Today we’re here to honor Violet. My name is Sara Fosse Boria and I’m the daughter of Wayne Fosse. Many of you may know that my dad and Violet first crossed paths when he dated her daughter, Jan, in high school. Violet just knew Wayne would be a part of her family.
She was right - life just had a different timeline in mind.
I first met Violet at a birthday party for my dad that Jan hosted at her house. She sat on the back porch with my late Grandma Donna just chatting up a storm. Neither could hear very well and my grandma was blind to boot. Somehow, they both walked away saying they’d had the most wonderful time. She also met my son, Javier, that day. And when his birthday came around the next year, she insisted that Jan dig into her purse and buy him a set of Hot Wheels , which he loved. We sent a video of my son saying, “Thank you Violet” and Jan told me Violet wanted to watch it again and again. And that’s how I know Violet. But that only represents a tiny part of her story. Today, I’d like to share the Violet I’ve come to know through the stories of the people who loved her.
Of course, we know Violet was a legendary grandmother and a loving mother, but she started life as Violet White, the beloved baby girl of six children. Violet was never afraid to get her hands dirty on the family’s dairy farm, working right alongside her father and siblings. She also worked inside the home, where she learned to cook, sew, and play the piano by ear. Violet would often tell her stories of her father, how he helped organize SE Electric and had countless other business ventures throughout his lifetime. Jan once mentioned to me that she thought her grandfather was an important man in town but whether he was or he wasn’t, she didn’t know. Regardless, Violet sure thought he was. And that is a thread that has run through every story I’ve heard about Violet - a fierce loyalty for those that she loved.
I’m not sure if it was because Violet was one of the lovely ladies in the Miss Marion Pageant or how slick she was on roller skates, but whatever it was, she caught the eye of Jack Spiller, and they skated their way to the altar in 1951. They spent many an evening at the old skating rink at the Fairgrounds before they welcomed two girls into the family - Jackie and Jan. But that didn’t stop Violet from rolling around the rink - she was known to roller skate and rock her babies at the same time. But there was much more to Violet than roller skates.
Violet was a highly skilled seamstress. She made all of her daughters’ clothes. And I mean all of them. But Violet was also one to save a penny, so she would take her girls to the remnant store to see what they could find. The smell of the dye still stings Jan’s nostrils to this day. She was also a wonderful cook. Later in life, she would be known for her cheeseburgers, her green spaghetti, her special salad dressing - but what struck me most was hearing about Sunday mornings when she was a mother of two. Before anyone else was out of bed, she had already fried the chicken, prepped the mashed potatoes, gotten everyone ready for church, and made sure Sunday dinner was waiting when they returned. She never did this with bitterness or irritation, she never did it because she had to - she did these things because taking care of the people she loved is simply who Violet was.
Violet always made sure her girls had fun. Every Friday night she would take Jackie and Jan to the Egyptian Drive In in Herrin, packing cheese crackers, bologna sandwiches, and Cokes in the glass bottle - but no mention of ice, I think it comes in later. She also loved a revival. And I mean loved a revival. When they weren’t going to the drive-in, she and her best friend Paula would drag their kids to whatever revival was happening in town. Take a ride around town with Jan and before long, she will point to a church and say, “Been to a revival there.” Violet could always sniff out a good time.
But whether she was with family, friends, or complete strangers, what people remembered most wasn’t where she was. It was how she made them feel. Because caring for people wasn’t something that Violet reserved for family. Whether she was helping customers at the bank, serving BBQ alongside Jack at their restaurant, or handing someone an ice cream cone at the Dairy Queen, taking care of people is what Violet did best…and it came naturally to her.
Another calling would find her later in life, and that’s being a grandma. Her grandchildren with birth years spanning from the late seventies to the early 2000s would bring her endless joy and laughter. She visited her grandchildren out of town as often as she could and was on the edge of her seat hearing the latest news from her youngest grandsons’ baseball games. She was so excited when she became a great grandmother, proof that her love and legacy will continue on.
No matter the time in her life, though, Violet never wanted anyone to do for her. She truly was the epitome of selflessness. For years, Jan offered to have her move in with her. Violet refused. “I’m good right here. This is just where I belong.” She never wanted anyone to pay for anything. “Don’t you pay for that,” she’d say. It was ok for Violet to buy for you, clean for you, cook for you, do for you - but you better never be caught doing anything for her. Unless, of course, it was pouring her a Coke over ice.
In her later years, Violet would find yet another calling - playing piano at the church. People would sometimes stop Jan when she was out to say, “We just loved the way she played.” But no matter where she played piano in her life, if you asked her she would simply state, “I play piano for the Lord.” Of course, Violet's faith wasn't something she kept to Sunday mornings or the piano bench. It shaped the way she loved the people around her. She prayed faithfully for her children, her grandchildren, and the people she loved. And when the time came, those closest to her knew she wasn't afraid. She spoke freely about how she was ready for Jesus to call her home.
Although I didn’t know Violet as well as many of you here today, I know enough to recognize her when I see her. Time and again, Jan would tell Violet, “Let me do that for you.” And every time, the answer was the same, “No, I’m ok,” or “Don’t you worry about that.” Violet was the happiest when she was taking care of everyone else. I happened to be visiting town the day that Violet passed and when I sat down on the couch, before she’d had a chance to think about herself or her own grief Jan said, “Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”
And in that moment, I recognized Violet. Isn’t that the remarkable thing about love like hers? It doesn’t end with one life. It lives on in the people she taught to love the same way. And somehow, I have a feeling she’d be much happier knowing we’re taking care of each other and not fussing over her for too long. So let’s take comfort today knowing that she is drinking a very bubbly coke on that good ice… playing piano for the Lord.