OBITUARY Eunice Amelia Chapman January 5, 1927 – October 1, 2018 ‘I WAS YOUNG AND NOW AM OLD, YET I HAVE NEVER SEEN THE RIGHTEOUS FORSAKEN OR THEIR CHILDREN BEGGING BREAD. ’ Psalms 37:25 I was born January 5,1927 in Whittier, California to Irvine and Mary Frances Hixon. They named the last of their children, Eunice Amelia.
I have never been especially fond of either name, but I’m told that I might have been called “Mackay” after a family friend, so I guess the ultimate choice is, after all, more acceptable. They tell me that when I was 3 months old we moved to Escondido, California. I just went along with my parents, 2 sisters and 2 brothers, having no real choice in the matter.
How good God has been to me! Since I made the conscious decision to let Him have control of my life, He has never failed me. That was in 1942.
Leonard Eilers, known as The Cowboy Evangelist, was the preacher during our Spring Revival meetings at the First Baptist Church. I was baptized on Easter Sunday of that year. Our home in Escondido was a 5-acre citrus ranch, mostly lemons and oranges, but also plums, raspberries, a couple of walnut trees and several avocado trees.
We also had a cow, goats, rabbits and chickens and a collie named Lassie. We weren’t exactly plush with money, but I don’t remember ever having to go to bed hungry. Sometimes we had only bread and milk for supper, but we could have as much as we wanted.
Mother would usually fry a rabbit for our Sunday dinner and often, in season, avocado ice cream for dessert. We couldn’t give the fruit away since almost everyone had a tree or two in the valley, so she would use them in every conceivable way. They are still a favorite fruit of mine, especially mashed on toast.
Yum! Our next door neighbors were the Tylers. They had children near my sister and my ages, so we did our ‘child’ things together.
There was a hill behind our place where we would hike to the top on summer days, taking along our lunch. We considered ourselves to be true adventurers as we tracked through Indian Paintbrush and a myriad of brightly colored field flowers scattered all over the hill. On Fall evenings we would build a fire in an open space in the orchard, with adult supervision of course, and roast ears of corn.
With butter from our cow dripping down our chins and the anticipation of roasting marshmallows to follow, we were totally satisfied with the world and our place in it. In summer we often traveled the 22 miles to Oceanside for a day at the beach. Our church always had a group outing on the 4th of July.
We all took food to share…tamale pie, fried chicken (or rabbit), baked beans, salads, watermelon and homemade ice cream. While the women were preparing the food, the men sat around talking about crops, how the weather might affect them and how they would have a better government if only they were in charge. We children were cavorting in the water and building sandcastles only to have the next big wave wipe out all our efforts.
When it was dark, fireworks were launched off the end of the long pier amongst “oohs” and “aahs”, always ending in our flag in bright colors spilling over the side. ln late summer we would drive to Julian where pears and peaches were grown. Mother would buy several boxes of each fruit for canning.
How good they were during the winter months. We also would drive to Mt. Palomar, which for years was the site of the world’s largest telescope.
If we went during the winter, we’d stop for some play in the snow. That was a special treat for us since we never had snow where we lived. Our home was 3 miles from town, so we rode the bus to school.
There were only two Schools, Grammar and High School. Escondido at that time had a population of about 5000. lt had one drug store, “Rexall”, a dry-goods store called The Mercantile and a dime store where all sorts of goodies could be bought for a dime, or even a nickel.
There were a couple of grocery stores, a car dealership…maybe two. It was a sweet town to grow up in, and I’m glad to have experienced it. I wasn’t really aware of the effects of the depression in 1929-32 at my young age, but it did effect our family.
My father was a painter-paperhanger. People were not spending money on home improvements just then, so he had few jobs. My mother, who was a registered nurse found work as a county nurse to supplement the family’s income.
Her job took her away from home, sometimes for several days at a time. The common practice for hospital patients was to spend their recovery time in their own homes. Mother would stay in the home as attending nurse, often taking on the role of cook, housekeeper and surrogate mother as well.
