Lois Ann Schulte went home on July 16, 2016.
Lois Ann Schladoer Schulte was born February 24, 1936 in Bandera County, Texas, the second daughter of Benjamin and Fleta Joiner Schladoer. She grew up on the family farm on Mason Creek, and attended Bandera Schools for all twelve years, graduating from Bandera High School in 1954.
In the summer of 1954, at a baseball game in Cherry Springs, she met her best friend and soul mate, a Hondo boy named Alfred Schulte, Jr. They were married December 16, 1954 in Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Quihi, Texas. Their first child, Donna, was born just over a year later, quickly followed by Michael and Julie. 17 years after Julie’s birth, their 4th child and second son, Christopher, was born.
Lois worked in many different jobs during her life…as a waitress, a bank teller, an activities director for a nursing home and a church child care center director. She was given the opportunity to utilize her creativity by working in craft shops in Kerrville and Durango, Colorado.
Lois was a lover of plants, animals and people. She never met a stranger, and everyone could come to her for gardening advice. She was also known for her interior decoration skills, and helped many ladies rearrange their living rooms to the best advantage. She loved to travel, and road trips were her favorite way to see the country. Thrift store shopping in Kerrville became a passion in her later years.
Lois was preceded in death by her parents; by her granddaughter Megan (daughter of Donna) in 1980; by her son Michael in 1981 and daughter Julie in 2002. Their reunion must have been a most joyful event for them all.
She is survived by her husband of over 61 years, Alfred Schulte, Jr. of Seguin; by her daughter Donna Loth and husband Joe of Seguin and by her son Christopher of Colorado. She is also survived by grandchildren Amy Tobin Babel (John), Jason DeTeso, Megan Sharber, Stephanie Donaldson Paul, Emily Donaldson and Matthew Donaldson (Mariah); by great-grandchildren Joseph and Morgandy Babel, Vincent DeTeso and August Munzert. Other surviving family members are her sister Bennie Jean Schladoer O’Neill, brothers Richard (Patricia) and Ernest (Vivian) Schladoer, and many, many nieces and nephews.
Eulogy
Given by her son, Christopher, at the memorial service in Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Quihi, Texas, 23 Jul 2016
“I'm pleased we've all made it here to celebrate her life and her way around back home.
She's my mom-
So naturally, you could say i owe her a lot..
I owe her my life..
I owe her every question I've ever asked, and I asked a LOT!
And I owe her for every place I've ever been.
I gotta thank her for our trips to the high country since I was 2 weeks old and turns around the counties here in all weathers..
Thanks to her, now I'm always wondering what is just around the farther bend.
I owe her a fierce loyalty to friends and a sense of respect that's often forgotten these days.
I owe her my manners, and I owe her every mess I ever got into because I thought something might be unfair for somebody. Usually me.
She had this sense of duty to the folks of the world, the humbler the better. Her natural light could sometimes shine so random, that it would Leave the person in her sudden and very candid focus a little bewildered at her matter-of-fact generosity.
That never changed, right up to the end, and so we could see the veracity of her soul.
If she was afraid of anything I don't know what it was. Maybe being bored. Or seeing someone else, anyone else, in some kind of trouble.
She was always on the move; and it was work to keep up. Boy, I gave some summers to her projects!
I was shanghaied for random civic works, landscaping, remodels, and an unforgettably hot and thorough once-over of the Bandera Cemetery added to the regular chore list..
And so for that, I owe her a work ethic, and this kind of make-do know-how that she could whip out and fire at point blank range Into a troublesome thicket at the edge of the garden, or an innocent dining room wall.
She was a girl of these hills and rivers. I'm proud to say we went to the same schoolhouse, just like her ol' mum. We played the same teams, ran the same fields, and I grew up on her ground, thinking it was mine. And when I'd come home scratched, battered, soaked and with a few new freckles burnt in from a full day of explorin' the bends in the Medina and I'd tell her bout the burnt-out fortress high on the cliff above the river at the top of a hidden stair, she'd laugh and tell me bout the Silver Spur and how she used to dance up there with dad of a starry summer night. And so then She taught me to two-step.
She also taught me to speak up, to shut up.
To hold the door, and shut it behind me.
To stand up straight, and to stand up for others.
To look up,
To look forward to what's coming
Cuz it's all part of the process and part of the plan.
She knew to stick to the plan.
She knew where she came from.
And she sure knew where she was going!
I'm just thankful she passed thru here.
And I'm grateful you all came today.
I'm glad we can get together and remember her
For that shine
For a spark that could warm your heart
or start a grass fire...
Again, thanks for stopping in, Lois Ann.
Thank you for this life.
Thank you for the lens with which I can look through your eyes and mind.
