When she was about 12 years old, Myrtie decided her name was henceforth going to be Peggy, and to her dying day refused to answer to her "real" name, so that it is something of a shock to see "Myrtie" on documents concerning her. Her stubbornness turned out to be a blessing, for it saw her through a life marked with ill health.
The fourth of William and Ada Moody's seven surviving children, Peggy was born on the family farm near Post Oak. When she was about five, the family moved to near Jermyn, also in Jack County, and on her father's death in 1922, her mother moved the family to Mineral Wells, where she had kinfolks. About two years later, Peggy began to show symptoms of arthritis, which plagued her throughout the rest of her life.
When she was nearly nineteen, Peggy survived a car wreck which left her severely lacerated: cars didn't have safety glass in those days. She required several surgeries to put her face back together. The surgeons did an excellent job, but nerve damage insured that she had a droop in her right eyelid and that side of her mouth. This affected her looks much more in her own sight than it did to others, and she became something of a recluse for several years, a situation that her younger sister Ora decided to do something about. In spite of Peggy's protests, Ora literally drug her into a blind date with Ora's husband's buddy, and it changed Peggy's life, for the younger man turned out to be no less than the love of her life, Fred Breithaupt. Fred still had something of an uphill battle, but he finally won Peggy's hand. They remained together until her death parted them. Unfortunately, they stayed childless. While Fred was away in the Army during WWII, his grandmother was stricken with cancer, and despite her own poor health, Peggy went down and helped take care of her until the end came.
In 1960, when they were living in Corpus Christi, Peggy was in another terrible car wreck, and this time she nearly died. She was to be a semi-invalid and then an invalid the rest of her life. Fred was devoted to her and took excellent care of her, hiring a nurse to stay with her when he was at work but otherwise doing everything Peggy needed done himself. Every week they could be seen out together, Fred bodily carrying her up steps in the days when there were no laws requiring wheelchair access for public buildings. Peggy had gotten over any shyness she once had, and sometimes they took longer trips, visiting relatives or enjoying the scenery. At home she kept herself occupied with books and puzzles. Television rather bored her. Peggy liked to play bingo, and the weekly bingo night at the local VFW Club saw Fred carrying her inside and even sometimes staying to play himself.
The last year of Peggy's life saw a gradual decline speed up, and she passed away at the end of January, 1984. Fred was devastated. He had her body sent to Shiner, where her mother and his folks are buried, and where he joined her three years later.
Peggy was my aunt, and I recall her as a bright-eyed lady with a soft voice and a wry sense of humor, and a quiet but deep faith (she was a Lutheran, having joined that church when she married Fred). However difficult getting around was for her, you never heard her complain. She did what she could, and never seemed to regret the rest.
The fourth of William and Ada Moody's seven surviving children, Peggy was born on the family farm near Post Oak. When she was about five, the family moved to near Jermyn, also in Jack County, and on her father's death in 1922, her mother moved the family to Mineral Wells, where she had kinfolks. About two years later, Peggy began to show symptoms of arthritis, which plagued her throughout the rest of her life.
When she was nearly nineteen, Peggy survived a car wreck which left her severely lacerated: cars didn't have safety glass in those days. She required several surgeries to put her face back together. The surgeons did an excellent job, but nerve damage insured that she had a droop in her right eyelid and that side of her mouth. This affected her looks much more in her own sight than it did to others, and she became something of a recluse for several years, a situation that her younger sister Ora decided to do something about. In spite of Peggy's protests, Ora literally drug her into a blind date with Ora's husband's buddy, and it changed Peggy's life, for the younger man turned out to be no less than the love of her life, Fred Breithaupt. Fred still had something of an uphill battle, but he finally won Peggy's hand. They remained together until her death parted them. Unfortunately, they stayed childless. While Fred was away in the Army during WWII, his grandmother was stricken with cancer, and despite her own poor health, Peggy went down and helped take care of her until the end came.
In 1960, when they were living in Corpus Christi, Peggy was in another terrible car wreck, and this time she nearly died. She was to be a semi-invalid and then an invalid the rest of her life. Fred was devoted to her and took excellent care of her, hiring a nurse to stay with her when he was at work but otherwise doing everything Peggy needed done himself. Every week they could be seen out together, Fred bodily carrying her up steps in the days when there were no laws requiring wheelchair access for public buildings. Peggy had gotten over any shyness she once had, and sometimes they took longer trips, visiting relatives or enjoying the scenery. At home she kept herself occupied with books and puzzles. Television rather bored her. Peggy liked to play bingo, and the weekly bingo night at the local VFW Club saw Fred carrying her inside and even sometimes staying to play himself.
The last year of Peggy's life saw a gradual decline speed up, and she passed away at the end of January, 1984. Fred was devastated. He had her body sent to Shiner, where her mother and his folks are buried, and where he joined her three years later.
Peggy was my aunt, and I recall her as a bright-eyed lady with a soft voice and a wry sense of humor, and a quiet but deep faith (she was a Lutheran, having joined that church when she married Fred). However difficult getting around was for her, you never heard her complain. She did what she could, and never seemed to regret the rest.
