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One of God's Heroes, Eva Haddock Connors

Eva Haddock Connors

Tuesday, 21 September 1999

On behalf of our family, thank you all for joining us.

We have come together this morning—family and friends—to celebrate—even if at times it is through tears, the life, and the ministry of Eva Haddock Connors. During this celebration, you are going to hear from representative members of our family, her friends, and from her pastors as we remember her and her remarkable life.

The English scholar and author Frederick Farrar said “to live well in the quiet routine of life, to fill a little space because God wills it, to go on cheerfully with one’s duties and avocations; to smile for the joy of others when the heart is aching, who does this, his works will follow him. He is one of God’s heroes.”

You are going to hear a lot of stories and recollections over the next hour or so—about Eva Connors’ life, her warmth, her boundless love and devotion to her family, friends and church—and of her faith and what it meant to her. Collectively, they tell the story of how she lived well in the quiet routines of life. How she served her family and the families of others to the very best of her many abilities. How she filled a little space because God willed it…and filled it…and filled it…and filled it…with love…and patience…and humor…and generosity…and thoughtfulness…and that hard-to-define quality that our younger generation simply describes as “being there for you.”

You’ll hear how she did go cheerfully on with her duties and avocations…smiling for the joy of others when her own heart, on so many occasions, was aching. And when we’ve laughed and remembered and cried…and laughed some more…you’ll know why her family and friends will remember her as one of God’s heros.

So, sit back, relax and “listen up” as we say in the Navy. Of course, Grandma would have extended this invitation so much better.

On that front porch at the corner of Melson and Broadway, sitting on that old glider swing with a full hamper of speckled butter beans by her side, she would size you up as a potential shelling partner. Spotting a likely grandchild flying by enroute to play in the camphor tree outside, she would sing out: “Hi honey, come sit next to me and let’s talk.”

You did talk, of course, about her girlhood, growing up in Kings Ferry, what it was like “in the old days.”

You also helped her shell beans…lots of beans and peas and corn for the hungry mouths of loved ones to whom she fed literally thousands of wonderful meals for many decades.

Eva May Haddock Connors was born in 1891, on the Haddock Farm at Kings Ferry, Nassau County, Florida. She was the sixth of eleven children born to Rufus Goldwire Haddock and Mary Jane Vanzant Haddock.

Grandpa Rufus, she would tell us, “planted corn and sweet potatoes and sugar cane. He also had a large vegetable garden and grew every kind of vegetable you might want,” Grandma told us during those shelling sessions.

She also told us about her brothers and sisters: Mary Jane Haddock Campbell, Zona Haddock Walker, Zack Haddock, Bill Haddock, Jennie Haddock Rowe, Paul Goldwire Haddock, Harley Haddock, and David Miller Haddock.

The Haddock children helped their father and mother raise cattle, sheep and hogs, plus grow the vegetables they needed.

Money was not that much of a necessity, Eva’s niece Wilma Walker remembered. “Farmers could almost survive on the fruits of the land. Poverty was unknown. A good livelihood was a way of life. Wealth was measured, more or less, by tangible holdings, not dollars in the bank. If they were poor, they were not aware of it. It was a good time to go barefoot, she remembered. There were horses to ride, trees to climb and wild grape vines were used as trapeze wires. Fruits, especially the scuppernong grape, were for the picking, watermelon galore, fresh vegetables, milk and sweet butter. There was no need for summer camp. We had it there. Farmers worked hard, but it was a good, wholesome life, rewarding in many ways, an era and life style now erased by progress and covered by the sands of time.”

Zack and Eva seemed to have a special bond.

Zack was eight years older than Eva. When she was about seven years old, the Haddock family was eating the heavy breakfast that farm families needed to “hold them” until lunch—biscuits and grits and bacon and eggs—“and like that to carry you through,” Grandma explained.

Zack always like to eat syrup with his biscuit, and as Grandma related to me, “he laid a piece of sausage back to take the sweet taste out of his mouth…and I got Zack’s last piece of sausage. And until I got married, whenever I’d ask Zack for a favor, he’d say, “No, you ate my sausage!” Zack’s “grudge” became a favorite family story.

You’ll hear many more Mama stories or Grandma stories or Miss Eva stories today. It helps us share special times…and people.

When Eva married Arch Connors, she asked him, “Zack, do you still hold that grudge?”

“No,” he said, “I forgive you,” and they both laughed.

On another occasion, the Rufus Haddock kids were out digging sweet potatoes when Zack announced, “I’ll give you permission all afternoon to see if you can hit me with one of these potatoes.” Saying that, he stuck his head down between his legs.

