N. Gay Whalin

CHARLESTON, IL – Nola C. “Gay” Whalin, age 94 of Charleston, passed away on Tuesday, November 20, 2018 at Cumberland Rehabilitation and Health Care Center in Greenup, Illinois.  A Graveside Service, honoring and celebrating her life will begin at 1:00 p.m. on Saturday, December 1, 2018 at the Franklin Cemetery located in Edgar County, Illinois, north of Paris.  It is requested that donations in her honor be made to a local food pantry of the donor’s preference.  Arrangements have been entrusted to Adams Funeral Chapel in Charleston.

Gay was born June 27, 1924 in Edgar County, Illinois, a daughter of the late Joseph and Nola G. (Dennison) Crum.  Edwin A. Whalin, her husband of nearly 68 years, preceded her in death on May 29, 2016.  She is survived by three children, Kathleen Whalin and husband Bob Morris of Sanford, Maine, Dr. Brian Whalin and wife Elaine of Stockport, Ohio and Jennifer Whalin of Newton, Illinois; a former son-in-law, Kurt (Holly) Hirchert; eight grandchildren, Douglas (Bethany) Whalin, Christine Whalin, Laura Whalin, James Whalin, Megan Whalin, Janice Whalin, Bridget (Aaron) Losoff, and Gretchen Kemner; and a sister, Joan (Bill) Brazelton of Georgetown, Illinois.  In addition to her parents and husband, she was preceded in death by a daughter, Phyllis Hirchert and six siblings.

Gay was a member of Wesley United Methodist Church in Charleston, loved being a registered nurse and raising orchids.

The following is a beautifully written tribute written by Gay’s daughter, Kathleen:

It makes cosmic sense that my fiercely independent mother died just before Thanksgiving, a holiday devoted to family and gratitude.

She was named for her mother, but I think knew from the beginning that she was a true original. When she had her own children, they were deliberately named for NO ONE.

I always said my mother was a true testament to what courage, determination, and Emily Post could accomplish. After a childhood worthy of Dickens- her father lost everything in the Depression and she went to work as a hired girl before she was in her teens- she graduated from a small high school in downstate Illinois and headed north. She worked at a war plant in Joliet where she said she was "bored out of her tree." Learning that the military was training nurses for World War II, she joined the nursing corps and went into training at Silver Cross Hospital in Joliet. She chafed at the restrictions and curfew but loved the work.

Her childhood of hard work I think served her well in training. She said the students were expected to work a 12 hour shift in addition to going to classes and studying. She often went to movie matinees before duty and said she slept through many of them. But she had her eye on the prize - she was going to become a stewardess (they were required to have an RN in those days) and travel the world.

I think she enjoyed this time of her life, despite the grueling schedule. Two of her sisters were in Chicago, she and her sister Ruby would dress to the nines and meet to hear the big bands in Chicago hotels, and she was a hostess at the local USO club. She and Ruby both loved nice things and since they were the same size their wardrobes were double what either could afford alone.

Bureaucracy controls many fates.  After graduation, and while waiting for her nursing license, my mom took a job at the University of Illinois Hospital. "I decided to go where the men were rather than where they weren't."  She was staying with an aunt until housing was available for her and met my dad. The two families had married before- his uncle had married her aunt. Not one to fight family tradition, they married each other.

Instead of heading off to see the world, my mom packed a small u-haul and moved to Grand Forks, ND.  It was exotic enough - cold in the winter and blissfully cool in the summer and full of Norwegians.  She loved it. Their house was in one of those 1950s neighborhoods about which we now wax nostalgic.  It was full of young families and coffee-drinking women. They'd meet each morning for coffee and, as one of them once told me, "we were the original support group."

While she loved her kids, and later grand kids, my mother was not the sort to be defined by them. Not for her the t-shirts that said "What happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's." Most week nights found her out once my dad was home, she had church circle, she took tailoring classes, and she had her bridge group. Weekends my parents went out and we had a succession of well-bribed babysitters.Later when the family moved back to Illinois she became enmeshed in the lives of her extended family.  She would offer support and advice in equal measures, not easy for my own independent soul to take. She nursed many an ailing relative, baked legendary pies for family dinners, and showed us all that shopping was a competitive sport.

Her life was long, rich, and full of caring and concern. She was always a rock for the family. When my youngest sister was tragically killed, my mom went to the funeral in a gorgeous silk dress saying "I believe in life after death."  She was not a huggy, fuzzy person but she cared for her friends and family deeply.

She never saw the world the way she imagined in her twenties but she did see places with my dad that she'd only read about- London, Scandinavia, Russia, New Zealand. She took numerous road trips with her sisters Jan and Ruby and their husbands. The trips were grand adventures, accompanied by a genuine interest in the people around her and a good deck of cards.

I think she enjoyed her far-from-easy life. I owe her so much- although it was hard on her.  I owe her my own independence and resilience. I owe her my love of murder mysteries (I took an Agatha Christie from her bookshelf when I was 12 and never looked back). I owe her my love of nice clothes and the Queen's hats.  For her part, what I think she loved most of all was being able to help those around her - family, friends, and people she saw as being oppressed. We will all miss her but can also feel great gratitude we had her independent, caring spirit with us as long as we did. Thanks, Mom, for everything.