Phyllis Howdeshell Roberts

Phyllis Howdeshell Roberts, a/k/a “Mimi” and “Great Mimi,” died on Thursday, July 31, 2025, at the age of 90 after a long battle with Alzheimer’s, surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and caretakers at her Summer House Parc Provence residence in Slidell, LA.  She was born in Avon Park, FL, on November 18, 1934, and grew up in Moore Haven, FL, the third of four children of Archie Owen Howdeshell and Inez Bramlett Howdeshell.  

She is survived by her daughters, Kim Roberts Casey (Michael Casey) of Abita Springs, LA, and Nan Roberts Eitel (Robert S. Eitel) of Alexandria, VA, as well as four grandchildren, Sarah Casey Hicks (Lin Hicks) of Deer Lodge, MT; Madeline Casey Kirby (Zane Kirby) of New Orleans, LA; Grant Roberts Casey (Kristen Hinton Casey) of Huntersville, NC; and Makin James Eitel of Alexandria, VA.  Great Mimi is also survived by seven great grandchildren:  Camryn, Wyatt, and Sloane Hicks of Deer Lodge, MT; Grayson, Beckham, and Hayes Kirby of New Orleans, LA; and Colette Casey of Huntersville, NC.  She is also survived by her brother Eric Howdeshell of Holt, MO.  Phyllis was predeceased by her parents; her husband, James Byron Roberts, Jr.; her sisters, Wanda H. Womack and Nelda Romig Nuffer; her half-brother, Cleon Rollins; and her in-laws, Dorothy Nail Roberts and James “Bill” Byron Roberts.

Phyllis left Moore Haven in 1952 for Charity Hospital School of Nursing in New Orleans “(CHS”), from which she ultimately graduated in 1958—only after CHS changed the policy that disallowed married nursing students and that had required her to withdraw after her 1954 marriage.  She thus completed her nursing studies while pregnant with her oldest daughter, Kim, while her husband remained in Memphis, TN, completing his education.  She was truly a woman before her time.  Along the way, she also lived briefly in Lake Charles, LA, and Oakdale, LA, before settling in Baton Rouge, LA, for most of her adult life, where she worked as an RN at Baton Rouge General Hospital for more than 25 years.  She retired to Slidell, LA, in 2011.

Phyllis was endlessly curious, genuinely creative, and seemingly fearless, and she loved to learn, to travel, and to problem-solve throughout her long life.  She was also thrifty, resilient, and determined, although some might say Dutch stubborn.  Those qualities served her well throughout her life, particularly as she was a widow for 48 years and left to rear and educate her then teenaged daughters alone and to care for her mother- and father-in-law for many years.

Her family has many fond memories of her adventures and projects.  For example, in the early 1970s when most homes had only one phone on the kitchen wall, she determined that her family needed a phone in the family room, too.  The phone company back then would not go into the unfinished attic to install a phone line, but one very helpful BellSouth technician told her how she could do it.  So, on one Sunday afternoon, she swung from the rafters, dropped a phone line down the inside of a wall, drilled an exit path for the line below, and installed the jack.  At one point, when slightly stymied, she called the technician who had generously given her his home phone number, and he was so impressed that he came over on his own time to inspect her work and to advise her how to finish the project.  Mission accomplished, and the family had a cutting-edge telephone not on the kitchen wall.

Although she worked full-time as a nurse once her children were in school—not common in the 1960s-70s—she still managed to chaperone field trips by working a 3-11 p.m. shift after a full day’s field trip and to create and to lead PTA projects, such as the terrifying haunted house at the school Halloween carnival and the Easter egg basket fundraiser she spearheaded, where she used her nursing skills to put Plaster of Paris over inflated balloons, let them cure, pasted with colored tissue paper, and then cut the orb into the cutest egg-shaped Easter basket you’ve ever seen.  In fact, she also used her skills from orthopedic surgeries to build all sorts of things (in a thrifty way, of course), such as round tables out of discarded grocery crates and fabric-covered, padded headboards out of 2x4s, plywood, and pool noodles.

Perhaps second only to her love of family was her love of information and newspapers and sharing that, in particular, with her grandchildren and their friends.  All of them remember Mimi sharing news and trivia, even when the sharing was not always readily welcomed by teenagers.  And once Nan relocated to the Washington, DC, area, after Hurricane Katrina, Mimi took up part-time residence there and fearlessly navigated the DC bus and Metro system solo to visit every museum or public space one could imagine, as well as hopped on Amtrak to New York on several occasions and the auto train to Florida on others—well into her late 70s.

During the Casey children’s elementary-high school years, she rarely missed a softball, baseball, or basketball game and even before that was a reliable weekend presence in Slidell caring for and doting on them.  And while Sarah, Madeline, and Grant were LSU students in the 2000s, she cooked for and hosted them and their friends at her Baton Rouge home just about every Sunday for dinner—a chance for the collegians to get out of the dorms and partake of a real meal and a delight for her to remain connected to her beloved grandchildren and their friends.  She was Mimi “by blood” to her grandchildren, but she was Mimi “by affection” to dozens of their friends through the years.

As serious as she was about always learning and trying something new, Phyllis enjoyed many established favorites, such as NFL and college football, often running from the kitchen when sound erupted during a game on the tv in the family room.  One or two meals might have been burned as a result, notwithstanding that she was an accomplished cook, who thoroughly embraced Louisiana cuisine despite not being a native.  And during her time in 1950s Memphis, she saw Elvis around town in his early years and remained a lifelong fan—and took her children to Elvis concerts at LSU in the 1970s when Elvis was not considered cool.

One of her greatest joys in life that remained even with her failing memory was her extended “Florida Family” from whence she came—so many beloved aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, and nieces born of the Florida Heartland.  She may have grown up poor in material things, but she was rich in the enveloping love, laughter, and fellowship of her Florida Family throughout her nine decades.  Even in her last days, the daughter, granddaughters, and great grandchildren of one of her dearest “Florida Family” cousins, who departed this Earth just a few weeks earlier than she, were able to visit and to say farewell, with the result that second, third, and even fourth cousins shared time together.

Finally, we must revisit her unerring, lifelong thriftiness.  Just after Phyllis died on the morning of July 31, the family realized that, once again, she was staying true to that value until the end.  She paid for a full month of services, minus only a few hours, and no more.  Mimi was fittingly thrifty to the end and leaves a legacy of devoted and loving service and boundless curiosity.  All in all, a life well lived.