We'll be seeing you.”
Lois Ann Schladoer Schulte was born February 24, 1936 in Bandera County, Texas, the second daughter of Benjamin and Fleta Joiner Schladoer. She grew up on the family farm on Mason Creek, and attended Bandera Schools for all twelve years, graduating from Bandera High School in 1954.
In the summer of 1954, at a baseball game in Cherry Springs, she met her best friend and soul mate, a Hondo boy named Alfred Schulte, Jr. They were married December 16, 1954 in Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Quihi, Texas. Their first child, Donna, was born just over a year later, quickly followed by Michael and Julie. 17 years after Julie’s birth, their 4th child and second son, Christopher, was born.
Lois worked in many different jobs during her life…as a waitress, a bank teller, an activities director for a nursing home and a church child care center director. She was given the opportunity to utilize her creativity by working in craft shops in Kerrville and Durango, Colorado.
Lois was a lover of plants, animals and people. She never met a stranger, and everyone could come to her for gardening advice. She was also known for her interior decoration skills, and helped many ladies rearrange their living rooms to the best advantage. She loved to travel, and road trips were her favorite way to see the country. Thrift store shopping in Kerrville became a passion in her later years.
Lois was preceded in death by her parents; by her granddaughter Megan (daughter of Donna) in 1980; by her son Michael in 1981 and daughter Julie in 2002. Their reunion must have been a most joyful event for them all.
She is survived by her husband of over 61 years, Alfred Schulte, Jr. of Seguin; by her daughter Donna Loth and husband Joe of Seguin and by her son Christopher of Colorado. She is also survived by grandchildren Amy Tobin Babel (John), Jason DeTeso, Megan Sharber, Stephanie Donaldson Paul, Emily Donaldson and Matthew Donaldson (Mariah); by great-grandchildren Joseph and Morgandy Babel, Vincent DeTeso and August Munzert. Other surviving family members are her sister Bennie Jean Schladoer O’Neill, brothers Richard (Patricia) and Ernest (Vivian) Schladoer, and many, many nieces and nephews.
Eulogy
Given by her son, Christopher, at the memorial service in Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Quihi, Texas, 23 Jul 2016
“I'm pleased we've all made it here to celebrate her life and her way around back home.
She's my mom-
So naturally, you could say i owe her a lot..
I owe her my life..
I owe her every question I've ever asked, and I asked a LOT!
And I owe her for every place I've ever been.
I gotta thank her for our trips to the high country since I was 2 weeks old and turns around the counties here in all weathers..
Thanks to her, now I'm always wondering what is just around the farther bend.
I owe her a fierce loyalty to friends and a sense of respect that's often forgotten these days.
I owe her my manners, and I owe her every mess I ever got into because I thought something might be unfair for somebody. Usually me.
She had this sense of duty to the folks of the world, the humbler the better. Her natural light could sometimes shine so random, that it would Leave the person in her sudden and very candid focus a little bewildered at her matter-of-fact generosity.
That never changed, right up to the end, and so we could see the veracity of her soul.
If she was afraid of anything I don't know what it was. Maybe being bored. Or seeing someone else, anyone else, in some kind of trouble.
She was always on the move; and it was work to keep up. Boy, I gave some summers to her projects!
I was shanghaied for random civic works, landscaping, remodels, and an unforgettably hot and thorough once-over of the Bandera Cemetery added to the regular chore list..
And so for that, I owe her a work ethic, and this kind of make-do know-how that she could whip out and fire at point blank range Into a troublesome thicket at the edge of the garden, or an innocent dining room wall.
She was a girl of these hills and rivers. I'm proud to say we went to the same schoolhouse, just like her ol' mum. We played the same teams, ran the same fields, and I grew up on her ground, thinking it was mine. And when I'd come home scratched, battered, soaked and with a few new freckles burnt in from a full day of explorin' the bends in the Medina and I'd tell her bout the burnt-out fortress high on the cliff above the river at the top of a hidden stair, she'd laugh and tell me bout the Silver Spur and how she used to dance up there with dad of a starry summer night. And so then She taught me to two-step.
She also taught me to speak up, to shut up.
To hold the door, and shut it behind me.
To stand up straight, and to stand up for others.
To look up,
To look forward to what's coming
Cuz it's all part of the process and part of the plan.
She knew to stick to the plan.
She knew where she came from.
And she sure knew where she was going!
I'm just thankful she passed thru here.
And I'm grateful you all came today.
I'm glad we can get together and remember her
For that shine
For a spark that could warm your heart
or start a grass fire...
Again, thanks for stopping in, Lois Ann.
Thank you for this life.
Thank you for the lens with which I can look through your eyes and mind.
We'll be seeing you.”