My sister and I would be farmed out to friends of the family. In my case, I stayed with Mrs. Peet. She had a boy my age, Russell, with whom I had lots of good times just being kids without a lot of cares.
Among my early memories is “Dad” Drake. I remember riding in his 1932 DeSoto, sort of a coffee-with-cream color. How grand I felt!
It was the nicest car our family had ever had. We would drive to San Diego on Saturdays to Lindberg Field and watch the airplanes take off and land. On the way, if we saw a piece of wood on the side of the road, Mother would have him stop to pick it up.
We were just coming out of the depression and it was a time for finding ways to save on expenses (The wood warmed our home). He married my mother when I was 6 years old. When Mother had to be away from home, he supplied the care in form of hugs as I nestled in his arms.
His loving care was one reason I so easily understood the love of my heavenly Father as I grew older. He lived only three years with us before his death. About that time I discovered reading.
I remember spending many a summer afternoon tucked in a shady corner of our yard with a book. My favorites were “Heidi”, “Ramona”, “Little Women” and the Zane Gray novels. When I wasn’t reading, I would often be found walking behind the plow Raymond was working.
The rich, cool dirt he had just turned over was wonderful to my hot, bare feet. When he was ready to return to the barn, I got to ride on the horse. Wow!
How HIGH up that was. Believe me, I held on for dear life. The other book that had much influence on my life was the Bible Story Book which our family read together each night and taught me that God can use anyone, warts and all if we just make ourselves available to Him.
I loved the stories of the heroes…David, Daniel, Joshua, Elijah and others. Much later in life I realized that these people were as human as I, that they had no special power of their own to accomplish their extraordinary feats. Their ability lay in their availability to God.
It is His power that resulted in their grand deeds of derring-do. James tells ln in Chapter 5 of his letter that “Elijah was a man with a nature like ours”, yet we read of the astonishing things he did because he chose to let God use him (I Kings). Oh, that I would be such an instrument of God’s glory.
It was a special time when it was my turn to voice the prayer, even my childish one. When I was little I had very curly hair. When my older sister, Frances, would try to comb it, the tangles would make me cry.
After one stormy session I decided I had had enough. I took all the combs and brushes in the house and buried them in the cactus garden in front of our house. I finally had to confess my misconduct, they were retrieved, washed thoroughly and once again, applied to my hair.
(They might have applied one of the brushes to another place on my anatomy, a little lower down. ) BTV (Before television), the radio was our entertainment. Among our favorite shows were Jack Benny, Amos ‘N Andy …we didn’t consider the racial aspect, they were just good comedians…One Man’s Family, Lum and Abner, Vick and Sade, Fibber McGee and Molly, Major Bowes Amateur Hour.
We also played card games, but not with regular cards. They were ‘gambler tools’. Our cards were Flinch, Rook and Old Maid.
Our Church was the center of our social life. We attended every Sunday, all services, and usually any Mid-week service as well. I looked forward to Sunday School where the teacher would tell us the Old Testament stories using cardboard figures in the ‘wilderness’ sand box.
She also used flannelgraph as a teaching aid. The stories came alive as she showed us how God worked out His purposes through ordinary people. There was no such thing as children’s church, so we were in the 11:00 worship service with our parents.
We learned the value of family worship by being a part of it. When we got home Sunday evening, we’d tum on the radio for “One Man’s Family”, the story of a rich San Francisco family. Their house was near a sea-wall where the members would go to think out their problems.
I always dreamed of having such a place someday, sea-wall and all. It seemed so elegant. While we listened, we usually had a big bowl of popcorn, smothered with butter.
Popcorn is still my favorite snack, but the butter is taboo. At Christmas we would go caroling-early Christmas Sunday morning, then return to the church for a waffle breakfast. There was always a Christmas program, shepherds in bathrobes, angels with tinsel crowns and wise men wearing glittering crowns, etc.
