In Memory of

Beatrice Elizabeth Reid Beesley

July 8, 1917 – October 11, 2008

Bea was born to Sarah (Dean) Reid and Patrick Reid on July 8, 1917, in Montreal, Canada.  Her parents were both from Ireland, Sarah from Carrick Fergus in the north and Patrick from the rural Rush near Dublin in the south.  Bea was the sixth of eight children and the second of three girls born to the couple. 

 She contracted polio when she was two.  Bea always credits her mother for saving her life, because after the doctors given up and had sent the child home to die Sarah worked tirelessly with her.  The child had a slight sometimes unnoticeable limp until later in her life. 

 Bea loved being part of a big family even when it meant being teased because of her red hair and presumptive proclivity to anger.  Her brother John especially liked to push his teasing to the limit to see his mother and sister flare up.  There was a lot of talking, singing and activity among the family members.

 The Reids went to a Catholic school in Montreal that was run by French nuns.  The children felt that the French students were favored, and there are stories of street battles with slightly older pugnacious brother Ed and some of the French kids. 

Bea felt that her father was abusive when he’d had too much to drink and she told about  him pulling down her mother’s curtains and ruining Christmas with his belligerence.  She told about standing up to him when he was trying to win her over with candy.  When he asked her, “Whose girl are you—dad’s or mum’s?” she refused the bribe saying, “Mum’s.” Reportedly her mother’s response was, “You’ll never win that one over.”

 The family decided to move to Detroit in the mid-1920’s so Patrick could get a better job (the factories were hiring).  Bea was in the third grade and terrified about going over the Detroit River via the Ambassador Bridge.  She steadfastly told the family that she would refuse to go over the waters.  Fortunately it was a long trip, and she had fallen asleep when it came to crossing into Michigan. 

 The children were enrolled in St. Henry School in Lincoln Park with the St. Joseph sisters.  Because she was a bright child, she was able to skip a grade and still stayed at the top of her class throughout her elementary and high school years. There was one nun whom she dearly loved, Sr. Amata, but she felt that most of the other nuns were too strict. Bea had a vivid imagination and loved to write stories.  She didn’t like it that one of the nuns looked down on fantasy.  Senior girls were forbidden to wear lipstick or hose.  And when report cards were handed out, the parish priest would become quite physical with the boys who didn’t do well.  When calling Bea to the front, however, he would eloquently begin to quote Dante, “Beatrice the beautiful, Beatrice the brave…” and Bea would stand behind him and bow as the class erupted in laughter.

 At home, Bea loved helping fix her sisters’ and sister-in-law’s hair, and taking care of her nephew little Jimmy.  She had a knack of dealing with children, and they loved her in return.

 When Bea graduated from high school she was dating a man thirteen years her senior and a Protestant.  Herschel Frank Beesley came to Detroit from rural southern Indiana to work at the GM Ternstedt plant where he was a tool and die maker.  He came from a smaller family of three boys from whom he had become estranged and had only finished eighth grade.  Despite their many differences, they married in June. 1937. 

 In the following years, one daughter, Barbara, and three sons, Don, Tom and Gary, were born to the couple.  They moved to a small house on the northwest side of Detroit in around 1939 where the family lived until all the children had grown up and moved out.  There’s was one of the first houses built on the block which fairly rapidly became a street with lots of families with children.  Bea loved being a housewife, particularly her parenting role, reading to and with the children, initiating games, and also cooking.  In the cold of winter, she’d bundle up her brood and send them out to play in the snow.  Sunday drives in the country were a big treat, with the inducement of possible malted milk treats for good children. 

 Herschel was prone to depression, however, and the stress of bolstering him up time and time again in addition to shouldering most of the parenting (he worked afternoons and rarely saw the children other than on the weekend), became too much for his wife.  Bea asked for a separation and then divorce in the early ‘50s.  This was a time when few people were divorced, and we knew of no Catholics who were.  Fortunately the parish priests were supportive of her decision.

 It was an awkward time for all as dad moved out to live on his own in an apartment.  Afterwards he would come by once a week to visit his children.  Parental allegiances were strained.  It was never the same relationship.  For the children, we had no words to describe our feelings and the situation seemed like one relegated into the private sphere.  We did feel a sense of coming closer together to help one another weather the difficult time, however.  Bea refused to ask for alimony, preferring to go to work to earn her own keep.  She worked first in a bakery in the neighborhood, so she could be home by the time the children arrived from school, and then for the Detroit Public Schools.  

