Frances Czapp

My mother Frances grew up in poverty during the Great Depression and endured many hardships during her childhood in greater Detroit. She survived by finding comfort from kind individuals who assured the world held promise for her to experience beauty, joy, and love. They introduced her to alternative playgrounds of literature, art, music, and history, and she found safety and like-minded playmates there. Frances earned her bachelor's degree in English in a mere three years at the University of Michigan. Eager to learn, she enrolled in as many classes in different fields of study as was physically possible, while still working to pay for tuition and living expenses. She remained a lifelong scholar and shared her love of learning with friends and family. Women of her generation followed expected paths of marrying and bearing children at a young age. Frances was no different in that respect. She married Wes the day before college graduation, and their first child, Katherine, arrived ten months later. Shortly after marrying, the young couple built their home in the middle of an old apple orchard next door to Wes's parents in rural Michigan. Far from cultural attractions, Frances, the child of the city, learned from Wes how to work the land, becoming a master gardener who created beauty in every corner of their landscape. Enabling plants to thrive became a lifelong passion that sustained Frances. She and Wes practiced organic gardening and regenerative agriculture long before these methods became mainstream. They provided us bountiful fruits, vegetables, dairy products, meat, and homemade bread. Every spring, summer, and fall, our yard was a paradise of flower beds. Life on the farm demanded daily hard labor and produced little financial compensation for our family. Frances learned from Wes how to scrimp and save. Despite our financial situation, we kids grew up eating nutritious food and were offered access to the same playgrounds of literature, art, history, and music that had enriched Frances as a child. With constant duties and chores on the farm, we became accustomed to working hard and being accountable. Together with Wes, Frances instilled in each child a love and respect of nature as well as compassion for humankind. These gifts she gave us nurtured our minds and souls. Frances was a lifelong learner who obtained a master's degree in teaching and read broadly, acquiring 7,000 books over the years (mostly worn copies found in secondhand stores and library sales). Among her most favorite authors were Jane Austen, Barbara Pym, and Henry James. She taught English at the local high school, finding it a mixed experience. She enjoyed those students who were grateful for her indulgences, yet she did not suffer adolescent fools gladly. She was relieved to retire early from teaching and return to her garden and books. Despite-or maybe because of-her adverse childhood experiences, Frances was unfailingly kind and compassionate. And she was fiercely protective of the innocent. She was a champion of social justice at micro and macro levels. She did not tolerate disrespect or cruelty toward others. She drew genuine pleasure from seeing individuals thrive and sought only to encourage others, never compete with them. Politically she chose to follow humble mavericks whose causes aligned with hers: equality, liberty and opportunity for all, preservation of the environment, equitable access to nutrition, healthcare, and education. Frances loved her three children (Katherine, Andrew, and Patricia) deeply. She wanted us each to live our fullest life possible and to aspire to goals that were beyond her generation's reach. Katherine's death in 2016 devastated the family. And Frances, the protective Mama-Bear, never got over that loss. When Wes died in 2020, Frances lived for three years on her own for the first time. She developed a daily rhythm and enjoyed puttering around her garden, reading books and periodicals, listening to NPR, and providing impromptu history lessons to visiting friends and family. During these later years, she often reminisced lovingly about her time in college long ago, describing to us her courses, roommates, professors, and jobs. We saw a bit of the young Frances as she shared these memories from before we were born. To her, the world then was new and exciting, and all seemed possible. We wondered at this remarkable woman from the past whose energy seemed boundless. Frances retained her mental acuity and sense of humor until the very end. She died as she wished: in her home, with family and friends supporting her. She knew she was loved. She knew she had done all in her power to give her family healthy bodies and strong minds. She had created and shared beauty throughout her life and was a champion of the innocent, the wronged, and the forgotten. She cared deeply. May her memory inspire us to savor the joy and love generated when we choose to make the world a better place for all.