After the program, all the children were given colorful little boxes with an assortment of hard candy and one Old Fashioned Chocolate Drop. We knew there was no actual Santa Clause, that Christmas is a celebration of Jesus’ birth, and it didn’t spoil our excitement when some of our friends talked about waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve, Easter was special time, too. My sister and I got to buy new dresses and shoes.
One year I remember having a peach-colored orangey dress…another year a blue one. . .
and always, patent leather Mary Jane shoes. These would be our Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes ’til next year. So many good memories of those early days…the World Exposition in San Diego’s Balboa Park.
The feature I remember best was a midget village, built just the right size to accommodate the troupe of Midget People who were there. I was fascinated! Here were adult people, yet some not even as tall as I and their children like dolls.
My sister and I slept in an addition built onto the house which we called the screen porch. This room was wood about five feet from the floor and screening from there to the ceiling. There were heavy canvas coverings which could be lowered in place during the cooler months.
It was never really cold in So. California but we thought it was, so on school mornings we would dash to the dining room where we had left our clothes to warm the night before, get as close to the wood stove as we could without burning ourselves, and dress as quickly as we could. Saturday night was ‘bath night’.
Other nights we took sponge baths. On Saturday the big washday tub was brought into the kitchen, placed next to the stove and filled with warm water. The youngest got to go first…one of the times I was happy being the baby of the family.
When it got too murky, it had to be dumped and refilled. A few years later, our house was plumbed for running water and a real bathroom with a great, deep tub appeared. Also, an inside toilet replaced the house at the end of the path which we had furnished with out-dated Sears and Roebuck catalogs.
There are so many memories! During Summer when school was out, Dorothy and I would be invited to spend a few weeks with our Aunt Anna who lived in La Jolla near the ocean. Every morning we would go down to play in the surf until Aunt Anna called us for breakfast.
Back to the beach during the day. A dream world for a couple of kids. Occasionally we would be allowed to sleep on the beach all night…an adventure we looked forward to.
It really wasn’t all that comfortable…the sand can be deceivingly hard, but it was a lark to us. I’ve tried to write in a logical sequence, but some of these events continued through the beginning of school as well as before I started school in the Fall before I was six, the minimum age. The school board accepted me on the merit of Dorothy’s record.
Because she was a good student, I was allowed to begin early. That made me the youngest in my classes all through school. My first grade teacher was Miss Daisy Thompson.
I enjoyed school. Spelling and reading was easy for me as was simple arithmetic. In later years, math was not one of my best subjects.
Somewhere in those years, I broke one of the Ten Commandments. I had gone with my mother to the grocery store as I often did. While she was paying the bill and the grocer was bagging the groceries, my attention was caught by a box of penny suckers.
They were so colorful…red, green, purple, yellow, all wrapped in clear cellophane. I needed one, didn’t I? Believing Mother would say she couldn’t afford to buy one for me, I pocketed one.
I think it was purple. No problem so far. However, when we got in the car, I sat in the back with the groceries.
I wasn’t very smart. Instead of waiting to get home where I could go off by myself to enjoy my ill-gotten treasure, I started to unwrap the candy. Cellophane, unlike our modern day Saran Wrap, is very stiff and crackly.
Mother heard the noise and asked me what I was doing. I had no choice but to show her. Knowing she hadn’t paid for it, she turned the car around and went back to the store.
She took me in and made me give the sucker back to the grocer with a tearful apology. It was just a penny candy, but it taught me a valuable lesson in personal responsibility. At that time I just knew I had sinned against the grocer.
Since then, I have learned that any sin, however slight we might consider it, is a sin against God, and when we sin against Him we lose the precious fellowship we have until we ask for forgiveness and cleansing. Then, as Charles Spurgeon said, “How sweet to be outdone, overcome and overwhelmed by the astonishing grace of the Lord, our God! ” My elementary school days were generally unremarkable.
I was able to secure the job of serving the teachers their lunch in their private dining area. Because of this I was given my lunch free, thus helping my family with that expense. The only event of distinction was an award I was given by the American Legion as the “Outstanding Student” of that year on graduation day.
