Eulogy for Irene Neugent
Quite the young beauty
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For those who don't know me, I'm Bill Neugent,
the oldest of Irene's three sons. On behalf of the family, I'd like to
thank you all very much for coming today. I'd like to share some memories
of our mother, so we can enjoy once more the pleasure of her company.
Mom left school in the sixth grade to get a job and support the Ravenelle
family. Six days a week she bused to Crowley's farm on Farmholme road,
where she helped clean, do chores, and nanny the nine Crowley kids. She
liked the Crowleys. Tom Crowley told me yesterday she was like one of
the family. It's also where Mom met her future husband, Harry. But the
work was hard, ten to twelve hours a day, for a dollar a day. She gave
five dollars a week to her father and kept one for herself. |
Life was hard. Mom never forgot the humiliation of standing in the free-food
line during the Depression, to get food for the family. And there were few creature
comforts. It was bad enough having to go to an outhouse, but the Ravenelles
had the double displeasure of being attacked on the path by a mean rooster.
Mom often remembered the happy day when they had that rooster for dinner. No
one complained the meat was too tough.
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Initially, Mom just had a bunch of brothers and one sister, Lil. She wanted
another sister. So when her mother Rose next became pregnant, Mom said
a rosary to pray for a sister. But she wanted a sister real bad, so she
said a second rosary. Well, they both worked. She got twins, Rita and
Rhea.
The twins were under five pounds and in poor health and Rose was bed-ridden.
The twins had to be kept warm. Mom helped set their cradle on a bench
by the stove and kept them surrounded with bricks that she warmed in the
stove. That little incubator might have saved the twins lives. |
The Ravenelles
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Bill as Irene
envisioned him.
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Our years on Fishers Island were great. Mom
made the most of life. She loved Halloween and had a creative genius for
it. Once, thanks to Mom, I was an eight-foot scare crow. I carried a pole
from which the costume hung and peeked out through a hole in the belly
button. It won first prize. Bob won first prize as a mummy, wrapped in
an old sheet Mom cut into strips. Only problem was, he kept coming unraveled.
After costumes for us, she also did some for herself. Once on the island
she went to a Halloween party as a flapper. She even behaved like a flapper,
dancing in the street. She made a short skirt and lined the hem with fringe
from a bed-spread. She wore strands of Christmas beads that normally go
on trees. She put on Betty Boop style lipstick. Most important, since
she would never be seen in public so risque, she wore a mask. There was
just one thing she forgot. She forgot that she might win, which is just
what happened. The mask had to go. It was the most embarrassing moment
of her life. |
Mom was a painter and quite good in oils and watercolors. She especially loved
to paint cows. Once Eugene wanted her to do a painting for him. He asked her
to paint a horse. Mom was miffed. She griped to Rita. She said, "You can't
tell an artist what to paint."
Maybe we boys thought we had some of Mom's artistic talent. Once, on the island,
painters were painting our house white with red trim. They took a break and
left their paints out. We boys weren't afraid of work, so we decided to help.
First we dipped all their brushes and tools in the red paint. By the time Mom
found us, there was red paint all over the wall and all over us. She didn't
care that we were being artistic. She scrubbed us down with a stiff brush, turpentine,
and a vengeance. Ouch. That was our last experience as artists.
Mom was creative in lots of ways. She and her friend Ruth designed, made, and
sold their own line of kids pants, called pantalets. We found some yesterday,
cleaning a drawer. Cute little things in red velvet, with ruffled cuffs. If
they'd had money to market, Mom and Ruth might have done well. More recently,
on Neugent reunions, Mom made crafts with her granddaughters, Odena, Reneé,
and Kathryn. One year they gathered and painted sea shells to decorate the Christmas
tree. Our prettiest tree ever.
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Smile or I’ll brain you
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Neighbors on Fishers Island thought we were
abused children because Mom yelled louder than a fire truck and hit us
with anything within reach. But we boys never felt abused. We were boys.
When we were bad, bad things happened. John once did something bad and
when Mom went to hit him he ran away. Big mistake. She ran after him,
found him hiding under a bed, and clobbered him with a broom.
That was Mom. You knew what was on her mind. No mind games. You want
her opinion, you got it. Sometimes even if you didn't want it. Actually,
that's a trait not only of Mom, but of all the Ravenelles. We happen to
like it.
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Mom did yell. You could tell how much Mom loved Della, her amazing cat, by
how much Mom yelled at Della. Mom originally found Della by going to a farm
and picking the cat that the farm children referred to as "the bad cat."
During Mom's last days, that bad cat staged a vigil. She sat next to Mom's bed
for hours, watching Mom, wanting to be with her. Della knew even as a cat that
something was happening to the human who loved her, and she wanted to be at
Mom's side. If Della had her wish, she'd be lurking in those flowers there.
Mom never had much money. She stretched a dollar so far you could use it as
a clothes line. A few years ago, Mom was visiting Jill and me in Virginia. We
were shopping in a gourmet grocery store as Mom pushed the cart. I had placed
about five things in the cart when I turned and the cart was empty. Mom said,
"Did you see the prices on those things? You can't pay those prices."
She'd put everything back on the shelf.
Mom once bought a new upholstered chair. This was such a rare experience she
left the tag on for weeks, just for the pleasure of it.
Mom's glass in life might have been half
empty, but her stories were full. She could find humor in unlikely places.
When she was starting chemo, she sat waiting for hours next to a very
old lady who also had terminal cancer. They competed to see who was in
worse shape. The old lady told her story. Mom said, "Oh yeah? Well
I can only see out of one eye and only hear out of one ear, and that ear's
not doing too well." The other lady said, "What?" Mom gave
her the win.
There were one or two evening nurses at Westerly Hospital that Mom didn't
appreciate. She said, "I'd like to see them in bed and me with the
needles. I'd jab 'em."
Her last days were the hardest. I cannot say enough to thank Bob, Rita,
and Rhea for being there around the clock. It meant so much to Mom. And
Hospice was a godsend. |
Irene’s life in one image:
Make the most of the hand you’re dealt. |
How do you repay the gift of life? I think by enjoying it. Mom helped us with
that by giving us the gifts not only of life, but also of love and laughter.
The spirit she brought to life will remain alive in all of us that she touched
with her love and her warmth.
So let me close by saying, in the spirit Mom would want, that the awful grief
we feel at her loss can only be surpassed by the joy that such a beautiful woman
ever existed. Mom, thanks. We love you.