bea how long it had been since she was last there - she said in a small voice "a few years". He bellowed "How many years?" She said "10 years, I think" and we all roared. We finally found it, around sunset, but never did hike it!

From my first reading of 'Sideman' to 95 pages of dialogue in 'Barefoot in the Park' to no dialogue in 'Moonlight and Valentino' to my small but meaningful part in 'It had to be You', you brought something out of me I never knew I had in me.  I am forever grateful for your inspiration and guidance.  I can confidently step on stage anywhere, anytime and know you're right there with me.  Thank you for a gift that simply keeps on giving.