Although I did not see my Aunt Iva Lee often, she lives large in my heart.

When I was a child growing up in Atlantic, Iowa, my aunt seemed glamorous, living in Chicago, a city I could only imagine. She looked like a movie star—like Vivian Leigh—in her photo that hung in a row with her sister and brothers on Grandma’s living room wall. And she was so creative! I still have an angel Christmas ornament and a stuffed cat that she and Grandma made for me. And in my mom’s house there is a lovely shadow box (with Holly Hobbie enjoying the rain) that had pride of place in the bedroom I shared with my sister. My mom also has a decoupage that provided me with my first glimpse of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

Iva Lee was ten years older than my dad, and he always spoke of her with such admiration. She was the first in her family to attend college, and I imagine that she must have paved the way for her “little brother.” She might have inspired him to be a teacher, a career he enjoyed before I was born, and a role that I myself savor.

My parents loved it when Iva Lee and Jerry visited them, and I know that after Dad died, Mom especially treasured her phone conversations with Iva Lee.

The last time I saw her was at Dad’s funeral in 2000. Aunt Iva Lee looked like Grandma and brought huge comfort to me with her story of young boys trailing my dad, worshipping the football hero of Shenandoah, Iowa.  

My thoughts and prayers are with Uncle Jerry and all who will miss this lovely and inspiring woman.