Boy! Was I surprised! I received my first ‘romantic’ valentine when I was 14, It was a sweet verse from a boy I was ‘aware’ of since the 3rd grade.
I wish I had kept it. We were friends all through high school…never really “an item”, but we had some good times together at church as well as school. I value the memories.
For a couple of years l worked at the orange packing house. Because of the war many of the regular workers were gone, so young people, 16 years or older were recruited. We were paid a basic wage of fifty cents an hour plus so much per box.
It wasn’t much but it was my first job and the money felt good in my pocket. In my senior year, the Bell Telephone Co. came to the school, recruiting girls to be switchboard operators. My best friend, Regina Bergen, and I signed up.
After graduation, having spent 6 weeks in training we were sent to the San Diego office. Regina’s parents had moved there by then, so I lived with them. It was while working for that company that I learned a business woman should reflect the image of the employer.
It stayed with me through the rest of my working days. When I was a sophomore, Pearl Harbor was bombed. Because the war brought young men from all over the U.S. to the military bases near San Diego, we had the opportunity to meet some of them.
They were so young, most just out of high school themselves. Mother invited 2 or 3 almost every Sunday to our home. 3 of these became more or less regulars and were special friends to myself, Dorothy and her friend Helen.
Her friend, Martin Ener, was killed on Tarawa. Like the opening lines of “A Tale Of Two Cities, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. We had “meatless” Tuesday, no butter, gasoline was rationed, no nylons and almost every family had someone in the service.
Little banners with stars on them would hang in the window of families with men serving Their country…one star for each serviceman. The country was united, willing to make small sacrifices for the good of all, but, of course, what we did was nothing to the sacrifice of so many fine young men. When the end finally came, we were sure it was the last war, peace had come to stay, but Christians know better, don’t we?
There will be no lasting peace until the Prince of Peace returns. In January of 1945, Dorothy wanted to move to Seattle to be near when her husband, Glen, was in port for a few days. He was serving in the Merchant Marine Service.
She Had a 5 year old girl and was pregnant also. She was understandably anxious about going to Seattle by herself, so she asked me if I would be interested in helping her move. It sounded like a great adventure since we had never been farther from home than Tijuana, Mexico.
With that Great Adventure in front of us, we took off. The day we left, going through Long Beach (Calif), I was driving a little too fast for California’s Finest, The CHP. He gave me a ticket of course.
When we got to Seattle, a letter had been forwarded to me from the LA county court, stating the amount of my fine and the day I should appear if I wanted to contest it. I didn’t have the money to pay the whole fine, so I sent a portion of it back with a letter saying I would pay the remainder as soon as I could. Some days later, another letter came.
Oh, boy! Am I in trouble! To my surprise, the letter said in essence, “Forget it.
The court considers your obligation to the State of California to be satisfied”. Wow! We found Seattle and the Puget Sound area to be such a contrast to So.
California. Evergreens of every species…bright Azaleas and Rhododendrons in the spring and green year around. We were impressed with the beauty and cleanliness of the city.
I went to work for the Veterans Administration instead of transferring to the telephone company there. In August of 1945 the war ended and young men started returning to their homes. One of the returnees was Edward Chapman who had been serving in England with the Army Air Corp.
His parents were members of the same church Dorothy and I attended. It was not long before we started dating and in May of 1946 we were married. Several months later he was invited to join Glen in his lumber business in Eugene, Oregon.
While there, our son David was born. I had a beautiful pregnancy, never experiencing morning sickness or other discomforts except the actual delivery. I had the privilege of naming our first child, so I chose David (Beloved of God) and Michael (Warrior of God).
It was my prayer that he would become both during his lifetime. When he was nine months old, Ed began having a persistent rash. The doctor diagnosed it as Fir allergy, so he had to leave the lumber job.
