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Barbara E. (Countryman) Nunnally, 80 of Lincoln, passed away April 1st, 2015, surrounded by her family. She faced her daily battles with incredible strength, tenacity, and immense grace. She had a firm belief in God and a strong devotion to her family. Barbara was born on a hot July 18th in 1934 at the family farmhouse near Hooppole, Illinois. She began her undergraduate degree at North Central College in Illinois, and completed her primary undergraduate degree in Elementary Education with a secondary degree in Christian Education at Nebraska Wesleyan University in Lincoln, Nebraska. She was married to Rev. Donald Nunnally...
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Barbara E. (Countryman) Nunnally, 80 of Lincoln, passed away April 1st, 2015, surrounded by her family. She faced her daily battles with incredible strength, tenacity, and immense grace. She had a firm belief in God and a strong devotion to her family. Barbara was born on a hot July 18th in 1934 at the family farmhouse near Hooppole, Illinois. She began her undergraduate degree at North Central College in Illinois, and completed her primary undergraduate degree in Elementary Education with a secondary degree in Christian Education at Nebraska Wesleyan University in Lincoln, Nebraska. She was married to Rev. Donald Nunnally on June 9, 1954 in Hooppole.
Barbara loved many things, including music, the outdoors, traveling and caring for her five children. She was a life-long leader in United Methodist Women, and taught Sunday School and Confirmation throughout her life.
Barbara is survived by her husband, Rev. Donald Nunnally of Lincoln, daughter, Janet Williamson (Steve) of Council Bluffs, Iowa; son, Douglas Nunnally (Carrie) of Rugby, England; son, Bruce Nunnally of Denver, Colorado; daughter, Carol Countryman Nunnally (Tedd Enck) of Lincoln; and son, Gary Nunnally (Melanie) of Lincoln. She is also survived by her sister, Margaret Trucano (Vernon) of Ottumwa, Iowa. Her grandchildren include Heather and Zach Williamson, Christian and Ian Nunnally, Halie and Hannah Nunnally, and Joshua, Elizabeth, and Isaiah Nunnally. She was also the great grandmother of four.
Barbara was preceded in death her parents, Velma and Clayton Countryman and by her brothers, Bill, Marvin and John Countryman.
Barbara’s celebration of life service will be at 10:30 AM on Tuesday, April 7th at St. Paul United Methodist Church, 1144 M Street, Lincoln, NE and a luncheon will follow at the same location. Memorials in Barbara’s memory may be directed to: NE chapter Alzheimer’s Association, 1500 South 70th Street, Suite #201, Lincoln, NE 68506 or Brain Injury Association of Nebraska, 2424 Ridge Point Circle, Lincoln, NE 68512.
Barb's Eulogy was written by her daughter, Carol Countryman Nunnally and delivered by Carol's husband, Tedd Enck.
My Mom was never any good at playing April fool’s jokes. When she was still at home with her sister, Margaret, their Mother was working in the garden. Grandma always had a big garden out behind their house. Mom called to Grandma, “you have a phone call!” And Grandma started moving to the house. At that time, most calls indicated something dire, something had happened and she would want to be responsive to whatever emergency had occurred. She was a short, squatty woman, waddling quickly to the house. She washed her hands and took off her boots. When she got to the phone, Mom said “April Fools!” Grandma was so angry with her, if she would have brought in her hoe; I think Mom would have lost part of her ear! Margaret has told me that she warned Mom, “you better not do this!” But of course, Mom being Mom was determined to play her prank and she laughed and laughed, despite the somber atmosphere she had created.
“That’s my Mom!”
I remember when I was a kid she would do things like pour cold water with ice cubes over the shower I was taking or make a cake with salt instead of sugar. “April Fool’s”. “Not funny, Mom!” But she would laugh and laugh.
“That’s my Mom!”
Proverbs 31 talks about the ideal woman who is clothed with strength and honor. Mom was the ideal woman personified, a giver.
I know Dad “picked her out” at the women’s dining hall at North Central College. You see, the bachelors at Evangelical Theological Seminary would share meals with women at North Central College. She told Dad later that she wrote in a daily diary and would include the special things she did every day. Dad says she obviously wasn’t impressed by him because she didn’t mention him in her diary entry for that day, but he was impressed by her from the first day they met. He pursued her to a YMCA camp near Estes Park, Colorado and they became engaged on a large rock at Bear Lake. It was important to him that she have a strong Christian faith and when he discovered she also played the piano, I think it sealed the deal. So, she became a “preacher’s wife” at the young age of 20. She told me that the first church with which they did ministry had a tradition on the Sunday closest to your birthday, to go up to the altar and give an offering, the number of pennies you were in years. She was mortified that the church would discover and not be happy with such a young leader but she complied with this plan and counted out, one by one, only 20 pennies. I’m sure she did fine and took that leadership role to heart. “You picked well, Dad.”
In fact, I’ve learned over the years, by watching her and hearing stories about her, the innumerable ways she gave to the church and to people of all kinds. Those of you involved in groups know how difficult it often is to keep that group going. Mom was a master at starting groups and keeping them going as she led everything from book clubs to helping refugees. Our friend, AJ told me that she looked forward to every book club meeting because Mom would lead a discussion that was always interesting and thought provoking.
“That’s my Mom!”
Near St. Patrick’s Day a month ago, Mom illustrated her resolute thoughts about church doctrine when my brother, Doug asked her if she was Irish. Before he could finish his question, she said “No, I’m Protestant!” So you may understand the irony and great humor, that the final church service she attended was a Catholic mass at Madonna. Doug, being Mom’s child, said to her that “they (the services) were all the same!” (Protestant and Roman Catholic alike) And I’ve been told that not only did she enjoy herself immensely, her granddaughter, Elizabeth, noted how peaceful her countenance was.
