EULOGY – Mary Louise (Baudoin) Patnaude (April 15, 1929 – September 8, 2024)
Mass of Christian Burial – September 28, 2024 By Mary Ellen (Patnaude) Haupert On behalf of my brother Paul, sisters Ann Louise and Catherine; our spouses Mike, Michele, Steve; our children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren; Mom’s sister Connie, and all our dear relatives here and accounted for, THANK YOU for being here. This part of the liturgy, right before the “Song of Farewell,” is where we commend Mary Louise to God. Some churches ask that the eulogy be at the beginning of the liturgy, but St. Joe’s is allowing us this brief pause to savor her memory before sending her into eternity. So, here goes… MOM LOVED A GOOD LAUGH! Just after Dad died, my mother handed over eulogy duty to me with the directive, “Just make sure that you make it funny, Mary Ellen.” Well, Mom, I don’t know how funny I can make these final words because losing you has been so painful. DON’T OVERLOOK THE DETAILS. They were a well-balanced pair, Mom and Dad. Dad was an extroverted man of sweeping gestures and creative energy, whereas our mother was more introverted with an eye for detail and organization. Dad would often comment on Mom’s great sense of humor and irrepressible drive and was in awe of her lovely singing voice and ability to manage money. Their faith, self-sacrifice, and fidelity steamed them through diapers and adolescence (which both happened all at once), the money-crunching college years (when home meals dwindled to school pizza and tomato soup), the death of my sister Carolyn, and the challenges of old age. There was no question that Mary Lou was the captain of our ship. She managed our household finances and kept us all on the straight and narrow with job lists and reminder notes that she taped to the kitchen cupboards. (I’m sure that she recycled the note, “Go to confession!” for years.) Mom kept track of our “progress” from week to week in a notebook, which she brought out every Friday night. If we had failed to make our beds, take out the garbage, or mix the powdered milk, there was a price to be paid: 10 minutes off the weekend’s “late night” for every task undone. (You can ask Catherine, Paul, and Ann Louise how that played out.) She taught us to pay attention to the little details – matching plaids on sewing projects and identifying wildflowers on Sunday family-day hikes. Even the grandchildren can attest to groaning when she enlisted them into organizing her kitchen cupboards. She taught us how to be precise and organized, which has spilled out in our own carpentry, crocheting, baking, music making, and life work. While our father taught us to see possibility in the negative space, our mother showed us what was right in front of our eyes. HOW CAN I KEEP FROM SINGING? Mom didn’t limit her teaching talents to elementary music. She had us marching around the dining room table when we were just toddlers and purchased a second piano so that we could practice simultaneously, upstairs and downstairs. We played band instruments, guitars, ukeleles (to name a few) and remember her teaching us Mary’s Canticle, “Magnificat” (arranged for treble voices) when she was the elementary music teacher at St. Joseph’s School. I will admit to times when I wished that we could keep from singing, but that wasn’t in my mother’s DNA. While other Bluebird groups were doing fun crafts, the group led by mother consisted of 5% crafts, and 95% singing. I was embarrassed back then, but know now what my mother knew then, “How Can I Keep from Singing?” LIVING CLOSE TO THE LAND Mary Louise Baudoin grew up on a farm outside of Blooming Prairie, Minnesota, where she gathered eggs, walked the cows to their stanchions, and attended a one-room schoolhouse a mile down the road. She was part of that greatest of generations who were forced “make do” during the Great Depression. They lived simply and close to the land - growing their own food and sewing clothing from printed flour sacks. Like her father and grandfather, Mary Lou liked getting her hands dirty. Everywhere she ever lived she cultivated beautiful flower gardens, which she liked to show off - “Come and see my gardens,” (at the lake) or “Aren’t my peonies beautiful?” (at the townhome). As she physically declined, she resorted to a weeder/pole contraption (probably made by her father) and was finally confined to a chair where she would sit and direct us as we did the work for her. Weez, Mandy, and I can attest to her taking at least half the credit for this labor. She would say, “We really got a lot done today, didn’t we?” FAMILY AND FAITH Even after each of us married and had families of our own, my parents continued to create special occasions for our families – KIDS’ WEEK being the most memorable for their grandchildren. While my father was dragging us on inner tubes behind the speedboat, my mother was preparing dessert – the highest priority on the menu. The grandchildren remember watching the adults being served tantalizing blueberry and lemon meringue pies, while they were offered only sugar cookies. It incited some picketing (with signs) and chanting, “We want pie! We want pie!” I can’t remember if Mom gave in; I think she just laughed and kept giving the kids sugar cookies. My mother found so much solace at church. She played the organ for Mass until she was 90 years old, and was active in the music ministry program for many years after all of us had settled into our adult lives. Maria Annoni used to refer to her as an occasional “bulldog,” but admitted to appreciating her work – most notably their collaboration on “In Every Age.” Mom and Michelle Kessler became great buddies from their years of playing several weddings and funerals, which almost always included Schubert’s “Ave Maria.” Turning in her car keys didn’t stop her from receiving the “Bread of Life;” she simply set up a ride with Arrowhead Transit Company so that she could get to Saturday night Mass. For Mom to stay at home, Catherine moved in with her permanently, and Mandy (with her baby daughter, Cora) provided in-home healthcare (and entertainment). Even though she had a steady stream of visitors in her final weeks of life, she was never socially satisfied. We out-of-towners received a familiar litany of questions, “When are you coming?” – “Oh, I’m so glad to see you! How long are you going to stay?” – “Can you stay longer?” – and “Why do you have to go?” And when we kissed her goodbye, she would say, “When are you coming again?” followed by, “Catherine, did you write that down?” The house was full of people when our mother/grandmother/great-grandmother quietly slipped away from us. We were filled with grief, and I could only think, “Why did you have to go?” … “Why couldn’t you have stayed a little longer?” STAND BY ME Finally, my mother wasn’t a perfect person but was a woman of great character and resilience. The Gospel passage from Matthew brings it to light for me. Despite Mom’s many fears (and water was one of them), she was always reaching for the child or grandchild who needed help or was trying to find the nicer thing to say. She, like Jesus, would always be the one to say, “Don’t be afraid” (although she would phrase it as, “Don’t be silly”). She would be the one who, during the toughest times of life, would “Stand by Me.” [pause] She stood by us all.
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AuthorMary Ellen Haupert is a wife, mother, pianist, teacher, and Catholic church musician. Archives
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