Joyce C. Tornow's Obituary
Joyce Tornow, age 89, of Oshkosh, WI, left us on June 27, 2022 to be with her late husband, Roger Tornow, forever.
She was born March 16, 1933 to Otto and Marie Ebert on the family farm near Lake Puckaway, WI. In 1950 she graduated from Montello High School and later in life attended art classes at UW-Oshkosh.
Joyce worked at Miles Kimball Company as a hand writer and later at Oshkosh Trophy as an engraver and art designer before retiring at the age of 72.
Joyce’ passions were caring for her family and home, painting, animal welfare and playing the piano, which she did for her fellow memory care facility residents until nearly the day she passed.
Roger and Joyce Tornow were married for nearly 59 years. Together they traveled to art fairs all over Wisconsin where Joyce displayed her paintings and Roger displayed his photography, with both winning awards. Their work lives on in their sons’ homes.
For many years Joyce was a member of Most Blessed Sacrament Parish in Oshkosh, WI.
Joyce is preceded in death by four siblings; Violet Polus, Margorie Bachman, Marion Frost and Harold (“Bob”) Ebert. She remained very close to her surviving sister, Alice Marquart, of Lakewood, WA.
Further surviving Joyce are her three sons Joel Tornow (Jodie) of Greendale, WI, Terry Tornow (Sharon) of Oshkosh, WI and Dan Tornow of Pickett, WI, six grandchildren and three great grandchildren.
The funeral service for Joyce will be held on Thursday July 7, 2022 at 11 a.m. in Poklasny Funeral Home (870 W. South Park Avenue Oshkosh, WI 54902). A time of visitation will be held at the funeral home on Thursday from 9:30 a.m. until the time of service. Burial will take place at Liberty Prairie in Pickett
JOYCE TORNOW EULOGY:
When I think of our mom, I think of how she always had concern for others, how her heart was always in the right place and how she was imaginative. As our dad, Roger, was more of a “dad” than a “father,” our mom was more of a “mom” than a “mother,” and in both cases I say that affectionately. Also like our dad, the things she gave the world live on.
She was born in 1933 to Otto and Marie Ebert, who had a large family and owned a farm. The farm required a lot of hard work as did the farm that our dad grew up on. From this, both of our parents instilled in each of their three sons a strong work ethic.
But on the lighter side, our mom’s side of the family was a bunch of characters. At family gatherings her brother and her sisters would give each other good-natured hard times and then it would spread to their kids and various nieces and nephews. It was great.
And some of that Ebert-side craziness must have rubbed off on our generation. Here’s an example –
When my two brothers and I were young, while our mom was making cookies, we secretly took some of the dough, went to our bedroom, laid on our beds and threw the dough so that it would stick to the ceiling above us. It would stay there for about a minute and then fall on our faces, making us laugh hysterically.
Our mom caught us doing it and gave us the ominous look and chewing out that we rightfully had coming. Then with the lessen learned, she and her three little hooligans looked at each other and laughed some more.
For the Montello High School class of 1950, our mom was the proud second baseman of the girls’ softball team. I’ve told my sons that sadly they didn’t get the chance to see the best of their grandparents, and I challenged them to picture their Grandma T. turning a double play for the Hilltoppers.
As mentioned our mom was imaginative, and one of her greatest passions was art. She designed her high school yearbook covers, which we guess she did in between turning double plays.
Her primary focus in painting was nature scenes, although she dabbled in modern art also. When I was young, I looked at one of her “modern art” pieces and asked, “Mom, what is that?”
She kindly responded, “it’s whatever you want it to be.” Back then I thought “OK, if you say so,” but thinking back now, she was challenging me to use my imagination as she often did with all three of her sons.
There were many nights that our mom happily worked in her art room with piano music playing in the background - painting pictures or painting other things, such as when she used her imagination to decorate paving bricks, some of which live on as decorations in our home.
Our mom’s concern for others extended to a cause near and dear to her heart, animal welfare. In particular, her love of our cats and her compassion for cats that would show up at our door is legendary.
In our dad’s eulogy I mentioned that he and our mom had one of the all-time great romances. They were married nearly 59 years and were truly a team. A great example is their travel around Wisconsin to show our mom’s artwork and our dad’s photography in art fairs and exhibits. That travel was some of their best together time. It was a reward and a diversion for their hard work.
Our mom enjoyed playing the piano. After our dad passed, our mom relocated to a memory care assisted living facility and we learned that she became a celebrity for her piano playing and the entertainment it provided to the other residents.
The inspiring thing in this is that even though her eyesight wasn’t what it once was and her dementia was advancing, she was able to play without music and bring happiness to others.
One time when I called the assisted living facility, I could hear some very nice piano music in the background. I asked the staff person that I was talking to if that was my mom, and she said “yes, it is.” That made me smile.
Through the years, one-by-one those crazy Ebert-side siblings passed on leaving the two youngest, our mom and her sister, Alice, who lives in Washington. Even though they were far apart, they remained close. After our mom’s relocation to the assisted living facility, one of her greatest comforts was talking to Alice about family, the old times and the shared experiences of getting older. No one in the world could relate to our mom as Alice could, and their communication meant everything to our mom.
Our mom knew that when she passed, she would again be with her beloved husband and partner, our dad.
When his passing approached, our family initially cried out of sadness, and as our mom’s passing approached, we again cried out of sadness.
But in both instances our family received the blessing of the support of others in many forms, and both times we eventually cried not out of sadness, but in appreciation of all that support.
Thank you Mom for all that you did for us and for all that you gave the world. Say “hey” to Dad for us. We love you both.
The following poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye was part of our grandmother’s funeral and it was important to our mom that it be included in her life celebration:
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep,
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I do not die.
What’s your fondest memory of Joyce?
What’s a lesson you learned from Joyce?
Share a story where Joyce's kindness touched your heart.
Describe a day with Joyce you’ll never forget.
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