Rose Mary Bilder (LoPresto)
b. 1911
Ashland, PA
d. 2000
Cannon Fall, MN

Grandmother, maternal side

The more I try, I realize my grandmother Rose, or Rosie, is a difficult person to write about because she was the sort of person that has to be seen, and heard, and observed, to be believed. She was such a character in life, that I imagine the stories about her will go on for generations.

Born in Ashland, PA, my grandmother was one of the older of children. When her mother, Wilhelmina, died, Rose helped to raise the children. She met my grandfather, Angelo, on the Coney Island Ferry - if I recall correctly he was returning home to NJ from college and she was in NYC with friends. They married, moved to NJ and started a family, of which my mother was the youngest and only girl. More on that, in her own words, here.

The Rose I knew best was a grandmother. She was always really busy - and moving fast, never letting any grass grow under her feet. She was somewhat high strung, I suppose - but very cheerful, always. I thought it was funny to watch her and my grandmother - he, very methodical and analytical and her whirling around at the speed of light. Even when she was in her 80's and in a nursing home, the nurses commented frequently on how she couldn't sit still and they couldn't keep up.

Grandmom's nickname was "Nosie Rosie" because she really enjoyed being in the middle of everything and knowing what was going on. Her response to being called that, though, was "I'm NOT nosey! I'm INTERESTED!" And, she really meant that!

The other endearing trait of my grandmother was that she was always a bit of a ding-a-ling. Certainly, she was smart - but there was something wired just a bit differently in her brain than in other people. It made her a lot of fun to be around. And in the later years when we would sit on the phone and talk for hours on end, she would tell me stories that would make laugh and laugh. Rosie was definitely a piece of work! But, I know that I owe her for my smile, my laugh, and that "just left of center" personality.

Of all my grandparents, she was with us the longest. When her beloved Ang died unexpectedly after more than 50 years of marriage, I don't think a lot of people expected she could survive. But she did - she went on with life and travelled and visited her kids and grandkids and great grand kids and became a much loved fixture of the new community she moved to. She told me, though, all the time, that Ang was still with her - sometimes I'd call and she'd say he's sitting here reading, or he just went out for a walk. I always believed her.

When Rosie died, I was in southern Caifornia, working. I knew a day or two in advance that she was going to die any day and got the news when I woke up one Saturday morning. I had a red eye flight out two days later for the funeral, so I had a few days to bumble around out there. What I decided to do was take Rosie to the ocean, because my earliest memories of her and my grandfather were of the Jersey shore. I got in my rental and set off... drove the hour to Santa Monica and boy, did we have a good time! :o) I "took" her to the boardwalk and we road on every ride - even though I knew she probably would have waited for me down below. The cool thing is, there was a young spanish girl there with her grandmother, and they coincidentally were on nearly every ride, every seat, every line with me. We beamed at each other a lot. Then I took her to the best restaurant in town, all the while chattering away and laughing (not that anyone but me knew she was there!). Even now, six months later, I can hear her exact laugh. After dinner, the sun was setting - a sight to behold on the west coast - and I went down to the shore, took off my shoes and walked along the edge of the ocean, saying goodbye to Rosie as the sun went down and the winds picked up. I laughed a lot at the sandpipers, too, because amongst them, I could see her with her pant legs rolled up, going to the edge of the water and then running... wheeeee... trying to get away from the waves. Somewhere from my childhood memories, this funny sight came back. Or maybe she was really there. Its hard to say.

My grandmother Rose Bilder LoPresto on her wedding day.

My grandparents dancing it up, probably at some function in
Crestwood Village, where they retired to.
This picture says a lot about my grandmother.
That smile. The absolute thrill she got out of things.
And she always looked good in pink.

My grandmother Rose.
I have no idea how mother made her sit still long enough to have this taken.