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 As you may have read in last week’s paper, a long time resident of the San Gabriel Valley passed away in Victorville. Ramona Dunn was 100 years young and was my grandmother.
She was laid to rest on Saturday June 19th next to her one and only love, my grandfather, Louis, at Rose Hills Memorial Park in an area called “Twilight Terrace.” He had left her back in 1962 and she never remarried, choosing to wait until she was reunited with him in the hereafter. I guess he was, in her mind, an impossible act to follow.
After they wed, they lived in Monterey Park where they raised their kids Barbara and Ron. She would reside there for 66 years in total, at least in the months from September until May. In 1944 Lou and Nonie purchased a cabin on a lake in the Eastern High Sierras and it became the family home away from home in the months when there wasn’t any snow and the fish were biting. Life was good.
After my grandfather passed away she continued with the same routine. Living in Monterey Park and staying at the cabin for the entire summer season by herself, receiving guests at her magical retreat. This may not seem too unusual on the surface but the one thing you should know about Nonie is she never drove a car a day in her life. I’m sure that not driving while living in Monterey Park in her later years contributed to her longevity. But the fact that she didn’t drive never deterred her from getting where she needed to go. With the help of family members and many friends she always got there.
She was always involved in one thing or another. She was always volunteering for the groups she was involved with like the Eastern Star and Job’s Daughters. When the Garfield Medical Center was built across the street from her house, she volunteered to be a guest receptionist there. That was Nonie, always willing to give, which is why, when she needed help, someone was always there for her.
No place was this more evident then when she would spend her summers at the lake. Her neighbors and friends, who called her “The Lady of The Lake,” were always there for her. Whether it was something as simple as picking up her mail when going to town or picking up an item at the store they would always ask her before they went. Nonie always solicited that type of respect from all who knew her and it wasn’t misplaced. She was one of a kind.
I spent many a summer vacations with her in the High Sierras and it was during those times that I learned many a life lesson. One of the things that was drilled into me was that even though it was a vacation home there was always little chores that needed to be done. Nonie called these chores “postage stamp jobs” and it didn’t matter if you were a guest or family. If you were staying at the cabin you were expected to chip in.
While guests were usually cut some slack in this department if you were a family member you were expected to do your “PSJ” before you even started to look like you were having fun. This little acumen was deeply implanted by Nonie in our summers together in my youth. Long after she stopped going to the cabin, which she didn’t do until her late 80’s, the first thing I do every morning when there, after my cup of coffee, is find what that day’s “PSJ” will be. I will continue to do this for the rest of my life, because even though she’s gone, I know she’ll still be watching.
Another lesson I learned early on is that Nonie would always find out if you were doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing at the cabin. It’s a tight knit group up there and with that much open space, if she didn’t see you somebody else would. Even in the days before the cabin had a phone, word traveled and traveled fast.
Case in point: “The Do Not Race in the Boat” incident. The cabin is located on a lake that is specifically used for fishing, a little swimming, and other forms of slow motion traffic. Racing or speeding in your boat is strictly frowned on, especially by the old time residents. A fact that I was made aware of shortly after I was allowed to take the boat out alone and was spotted by Nonie doing “donuts,” going as fast as you can in circles in the middle of the lake. I was immediately summoned back to the dock and chastised in no uncertain terms.
Being only 13 years old, having a short memory, and thinking that we could outsmart any adult, a fellow “lake kid” Blake and I thought that if we took our boats out behind the island that was at the far end of the lake Nonie would never see us. There we could indulge our need for speed. Which of course is what we did.
Unfortunately, what Blake and I didn’t realize is that Nonie had gone over to Cory’s cabin, who was Blake’s grandmother, to do some oil painting, one of her favorite pastimes. Equally unfortunate was the location of that cabin. It is positioned high above the edge of the lake with a view of the entire lake. This, of course, included the waters on the far side of the island where Blake and I were engaging in every verboten boating act our hearts’ desired.
As we headed back to Nonie’s dock we were surprised to see both Nonie and Cory standing at the shore. We, of course, thought our secret was safe. As we approached the dock we found out otherwise. My time in the boat had just come to an abrupt end for that year and it was the last time I decided to cross Nonie.
When Nonie finally decided to sell her house in Monterey Park she moved to a lovely retirement home, The Sterling Inn, in Victorville near my Aunt Barbara. Once again, as was her nature, she began getting involved with projects. Helping and volunteering was more than a pastime, it was a lifestyle.
My one regret is that she didn’t remain closer geographically in the last few years, but she was very happy at The Sterling Inn. During the years when she was there my wife and I had just started a family and making the trek out there got tougher and tougher as activities increased and Nonie’s mobility decreased. But as my wife continues to remind me I should thank my lucky stars that she lived long enough for my kids to have known her.
With her passing, a chapter has closed in my life. She was the last of my grandparents to pass away. I wish that she could have stayed longer but she was ready to go. Besides, Lou has been waiting for her for a long time.
Now they are together…. forever.
(Pictures shown are Lou and Nonie Dunn, circa 1923)
The Shrub Speaks: The killers and suiciders want us to leave Iraq, Afghanistan. Washington, D.C., Jun. 17, 2004
B.D.’s response: He just can’t stop himself. Dubya, “suiciders” is not a word!
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