He hadn’t reckoned on brother Harley, probably not meant to be part of the bargain, who picked up a potato and as Grandma related—when she could stop laughing—“chunked it as hard as he could” at the too tempting target of Zack’s grinning face between his legs.

Grandma would finally control herself and say, “Harley just threw it that way and it went right there and hit him on the nose…”

[Always much laughter from us kids.]

“Took a whack out of it.”

[Much more laughter from the kids…and the grownups present.]

“Mashed it all up.”

[Screams of laughter by this time.]

As for poor Zack, he hollered, “Who hit that nose?” as his brother and sisters doubled up in laughter.

“We never did let that joke die,” Grandma said. And, she was right, here we are sharing that family story once more about a century after it happened.

On Eva’s fifteenth birthday, her mother told those nursing her to “tell the girls to come here,” she wanted to talk to them.

“She told us to be good,” Grandma told me.

“I never thought about her dying, you know, then, we thought she was just sick.”

Mary Jane died that February 17th in 1906 after asking Eva to take good care of her younger brothers, Paul, Harley and Miller. She did as her mother asked…she was a good wife, mother and Christian…and throughout the rest of her life she shared a special bond with her three younger brothers.

In 1912, Eva married “the boy down the street,” in this case a handsome Kings Ferry youth six years her senior,“Arch”…for Archibald…Connors.

A brief out-of-state job for Arch in New Jersey with a railroad affiliate, accounts for why their son, Woodrow, is the only native of Elizabeth, New Jersey…with a Southern accent.

After they returned to Jacksonville in 1914, they moved to Woodstock Park where they raised seven children: Woodrow, Julia, Gerry, Lucille, Mary Elizabeth, Florence and Archie.

Following Arch’s death in 1959, she continued her church-related activities—she was a member of Woodstock Park Baptist Church for over 80 years, serving in many church offices and as a Sunday school teacher.

She also began to travel as a way to stay in touch with her increasingly far flung family, which now includes 74 direct descendents.

Faith and I enjoyed her visits with us and our daughters—Karen and Miriam--over the years in Newport, Rhode Island, Stamford, Connecticut and Bowie, Maryland. Her travels eventually took her to all fifty states and many foreign countries, including several visits to the Holy Land, the last when she was 99 years old. Her extraordinary health and determination enabled her to keep her own house in Woodstock Park until she was 101.

On one occasion, when she was in her Nineties, Faith and I had been over to dinner, after which she got out the photo albums. Eva Connors was thrifty. She noticed we were squinting at the photos with the light from what was, at most, a forty-watt bulb or two. Getting up quickly, she left us engrossed in the photographs. Not paying much attention to what she was doing for a moment or so, when we looked up we were astonished to see her get up on the table to put in a stronger light bulb.

Instinctively, we stood up and urged her to get down and to let one of us—you know who that would be—get up there to change the bulb. Reluctantly, she got down, not really needing our help. “Tracy,” she said with her very special smile, “You’re going to make an old woman out of me.”

After she moved to Riverside Presbyterian House she became the best known of its residents as a result of several news articles that profiled her humor and practical philosophy.

Four years ago I was asked by the Gold Star Mothers to speak to them on the 54th Anniversary of the Congressional Resolution that established their organization for American mothers having a son or daughter killed in the line of duty. In Arlington National Cemetery, a stone’s throw from the Tomb of the Unknowns, Faith and I joined the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and other dignitaries to honor those who had suffered the supreme sacrifice of motherhood in the loss of their sons and daughters serving in our Armed Forces.

I brought them greetings from one of the oldest of America’s Gold Star mothers, Eva Haddock Connors.

I told them the story of her youngest son, Air Force Lieutenant Archie Connors. Just a few years older than I, to me he was bigger than life, a handsome, dashing hero with a devilish sense of humor. I described for them how he was killed in action while covering the rescue of a downed Navy pilot.

I was thinking of both Archie and his mother when I reminded them that courage consists not in hazarding without fear, but in being resolute in a just cause. I quoted Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay on Heroism, to emphasize that the characteristic of genuine heroism is its persistency.

“All men have wandering impulses, fits, and starts of generosity. But when you have resolved to be great, abide by yourself, do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world. The heroic cannot be the common, nor the common be heroic.”

Each of those in that audience and many of you with us today has an “Archie” or “Mike.” Like Archie, they weren’t planning to be heroes. They didn’t think they were heroes, but their deeds proved otherwise. They showed their nobility through sacrifice for country and fellow man.

