Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - September 26, 2025

My friend Teddy

I can still hear back-door neighbor Teddy's voice in my head. Whenever I visited - which was often - I just walked in after knocking on the screen door.

"Hello, hello!" I'd call out.

In a gravelly voice earned by years of smoking, she'd reply, "Come in, come in!"

Teddy's been gone 25 years, but I often think about her. We shared September birthdays, and we celebrated together.

Her given name was Lavon Theodora, but she answered to "Teddy," a good fit for this diminutive, spunky woman.

I met her in 1982. She mowed her lawn, dug dandelions from her sidewalks, and took daily walks then. She made afghans, potholders, dish cloths, and hats; baked banana-nut bread, chocolate-chip cookies, and other goodies; helped at church bazaars; and kept current on the news and sports.

Two generations separated us, but I considered her one of my best friends.

I really came to know her after February 1986 when my husband Jerome died at age 31. I was pregnant, lonely, and needed someone other than family. Teddy was there. We talked about anything and everything - politics, recipes, hair styles, religion, sex, and raising children. Sometimes we just sat side by side in silence, sipping coffee, comfortable in our own skins.

When I went into labor, Teddy was there, along with my family. After, she donned a hospital gown so she could see Mariya immediately. At that moment, she became Mariya's "Grandma Teddy."

During one cool fall evening that year, I came home from work feeling melancholy. I opened the door to the aroma of Cornish hens baking in the oven accompanied by the sound of my parents and Teddy's voices, and Mariya's babbling. I suddenly felt as if a warm blanket of love had encircled me.

Others grew to see Teddy as another family member. Before we married, she scrutinized Art to make sure he would be a good partner. She and my sister Gaila were the witnesses at Art's and my 1988 wedding. We saw her son Gloyd, her sisters Irene and Ruthie, and Ruthie's husband Chester as part of our extended family.

Both of my girls and nieces Gabriela, and Larisa called Teddy "Grandma." She shared an abundance of affection with all four of "her" granddaughters. She made afghans for them when they were babies and kept a laundry basket of garage-sale toys in her living room for them to play with when they visited. Mariya remembers eating cookies in Teddy's kitchen and listening to us gab. Katie recalls how Teddy loved it when we took her treats from Dairy Queen. She was particularly partial to Whoppers from Burger King or a snack at the K-Mart diner.

Gaila and her husband Humberto remarked how Teddy always welcomed them and their girls to her home and was always interested in their family's activities.

Neighbor Dorothy, who lived just east of Teddy's home, remembers her homemade gifts. "... Teddy always baked Christmas goodies and gave Laurel and me this big plate full of a variety of cookies and candies. She continued to bake almost to the end of her life. ..."

Teddy's large Christmas platters were heaped with stained-glass, no-bake, and chocolate-chip cookies and included a loaf of her scrumptious banana-nut bread. I often helped her shell the walnuts for it until I discovered already-shelled ones in the grocery store. After, I gave them to her each year for her birthday. I have her recipe and her nesting Pyrex mixing bowls. Every year, I spread the tree skirt she made for us about our tree bottom.

While Teddy was a good student of the Bible, she also had an irreverent side. She liked jokes of all kinds. I smile when I think of Art's mother Donna and Teddy singing songs together in the car while we were returning from a visit with my folks. Then Teddy would sing a version with off-color lyrics. Her closet held a collection of Playgirl magazines.

She had no trouble sharing her opinions. How many times did she call the local newspaper to complain about their carrier lobbing the paper into her bushes or onto her porch roof?

Teddy was feisty, fiercely independent, outspoken, kind-hearted, savvy, fun, knowledgeable about the world, and not afraid to laugh at herself. When the doctor told her she might last five more years if she quit smoking, she stopped immediately and was so pleased with herself when she passed the 15-year point.

I told her she was like a cat with nine lives. During the time I knew her, she broke her ribs in a car accident, had congestive heart failure twice, had operations on several hernias, and had radiation treatments for a tumor behind her right year. She was quite open about her physical ailments, one time whipping open her hospital gown to show Art and our friend Matthias her latest scar. Art laughed, but Matthias almost choked in surprise. Art says he was never sure Teddy hadn't done that on purpose.

Though she became physically frail, she insisted on staying at home and doing as much as possible. In the last year of her life, she had her bed moved from her upstairs bedroom into the first-floor living room so she didn't have to climb the steps. Dorothy said Teddy told her how much she enjoyed looking out her window at Dorothy's flowers and her spinning pinwheel. "... So, I always made sure there were flowers in the summer and a pinwheel or two for her to enjoy. ..."

Teddy died in her sleep at home on July 5, 2000 at the age of 86. Art and Dorothy's husband Laurel were among the honorary pallbearers, and I delivered the eulogy at her service.

"The Best of Friends" - a book Teddy had on her desk near her bedside - has a quote by George T. Hewitt: "The best things in life are never rationed. Friendship, loyalty, love do not require coupons."

I miss her - but I'm so glad she was my friend.