Eulogy for My Grandmother-Dorothy “Dot” Platt
Delivered by Max Leaver
My Grandmother, Edith Dorothy “Dot” Krause Platt, was born on Halloween, 1918, two weeks before the end of World War I, here in Salt Lake to Edith Jane McCarthy and Clarence Ervin Krause.
She was the oldest of three children, followed by her brothers Ted and Ron. She told me her first memory was being laid on a couch and looking up to see bluebirds, which she later found out was the wallpaper in the home where she was born.
Her favorite childhood memories were spending summers at her great-grandmother’s farm in Springville, where she would climb trees, ride the workhorses through the hay fields, do somersaults in the barn rafters and sleep in the hay in the loft.
Once, after sleeping in the barn loft hay with a neighbor friend, the two decided to hike up the canyon. They packed jam, sandwiches, and apples and headed for the mountains. They reached a spring and decided to hike a little further and then a bit further and on throughout the day until they came across a fresh set of mountain lion tracks and decided maybe they better head home. By the time they arrived back at the farm, it was evening, and everyone was on high alert searching for the two girls that had disappeared in the hay.
She loved to roller skate and would often speak of all the tricks she could perform. I think it was one of the things she missed most in her later years.
While my grandparents were dating, World War II broke out, and my grandfather was drafted. Shortly after reporting to Fort Douglas, my grandmother developed appendicitis. My grandpa rushed to the hospital. According to my grandma, all she could remember was seeing his face occasionally as she faded in and out of consciousness from the after-effects of the anesthesia. Apparently, at some point, he asked her to marry him, and she said yes. She couldn’t remember a thing but took his word for it, and they were later married in the St. Mark’s Episcopal Church here in Salt Lake while he was on leave.
Together, they had two children, Robin and Shawn, and built a home near Holladay, where they lived most of their lives. The small two-bedroom home grew and grew as they were constantly adding on and rearranging rooms. Among their many renovations, they added a 2nd story to the house. Before it was finished, she would use the unfinished rooms as her private roller rink, skating through each of the rooms. They even questioned whether they should leave the rooms unfinished so she could continue skating up there. As I said, she loved to skate.
In addition to an ad-hoc skating rink, the unfinished 2nd story also served as a flight training center for whatever wayward baby birds she had found in her travels and was currently rehabilitating.
Her life revolved around nature. If she wasn’t filling up her bird feeders, planting flowers in her yard or working in the garden, she was on a hike in the nearby hollow, hiking around Silver Lake in Brighton or camping in her beloved trailer, the Wee Balla Machree, which means “Little Home of My Heart” in Gaelic.
She was always curious and learning, whether it was in nature, reading a book or watching a documentary, or traveling the world. She visited over half the national parks, most multiple times, and the long list of countries she visited includes Canada, Australia, New Zealand, China, Hong Kong, Costa Rica, Mexico, Austria, Bulgaria, Turkey, Romania, Hungary, and Yugoslavia.
In all of her travels, the pictures and stories she brought back all revolved around two things: the exciting things she saw in nature and the people. Those seemed to be her two driving passions. She loved being around people and sharing joy and wonder with them. Sometimes, that was in the form of a meal or some cookies on a rough day, or a song or poem she had found or written for you.
Most often, however, it was sharing the wonders she had seen in nature that day. She loved to share that wonder with others and was continually teaching others how to see the little miracles happening outside. She led innumerable nature studies & bird groups, taught cub scouts, taught at the National Wildlife Summit in Colorado, served as President of Utah Nature Study Society, taught at elementary school classes where she was affectionately called the “bird lady” and taught educational camps for over 15 years at her favorite place in the world, Yellowstone. If you looked in the freezer at my grandma’s house, there was a 50/50 chance you would either see leftovers or a dead bird she had found and was hoping to use as a visual aid for a teaching event.
On a personal level, it seemed like she spent every weekend, holiday, and summer taking us grandkids hiking and camping in the mountains, deserts, and forests that she loved. Our hikes were long but never far because we stopped at every flower, rock, tree, or critter along the way so we could observe and appreciate the beauty in it. She would teach us rhymes to identify various plants and animals. For example, to identify poison ivy, remember “leaves of three, let them be” or to differentiate a coral snake, which is venomous and has red, yellow and black bands, from a king snake which is harmless, but has very similar colors, remember “Red and yellow, kill a fellow. Red and black, friend to Jack.”
Nature is where she went to find wonder, peace, and the sacred, and at every opportunity, she not only invited us to come to share these sacred corners of her heart but sometimes she practically dragged us there.
She loved to draw and paint, reveling in the little details of flowers, feathers, and trees. As we would run around playing tag, she would be sketching penstemons or a Yellow Warbler she had spotted that day. Those drawings usually ended up being our coloring books or convert into mobiles or gliders for people to cut out the color, and play with.
She loved to sing. Every camping trip and every family get-together was filled with singing. She had a seemingly endless supply of campfire songs and was somehow able to get even the surliest group of teenagers to join in a round of “Bill Grogan’s Goat.” The highlight of her 100th birthday party, was when her eyes lit up when everyone started singing campfire songs. She knew every verse of every song by heart, including the hand motions.
Her love for nature, her curiosity and wonder, and passion for family live on in all of us. For those of us that were fortunate enough to have walked with her in the woods, looked through her binoculars, or listened to her wisdom, the way you see the world is partly through her eyes. That is her legacy. As you go out into the world, stop for a moment. Quiet yourself and look and listen. Look at the sky, a tree, a bird, or a bug or feel the way the wind blows through the land. Sing a little campfire song in your heart, and most of all, share what you’ve learned and been grateful we had the opportunity to share the earth with this quirky, passionate, and wonderful woman.
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