Arline P. Corthell, also known as "Penny," passed away peacefully on Tuesday, May 14, 2013 after a long struggle with Alzheimer's disease.
My grandmother spent her entire life in Haverhill, and one of the things I admired most about her was that, as a child of the depression and later as a single mother raising seven children, she knew how to make things last, and to get the most of everything. I was especially lucky growing up in a home where she lived right downstairs, so she was there for every moment - the illnesses, the vacations, the happy moments and sad, always there to lend a cup of sugar or teach me how to sew a gift for my mother. She was the crown jewel of a family that grew from those seven children to eighteen grandchildren to a multitude of great-grandchildren that grows to this day.
If you asked any member of the family what we remember about Grammie, you'd probably get a score of different answers. She was Grammie with the hat, owing to her extensive collection of millinery. She loved God and had a Bible verse for any occasion. She could knit and sew and patch any fabric. She was famous for her Anadama bread, and her red bunny. She had a washing machine that shook the house like an earthquake whenever she did laundry, and always hung her clothes outside to dry. She had a small saucepan that she stubbornly refused to throw away, even though it was severely dented and the handle had broken off. She played the piano, even when the arthritis in her hands made it difficult, and I can still remember hearing her melodies drifting haltingly, beautifully up the stairs. Her shoulders were often stiff and sore, and if you placed your hands upon them, you weren't getting away without giving them a good rubbing.
There's an old story about a woman who, as a girl, was told at dinners to "Save your fork; the best is yet to come." Sure enough, dessert would always arrive soon thereafter. When she died, she'd asked to be buried holding a golden fork in her hand, as a reminder that the best is indeed yet to come. As the heartbroken members of her family commend her soul to God in the days to come, we will place the golden fork in her hand, knowing that she'll need it where she's going. Rest well, Grammie. God will have all the best waiting for you.
"Every day, in some small way, memories of you come our way.
Though absent, you are ever near, still missed, still loved, and ever dear."
In 2018, her great-granddaughter and namesake, Penelope "Penny" June Howard was born. I regret that they weren't able to meet, but I hope that somewhere, somehow, she knows and is proud.
My grandmother spent her entire life in Haverhill, and one of the things I admired most about her was that, as a child of the depression and later as a single mother raising seven children, she knew how to make things last, and to get the most of everything. I was especially lucky growing up in a home where she lived right downstairs, so she was there for every moment - the illnesses, the vacations, the happy moments and sad, always there to lend a cup of sugar or teach me how to sew a gift for my mother. She was the crown jewel of a family that grew from those seven children to eighteen grandchildren to a multitude of great-grandchildren that grows to this day.
If you asked any member of the family what we remember about Grammie, you'd probably get a score of different answers. She was Grammie with the hat, owing to her extensive collection of millinery. She loved God and had a Bible verse for any occasion. She could knit and sew and patch any fabric. She was famous for her Anadama bread, and her red bunny. She had a washing machine that shook the house like an earthquake whenever she did laundry, and always hung her clothes outside to dry. She had a small saucepan that she stubbornly refused to throw away, even though it was severely dented and the handle had broken off. She played the piano, even when the arthritis in her hands made it difficult, and I can still remember hearing her melodies drifting haltingly, beautifully up the stairs. Her shoulders were often stiff and sore, and if you placed your hands upon them, you weren't getting away without giving them a good rubbing.
There's an old story about a woman who, as a girl, was told at dinners to "Save your fork; the best is yet to come." Sure enough, dessert would always arrive soon thereafter. When she died, she'd asked to be buried holding a golden fork in her hand, as a reminder that the best is indeed yet to come. As the heartbroken members of her family commend her soul to God in the days to come, we will place the golden fork in her hand, knowing that she'll need it where she's going. Rest well, Grammie. God will have all the best waiting for you.
"Every day, in some small way, memories of you come our way.
Though absent, you are ever near, still missed, still loved, and ever dear."
In 2018, her great-granddaughter and namesake, Penelope "Penny" June Howard was born. I regret that they weren't able to meet, but I hope that somewhere, somehow, she knows and is proud.