Lois Ann Schulte went home on July 16, 2016.
Lois Ann Schladoer Schulte was born February 24, 1936 in Bandera County, Texas, the second daughter of Benjamin and Fleta Joiner Schladoer. She grew up on the family farm on Mason Creek, and attended Bandera Schools for all twelve years, graduating from Bandera High School in 1954.
In the summer of 1954, at a baseball game in Cherry Springs, she met her best friend and soul mate, a Hondo boy named Alfred Schulte, Jr. They were married December 16, 1954 in Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Quihi, Texas. Their first child, Donna, was born just over a year later, quickly followed by Michael and Julie. 17 years after Julie’s birth, their 4th child and second son, Christopher, was born.
Lois worked in many different jobs during her life…as a waitress, a bank teller, an activities director for a nursing home and a church child care center director. She was given the opportunity to utilize her creativity by working in craft shops in Kerrville and Durango, Colorado.
Lois was a lover of plants, animals and people. She never met a stranger, and everyone could come to her for gardening advice. She was also known for her interior decoration skills, and helped many ladies rearrange their living rooms to the best advantage. She loved to travel, and road trips were her favorite way to see the country. Thrift store shopping in Kerrville became a passion in her later years.
Lois was preceded in death by her parents; by her granddaughter Megan (daughter of Donna) in 1980; by her son Michael in 1981 and daughter Julie in 2002. Their reunion must have been a most joyful event for them all.
She is survived by her husband of over 61 years, Alfred Schulte, Jr. of Seguin; by her daughter Donna Loth and husband Joe of Seguin and by her son Christopher of Colorado. She is also survived by grandchildren Amy Tobin Babel (John), Jason DeTeso, Megan Sharber, Stephanie Donaldson Paul, Emily Donaldson and Matthew Donaldson (Mariah); by great-grandchildren Joseph and Morgandy Babel, Vincent DeTeso and August Munzert. Other surviving family members are her sister Bennie Jean Schladoer O’Neill, brothers Richard (Patricia) and Ernest (Vivian) Schladoer, and many, many nieces and nephews.
Eulogy
Given by her son, Christopher, at the memorial service in Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Quihi, Texas, 23 Jul 2016
“I'm pleased we've all made it here to celebrate her life and her way around back home.
She's my mom-
So naturally, you could say i owe her a lot..
I owe her my life..
I owe her every question I've ever asked, and I asked a LOT!
And I owe her for every place I've ever been.
I gotta thank her for our trips to the high country since I was 2 weeks old and turns around the counties here in all weathers..
Thanks to her, now I'm always wondering what is just around the farther bend.
I owe her a fierce loyalty to friends and a sense of respect that's often forgotten these days.
I owe her my manners, and I owe her every mess I ever got into because I thought something might be unfair for somebody. Usually me.
She had this sense of duty to the folks of the world, the humbler the better. Her natural light could sometimes shine so random, that it would Leave the person in her sudden and very candid focus a little bewildered at her matter-of-fact generosity.
That never changed, right up to the end, and so we could see the veracity of her soul.
If she was afraid of anything I don't know what it was. Maybe being bored. Or seeing someone else, anyone else, in some kind of trouble.
She was always on the move; and it was work to keep up. Boy, I gave some summers to her projects!
I was shanghaied for random civic works, landscaping, remodels, and an unforgettably hot and thorough once-over of the Bandera Cemetery added to the regular chore list..
And so for that, I owe her a work ethic, and this kind of make-do know-how that she could whip out and fire at point blank range Into a troublesome thicket at the edge of the garden, or an innocent dining room wall.
She was a girl of these hills and rivers. I'm proud to say we went to the same schoolhouse, just like her ol' mum. We played the same teams, ran the same fields, and I grew up on her ground, thinking it was mine. And when I'd come home scratched, battered, soaked and with a few new freckles burnt in from a full day of explorin' the bends in the Medina and I'd tell her bout the burnt-out fortress high on the cliff above the river at the top of a hidden stair, she'd laugh and tell me bout the Silver Spur and how she used to dance up there with dad of a starry summer night. And so then She taught me to two-step.
She also taught me to speak up, to shut up.
To hold the door, and shut it behind me.
To stand up straight, and to stand up for others.
To look up,
To look forward to what's coming
Cuz it's all part of the process and part of the plan.
She knew to stick to the plan.
She knew where she came from.
And she sure knew where she was going!
I'm just thankful she passed thru here.
And I'm grateful you all came today.
I'm glad we can get together and remember her
For that shine
For a spark that could warm your heart
or start a grass fire...
Again, thanks for stopping in, Lois Ann.
Thank you for this life.
Thank you for the lens with which I can look through your eyes and mind.