In our country, nobility is not something born to, but rather, an honor we confer on them in recognition of their deeds. Heroes don’t go to special schools, but they did grow up in privileged families—just like yours. Families led by parents, such as Arch and Eva…and you…who taught them by example how to make difficult decisions about what is right and wrong…and what they are willing to do about it…and, what they are willing to sacrifice for a cause or ideal that is bigger than they are.

One final thought I shared with them is that heroes haven’t all served in the military. We can find heroes all around us—if we just look.

Our Archie and our Navy LT Woodrow Michael Connors, who stayed with his jet and gave his life to protect El Paso, Texas civilians, are heroes to be sure.

We also find heroes in our classrooms, underpaid and overburdened, educating the next generation of Americans.

We find them in squad cars, risking their lives to keep us safe from crime. We find them in our emergency and social services organizations, sacrificing their free time while giving of themselves and their talents to serve the needs of others.

And there are heroes here today that our family wishes to recognize. For example, Mrs. Barbara Whitten, the manager of Riverside Presbyterian House. Grandma called Lorene Carter her “angel.” Lorene, we will always remember your care and concern for her. Ethel Griffin, the head of assisted living at Riverside, helped ensure grandma was able to remain in her apartment for as long as possible. Joann and Vernon White are our heroes for helping her get to church as often as possible. Archie Jackson and his family’s singing ministry were a constant joy to her.

Grandma loved music. She taught herself to play the organ when she was in her Seventies.

Charlie and Vivian Jackson and Jane Long have been friends to our family for so long they’re surely kinfolks by now. And Rev. Arnold and Rev. Boals, your ministry and spiritual support over the years meant so very much to her.

We can find heroes—God’s heroes all around us—and we should find them—and honor them. We should try to become more like them. America is full of nobility, if we just look for it. Often, our hero’s deeds go unrecognized. However, this in no way lessens their nobility or their courage in sacrificing for something they believe in.

My grandmother, I told the Gold Star Mothers, would quote the scripture telling us that the richest reward goes to those whose good deeds and good works are kept away from public display. If this is the case, we can be proud and thankful that so many of our citizens are laying up for themselves treasures in heaven. These Americans, like so many of you here today, are truly heroes and it doesn’t take a medal or a Congressional Resolution to prove it.

Unlike Emerson’s characterization, Grandma did not consciously resolve to be great. She became so in our eyes because she remained true to her beliefs and her faith--never reconciling herself with the world. She obeyed her own conscience; but she did so with a consummate grace that avoided offending others whose values differed from hers.

Grandma’s oldest grandchild, Kathryn McCluskey, could not be here today. However, she sends her love…and a memory she has asked that I share with you.

Kathryn wrote: When she was questioned about her childhood dreams and aspirations, Grandma said she had always wanted to be a missionary. She wasn't able to go to Africa or South America when she grew up, so she opened a missionary station at her dining room table. After the dishes were done, her well-worn Bible would come out and the plan of salvation would be explained. One night when I was nine years old, the Holy Spirit joined us in Grandma's dining room. It came over us in a rush and I couldn't stop laughing and weeping at the same time. It was the most thrilling and vivid experience of my life. When I grew up and moved to the Northwest, Grandma would come to visit me and she always brought her "dining room" missionary station with her. Each of my children knelt with her in prayer and heard her testimony. Her love of God was so strong that it was woven into her personality. When she would ask a perfect stranger about the state of his soul, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. My constant thought,” Kathryn said, “is that when we all get to Heaven, what a lovely place it will be, because she's there.”

Grandma had another quality that our daughter, Miriam pointed out: when she was with you, you had the feeling you were very special. In fact, if the truth be known, you thought you were her favorite. Thank you for that memory, Miriam.

So now, as Grandma’s favorite grandchild, I’ll conclude these remarks so the celebration can continue. Later, you’ll hear from my cousins, Gerry Connors and Claude Spink, who think that THEY were her favorites.

Come to think of it, she did bake an awful lot of ginger snaps for Gerry. And she did let Bruce drive the red Plymouth more than I did. And she seemed to give David more cinnamon buns. Of course, that’s how David got started in finance….counting the rolls in pans of cinnamon buns in Grandma’s kitchen.

And now that I think of it, she sure spent a lot of time out in Idaho and Oregon with Kathryn.

Clearly, I was a bit premature in thinking I was her favorite. Meanwhile, I know that each of you who knew and loved her are just as sure that YOU were her favorite. And you know what? You’re right!

Some how, we all were. We fed our spirits and souls with the warmth of her love for a blessedly long time. For that we will be thankful throughout our lives, no matter how long we live.

We knew she would have to leave us one day. But we sure will miss Eva Haddock Connors, one of God’s very special…and irreplaceable heroes.

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© 2007 Tracy D. Connors