Arline P. Corthell, also known as "Penny," passed away peacefully on Tuesday, May 14, 2013 after a long struggle with Alzheimer's disease.
My grandmother spent her entire life in Haverhill, and one of the things I admired most about her was that, as a child of the depression and later as a single mother raising seven children, she knew how to make things last, and to get the most of everything. I was especially lucky growing up in a home where she lived right downstairs, so she was there for every moment - the illnesses, the vacations, the happy moments and sad, always there to lend a cup of sugar or teach me how to sew a gift for my mother. She was the crown jewel of a family that grew from those seven children to eighteen grandchildren to a multitude of great-grandchildren that grows to this day.
If you asked any member of the family what we remember about Grammie, you'd probably get a score of different answers. She was Grammie with the hat, owing to her extensive collection of millinery. She loved God and had a Bible verse for any occasion. She could knit and sew and patch any fabric. She was famous for her Anadama bread, and her red bunny. She had a washing machine that shook the house like an earthquake whenever she did laundry, and always hung her clothes outside to dry. She had a small saucepan that she stubbornly refused to throw away, even though it was severely dented and the handle had broken off. She played the piano, even when the arthritis in her hands made it difficult, and I can still remember hearing her melodies drifting haltingly, beautifully up the stairs. Her shoulders were often stiff and sore, and if you placed your hands upon them, you weren't getting away without giving them a good rubbing.
There's an old story about a woman who, as a girl, was told at dinners to "Save your fork; the best is yet to come." Sure enough, dessert would always arrive soon thereafter. When she died, she'd asked to be buried holding a golden fork in her hand, as a reminder that the best is indeed yet to come. As the heartbroken members of her family commend her soul to God in the days to come, we will place the golden fork in her hand, knowing that she'll need it where she's going. Rest well, Grammie. God will have all the best waiting for you.
"Every day, in some small way, memories of you come our way.
Though absent, you are ever near, still missed, still loved, and ever dear."
In 2018, her great-granddaughter and namesake, Penelope "Penny" June Howard was born. I regret that they weren't able to meet, but I hope that somewhere, somehow, she knows and is proud.
My grandmother spent her entire life in Haverhill, and one of the things I admired most about her was that, as a child of the depression and later as a single mother raising seven children, she knew how to make things last, and to get the most of everything. I was especially lucky growing up in a home where she lived right downstairs, so she was there for every moment - the illnesses, the vacations, the happy moments and sad, always there to lend a cup of sugar or teach me how to sew a gift for my mother. She was the crown jewel of a family that grew from those seven children to eighteen grandchildren to a multitude of great-grandchildren that grows to this day.
If you asked any member of the family what we remember about Grammie, you'd probably get a score of different answers. She was Grammie with the hat, owing to her extensive collection of millinery. She loved God and had a Bible verse for any occasion. She could knit and sew and patch any fabric. She was famous for her Anadama bread, and her red bunny. She had a washing machine that shook the house like an earthquake whenever she did laundry, and always hung her clothes outside to dry. She had a small saucepan that she stubbornly refused to throw away, even though it was severely dented and the handle had broken off. She played the piano, even when the arthritis in her hands made it difficult, and I can still remember hearing her melodies drifting haltingly, beautifully up the stairs. Her shoulders were often stiff and sore, and if you placed your hands upon them, you weren't getting away without giving them a good rubbing.
There's an old story about a woman who, as a girl, was told at dinners to "Save your fork; the best is yet to come." Sure enough, dessert would always arrive soon thereafter. When she died, she'd asked to be buried holding a golden fork in her hand, as a reminder that the best is indeed yet to come. As the heartbroken members of her family commend her soul to God in the days to come, we will place the golden fork in her hand, knowing that she'll need it where she's going. Rest well, Grammie. God will have all the best waiting for you.
"Every day, in some small way, memories of you come our way.
Though absent, you are ever near, still missed, still loved, and ever dear."
In 2018, her great-granddaughter and namesake, Penelope "Penny" June Howard was born. I regret that they weren't able to meet, but I hope that somewhere, somehow, she knows and is proud.
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