He rejoined the U.S. Air Force and was assigned to Travis AFB near Vallejo, Calif. Almost immediately he was sent to be a part of the Berlin Airlift which ferried essential goods into Berlin during the Russian blockade. David and I continued to live in Vallejo while Ed was gone.
During our time in the Air Force we moved every 2-3 years. Places included California, Germany, South Carolina, and Missouri where in May, 1963, Ed retired after 20 years and 1 day service. While he was in Germany, David and I were able to join him there.
We traveled there on the H.M.S. General Rose with several hundred other service wives and children, and were met in Hamburg by Ed. We lived in a small village named Freising in Bavaria, the most beautiful part of Germany. Everywhere are postcard pastoral scenes, alpine valleys and mountains that seem to touch the sky.
It’s just like the home of ‘Heidi’, one of my favorite storybook characters. I expected to see Shirley Temple with her Grandfather at any time. We were able to do some traveling in country, to Paris and to Belgium where we found Flanders Field, the WW I cemetery made famous by John McCraes’s poem, In Flanders Field…”The poppies blow between the crosses, row on row.
”. We also visited one of the WW II cemeteries where thousands of Americans are buried. The cemeteries are very well kept.
We were rotated home in1954 to be stationed in Charleston, S.C. It is a lovely state with cordial people, but humid and hot in the summer and humid and cold during winter months. I was glad when we got assigned to Hamilton AFB near San Francisco.
We lived in San Rafael, Marin County, but went across the incomparable Golden Gate bridge to visit our favorite places, Golden Gardens and Fisherman’s Wharf, ride the “little cable cars that climb up to the stars” and some of the National Parks nearby. My favorite was the Muir Woods, a small park, but with impressive, stately Redwoods. It was a spiritual experience for me when I considered the Creator who made such beauty for our pleasure.
Our next tour of duty was in Long Beach, Calif. We bought our first home in nearby Garden Grove. Part of the time Ed was in school in Chicago, so once more it was just David and I. In 1960 Ed informed us that he would be transferred to Whiteman AFB in Missouri.
He said it was near Knobnoster. We thought he was kidding about the name, but when there, we were welcomed by the warmth of the people in the farming community. In 1963 Ed retired at Whiteman AFB.
We traveled by car to Seattle where his dad lived. We stayed with him until August while Ed looked for a job. He went to work for Seattle Transit System as a coach operator.
We moved to our own apartment in the Magnolia district of Seattle and enrolled David in Queen Anne High School for his final two years. In March of 1964, Ed’s dad had a stroke and had to be taken care of in a nursing home. Ed’s sisters didn’t feel they could contribute to the cost so in May of that year, I went to work at SafeCo Insurance Co. I worked there for 17 years before leaving to serve as our church secretary at Brookhaven Baptist Church.
It was a decision to be made…whether to stay 3 more years for a pension, but I felt the opportunity to serve in this ministry was a definite leading from God, so it was an easy choice. While there, I worked with 5 pastors, aII different personalities, but men of God. One of them, Alvin Wood, taught me to “not sweat the small stuff”.
He showed me by his support that I didn’t have to be perfect. It was a valuable lesson for me to learn. During that time, David joined the Navy upon graduation, we bought a home in Seattle, David married Mary(later) and we sold our house in Seattle and moved to Wandering Creek Mobile Home Park.
In 1990 our Hixon family had a reunion in Port Townsend, Washington. It was the first time I had seen some of the younger children. It was a special time of getting reacquainted with some we hadn’t seen for several years, and just being with people who love one another unconditionally.
That’s what heaven will be like, isn’t it? After several centuries of sitting at Jesus’ feet we’ll have all eternity to be with our loved ones and explore all of God’s creation. I can hardly wait!
As of this date, we are living in Edmonds, WA in a condominium with David and Mary next door (so they can ‘see to our welfare’), and Chris just two doors away. We are enjoying our great-grandchildren, Alexandra and Connor, getting to spend a lot of time with them. They are a delight as they grow and change.
My fervent prayer is that they will learn of Jesus and give their lives to God at an early age. I’m trusting them to Him.
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