We'll be seeing you.”
Lois Ann Schladoer Schulte was born February 24, 1936 in Bandera County, Texas, the second daughter of Benjamin and Fleta Joiner Schladoer. She grew up on the family farm on Mason Creek, and attended Bandera Schools for all twelve years, graduating from Bandera High School in 1954.
In the summer of 1954, at a baseball game in Cherry Springs, she met her best friend and soul mate, a Hondo boy named Alfred Schulte, Jr. They were married December 16, 1954 in Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Quihi, Texas. Their first child, Donna, was born just over a year later, quickly followed by Michael and Julie. 17 years after Julie’s birth, their 4th child and second son, Christopher, was born.
Lois worked in many different jobs during her life…as a waitress, a bank teller, an activities director for a nursing home and a church child care center director. She was given the opportunity to utilize her creativity by working in craft shops in Kerrville and Durango, Colorado.
Lois was a lover of plants, animals and people. She never met a stranger, and everyone could come to her for gardening advice. She was also known for her interior decoration skills, and helped many ladies rearrange their living rooms to the best advantage. She loved to travel, and road trips were her favorite way to see the country. Thrift store shopping in Kerrville became a passion in her later years.
Lois was preceded in death by her parents; by her granddaughter Megan (daughter of Donna) in 1980; by her son Michael in 1981 and daughter Julie in 2002. Their reunion must have been a most joyful event for them all.
She is survived by her husband of over 61 years, Alfred Schulte, Jr. of Seguin; by her daughter Donna Loth and husband Joe of Seguin and by her son Christopher of Colorado. She is also survived by grandchildren Amy Tobin Babel (John), Jason DeTeso, Megan Sharber, Stephanie Donaldson Paul, Emily Donaldson and Matthew Donaldson (Mariah); by great-grandchildren Joseph and Morgandy Babel, Vincent DeTeso and August Munzert. Other surviving family members are her sister Bennie Jean Schladoer O’Neill, brothers Richard (Patricia) and Ernest (Vivian) Schladoer, and many, many nieces and nephews.
Eulogy
Given by her son, Christopher, at the memorial service in Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Quihi, Texas, 23 Jul 2016
“I'm pleased we've all made it here to celebrate her life and her way around back home.
She's my mom-
So naturally, you could say i owe her a lot..
I owe her my life..
I owe her every question I've ever asked, and I asked a LOT!
And I owe her for every place I've ever been.
I gotta thank her for our trips to the high country since I was 2 weeks old and turns around the counties here in all weathers..
Thanks to her, now I'm always wondering what is just around the farther bend.
I owe her a fierce loyalty to friends and a sense of respect that's often forgotten these days.
I owe her my manners, and I owe her every mess I ever got into because I thought something might be unfair for somebody. Usually me.
She had this sense of duty to the folks of the world, the humbler the better. Her natural light could sometimes shine so random, that it would Leave the person in her sudden and very candid focus a little bewildered at her matter-of-fact generosity.
That never changed, right up to the end, and so we could see the veracity of her soul.
If she was afraid of anything I don't know what it was. Maybe being bored. Or seeing someone else, anyone else, in some kind of trouble.
She was always on the move; and it was work to keep up. Boy, I gave some summers to her projects!
I was shanghaied for random civic works, landscaping, remodels, and an unforgettably hot and thorough once-over of the Bandera Cemetery added to the regular chore list..
And so for that, I owe her a work ethic, and this kind of make-do know-how that she could whip out and fire at point blank range Into a troublesome thicket at the edge of the garden, or an innocent dining room wall.
She was a girl of these hills and rivers. I'm proud to say we went to the same schoolhouse, just like her ol' mum. We played the same teams, ran the same fields, and I grew up on her ground, thinking it was mine. And when I'd come home scratched, battered, soaked and with a few new freckles burnt in from a full day of explorin' the bends in the Medina and I'd tell her bout the burnt-out fortress high on the cliff above the river at the top of a hidden stair, she'd laugh and tell me bout the Silver Spur and how she used to dance up there with dad of a starry summer night. And so then She taught me to two-step.
She also taught me to speak up, to shut up.
To hold the door, and shut it behind me.
To stand up straight, and to stand up for others.
To look up,
To look forward to what's coming
Cuz it's all part of the process and part of the plan.
She knew to stick to the plan.
She knew where she came from.
And she sure knew where she was going!
I'm just thankful she passed thru here.
And I'm grateful you all came today.
I'm glad we can get together and remember her
For that shine
For a spark that could warm your heart
or start a grass fire...
Again, thanks for stopping in, Lois Ann.
Thank you for this life.
Thank you for the lens with which I can look through your eyes and mind.
We'll be seeing you.”