During her years being cared for at Madonna we had innumerable meals together. And Mom and I love to eat! If I didn’t time correctly when to get her tray, I would already have my meal in front of me and she would inevitably want mine. I tried things like telling her “if you eat mine, you won’t be hungry for yours” or “I promise I won’t eat anything until you have your tray too”. At least once I placed my tray, I thought, beyond her reach and when I returned she had somehow gotten hold of my food and had it almost devoured before I returned with hers!
But she would also be generous and offer her food to me, saying, “have you eaten, yet? Would you like some of mine?” Or if you didn’t know how tricky she could be “I don’t like corn, would you trade me my corn for your mashed potatoes?” appeared at first blush to be generous.
“That’s my Mom!”
I know we have a lot in common, but I hope that I’m like her too.
When Doug and I broke her out of Madonna and took Mom shopping just a couple of weeks ago we also took her to eat ice cream, one of her favorites. She ate ravenously, enjoying every bite. Doug and I looked at each other, I’m sure thinking the same thing, that her blood sugar would be through the roof, and said to each other that “Madonna can deal with that!”
As a family, we would camp, and hike and play on the beaches on all coasts. My brother, Bruce, has said he is still in awe of how much travel we all did together. Perhaps he now looks back on those trips from the perspective of a father and grandfather. By the age of 23, I had been to all the contiguous states in the U.S. and Alaska. She was frugal, as she had to be, in order for us to travel as we did. We ate a lot of peanut butter sandwiches, apples and powdered milk (it’s actually not too bad when it’s cold). The opportunities were endless and they sparked my love for travel and adventures.
Mom was gifted intellectually. She sped through 12 years of school in 10. She shared the Valedictorian spot as a high school senior and sailed through college in three years.
In my line of work, I see all kinds of psychological, emotional and cognitive difficulties. Dementia is a strange duck, often leading people into a darkness that must be very lonely. But Mom was so different from this stereotype. We had some rituals we used when I went to visit her at Madonna the last few years of her life. She would see me, and say “oh, Carol, I’m so happy to see you, thanks for coming!” I would meet her as she was, telling her that I loved her and how glad I was to spend time with her and we would talk about many things, sometimes very lucidly and always with recognition, each time a gift to me. I never tired of our parting words, her soft kiss on my cheek, even her “death grip” when holding hands. Last year after her brother John’s death, she didn’t want me to leave her because she was scared of going to sleep (I think because she knew Uncle John had died in his sleep). She said she didn’t want to die and together we decided that we hoped she would celebrate lots more birthdays! (pause)
Another time I was wheeling her towards a yellow custodial sign saying, “caution, wet floor”, or something of the kind. I said, “Mom, what are you doing?” She very matter-of-factly knocked over that sign with this impish grin on her face! And didn’t say a word. (pause)
I taught her how to play Chinese Checkers again. “Now, Mom, watch carefully, your next turn look how you can jump this one and this one but first it’s my turn.” I’ll be darned if she didn’t study and study that board and when it was her turn she jumped all the right moves to beat me!
Speaking of beating me, Mom was very competitive. I think it’s time to tell Dad and my brother, Gary, that the only times they beat Mom and me in the card game, Pitch, was when we threw the game! I don’t remember whose idea it was to let them win, but we were great together!
“That’s my Mom!”
She was also skilled musically and when you could coax her, played the piano up until a few months ago. It will always amaze me that she could still play, proving the restorative power of music and song.
Mom taught all us kids how to play the piano but it was my sister, Jan, who got the music genes!
One of my favorite stories of Mom was in May, the end of my 8th grade year. A little background first, though. I was already well into my running career by 4th Grade and when I found out we were moving away from Hastings and the track club, I sobbed, not wanting to move. Mom came into my room, comforted me and promised that she would help me in whatever ways she could in my running and we quickly became a pair, first running together and then accompanying me on her bike as I ran and ran. But back to my 8th grade year. The day after the State High School track and field meet, Mom and I decided to simulate the meet. At such and such a time she would time me in the mile, in the ½ mile and in the 2 mile and I would go home and rest in-between, as the athletes had done the day before. We had a blast!
She was an athlete herself, competing in the backstroke at North Central College.
Mom loved to swim and would swim laps at the YMCA’s our family were involved in. In her later years, we would go to the Y pool in Lincoln together. She would religiously swim laps, however slowly, but also doggedly. It was there I treasured helping her shower and wash her hair afterwards. “That feels so good”, she would always say as I rubbed her head.
Mom had a great sense of humor (most of the time!) and she had the Countryman belly laugh. Need I say more about that?
My siblings, Jan and Doug and Bruce and Gary have their own stories to tell about our dear Mom and I hope you hear them.
Finally, one of the last stories involves her time with Doug and me just 3 weeks ago. We were outside taking photos (Mom loved to mug for shots and see herself in these instant digitized photos we now have) and Mom said out of the blue, “do you see that boy over there fishing in the pond?” Of course Doug and I didn’t see any pond, nor any boy fishing but she was resolute, “do you see that boy over there fishing? He died, he drowned.” Now I don’t know what you all think and believe about that, but I see it in a spiritual way. I’m certain Mom was seeing through windows to the afterlife. A couple days later, when she was mugging for another photo, she said, “that’s Grandma!” (her Mother).
I’d like to believe that she is now taking care of that boy who had drowned and is fishing in the pond, just like she has cared for and loved all of us in the only way that is uniquely hers.
I think maybe 6 days ago, on April Fool’s Day about 1:30 am, she played her best April Fool’s joke ever, and this time it makes me smile.
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