When she was about 12 years old, Myrtie decided her name was henceforth going to be Peggy, and to her dying day refused to answer to her "real" name, so that it is something of a shock to see "Myrtie" on documents concerning her. Her stubbornness turned out to be a blessing, for it saw her through a life marked with ill health.
The fourth of William and Ada Moody's seven surviving children, Peggy was born on the family farm near Post Oak. When she was about five, the family moved to near Jermyn, also in Jack County, and on her father's death in 1922, her mother moved the family to Mineral Wells, where she had kinfolks. About two years later, Peggy began to show symptoms of arthritis, which plagued her throughout the rest of her life.
When she was nearly nineteen, Peggy survived a car wreck which left her severely lacerated: cars didn't have safety glass in those days. She required several surgeries to put her face back together. The surgeons did an excellent job, but nerve damage insured that she had a droop in her right eyelid and that side of her mouth. This affected her looks much more in her own sight than it did to others, and she became something of a recluse for several years, a situation that her younger sister Ora decided to do something about. In spite of Peggy's protests, Ora literally drug her into a blind date with Ora's husband's buddy, and it changed Peggy's life, for the younger man turned out to be no less than the love of her life, Fred Breithaupt. Fred still had something of an uphill battle, but he finally won Peggy's hand. They remained together until her death parted them. Unfortunately, they stayed childless. While Fred was away in the Army during WWII, his grandmother was stricken with cancer, and despite her own poor health, Peggy went down and helped take care of her until the end came.
In 1960, when they were living in Corpus Christi, Peggy was in another terrible car wreck, and this time she nearly died. She was to be a semi-invalid and then an invalid the rest of her life. Fred was devoted to her and took excellent care of her, hiring a nurse to stay with her when he was at work but otherwise doing everything Peggy needed done himself. Every week they could be seen out together, Fred bodily carrying her up steps in the days when there were no laws requiring wheelchair access for public buildings. Peggy had gotten over any shyness she once had, and sometimes they took longer trips, visiting relatives or enjoying the scenery. At home she kept herself occupied with books and puzzles. Television rather bored her. Peggy liked to play bingo, and the weekly bingo night at the local VFW Club saw Fred carrying her inside and even sometimes staying to play himself.
The last year of Peggy's life saw a gradual decline speed up, and she passed away at the end of January, 1984. Fred was devastated. He had her body sent to Shiner, where her mother and his folks are buried, and where he joined her three years later.
Peggy was my aunt, and I recall her as a bright-eyed lady with a soft voice and a wry sense of humor, and a quiet but deep faith (she was a Lutheran, having joined that church when she married Fred). However difficult getting around was for her, you never heard her complain. She did what she could, and never seemed to regret the rest.
The fourth of William and Ada Moody's seven surviving children, Peggy was born on the family farm near Post Oak. When she was about five, the family moved to near Jermyn, also in Jack County, and on her father's death in 1922, her mother moved the family to Mineral Wells, where she had kinfolks. About two years later, Peggy began to show symptoms of arthritis, which plagued her throughout the rest of her life.
When she was nearly nineteen, Peggy survived a car wreck which left her severely lacerated: cars didn't have safety glass in those days. She required several surgeries to put her face back together. The surgeons did an excellent job, but nerve damage insured that she had a droop in her right eyelid and that side of her mouth. This affected her looks much more in her own sight than it did to others, and she became something of a recluse for several years, a situation that her younger sister Ora decided to do something about. In spite of Peggy's protests, Ora literally drug her into a blind date with Ora's husband's buddy, and it changed Peggy's life, for the younger man turned out to be no less than the love of her life, Fred Breithaupt. Fred still had something of an uphill battle, but he finally won Peggy's hand. They remained together until her death parted them. Unfortunately, they stayed childless. While Fred was away in the Army during WWII, his grandmother was stricken with cancer, and despite her own poor health, Peggy went down and helped take care of her until the end came.
In 1960, when they were living in Corpus Christi, Peggy was in another terrible car wreck, and this time she nearly died. She was to be a semi-invalid and then an invalid the rest of her life. Fred was devoted to her and took excellent care of her, hiring a nurse to stay with her when he was at work but otherwise doing everything Peggy needed done himself. Every week they could be seen out together, Fred bodily carrying her up steps in the days when there were no laws requiring wheelchair access for public buildings. Peggy had gotten over any shyness she once had, and sometimes they took longer trips, visiting relatives or enjoying the scenery. At home she kept herself occupied with books and puzzles. Television rather bored her. Peggy liked to play bingo, and the weekly bingo night at the local VFW Club saw Fred carrying her inside and even sometimes staying to play himself.
The last year of Peggy's life saw a gradual decline speed up, and she passed away at the end of January, 1984. Fred was devastated. He had her body sent to Shiner, where her mother and his folks are buried, and where he joined her three years later.
Peggy was my aunt, and I recall her as a bright-eyed lady with a soft voice and a wry sense of humor, and a quiet but deep faith (she was a Lutheran, having joined that church when she married Fred). However difficult getting around was for her, you never heard her complain. She did what she could, and never seemed to regret the rest.
Gravesite Details
According to the entry in the family Bible, written in her mother's own hand, Aunt Peggy was born in 1912.
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