 Relationships remained primary for her in the work situations.  She told of standing up to the boss at the bakery when he asked a black man to put his hand into the fryer to retrieve the doughnuts.  Willie was sad he was forced to leave his employment because he needed the money.  According to Bea, she was the only one who spoke truthfully to the boss about the injustice he’d wrought. “Everyone else was afraid to speak up to him,” she recalled. 

 When Barbara graduated from high school, attended a year at Marygrove College, and announced she was going into the convent, Bea felt bad. She wanted grandchildren, and her experiences with nuns didn’t fit the daughter she knew.  It was a difficult letting go, and was followed several years later when two of her sons were drafted during the Vietnam War era.  All her life Bea kept the letters she received from these three during their time of separation. 

 A more joyous parting came when the oldest of the sons got married.  A few years later, the middle son also married.  The later arrival of four grandsons was celebrated with great joy.  Bea loved being a grandmother and child care was a rewarding experience for her, even when the little ones wore her out playing army and hospital.

 When the Detroit neighborhood was changing, she was one of the few white people who remained on Prest Street.  One day, however, while she was at work her house was robbed.  The following day she received a threatening phone call.  She decided to relocate.  After a few years continuing her work as a baker and cook, and housekeeping for her brother in Redford, she purchased a mobile home in Union Lake where she lived for many years.

 Bea was invited to become a manager in the kitchen but did not want that because it would divide her from the other workers.  She didn’t like the classism displayed by the manager, cook and baker being given the title “Mrs.” and the other workers called simply by their first names.  She decided to retire from her work at the public schools when the policies changed.  Instead of good made-from-government-surplus-scratch meals, pre-packaged foods became the order of the day.  That just did not cut muster with “Miss Bea.”

 Retirement was filled with helping the children read at a local elementary school, working in her parish Christian Service Office, or chairing a parish Justice and Peace Committee.  She was an active learner, attending parish programs and talks, as well as concerts.  As she got up in years, she joined the 50 Up Club.  She served as an officer in the 50 Up Club for a few years.  Bingo was her favorite activity there, and for a few years, in a few other places as well.

 When living in a mobile home became expensive with rising heating bills, she moved into a seniors apartment in Highland.  In fact, she was one of the first to move to Highland Haven and lived there around sixteen years.  Again, she was an active participant in life there, making coffee for coffee hour, helping with clean up after special meals, holding the residents’ funds, etc.  And always she shared her opinions on how things could/ought to be better. 

 Bea hoped she’d live as long as her mother did, to age 87, and was quite surprised when she surpassed that landmark.  Her extended family celebrated her 75^th, 80^th and 85^th birthdays. Due to her declining health—and wanting to celebrate outside in the summer “so the children can play in the water”—it wasn’t possible to do the same for her 90^th. 

 Mobility became more and more of a challenge for Bea.  A physical therapist told of being able to hear her bones rubbing together from across the room.  Bea was one determined woman and she used every effort to take care of herself and to push herself to continue getting around as long as it was humanly doable.

 A few years ago she landed in the ER after a fall on Christmas two years in a row.  Then in 2008 she had a succession of falls, one in March, and one in April.  The latter was more serious and she was hospitalized for several days.  It was then that delusions and dementia became evident.   Bea felt that hospital staff were trying to kill her and she would battle them nightly.  It was her deepest sorrow that her family did not, could not believe her. 

 Her family moved her into an assisted living apartment in Westland in May.  She asked her immediate family to give away to apartment residents any of her furniture and household goods not taken by the family.  The custom there was to sell items, but Bea knew people there did not have much money.

 She spent that summer in and out of ER, hospitalizations, nursing/rehabilitation centers, and a variety of temporary homes.  Her 91^st birthday was celebrated with her family and a few friends at Oakwood Rehabilitation.   She had been needling the staff that she was going to initiate some parties there and at this one she kept asking that the family do more singing and dancing.  It seems that she was remembering the Reid parties of long ago, the manner of celebration which was not customary among the Beesleys.

 In September Bea was found to have pancreatic cancer which had spread to her liver.  That’s when she moved into IHM Health Care in Monroe.  Hospice began her second day there.  The anti-anxiety drugs finally gave her some relief from her night terrors.  Both hospice staff and those at the Health Care were extraordinary caregivers and supporters of the family as well.  In close to two weeks, Bea passed away peacefully after a week of everyone expecting her to pass at any time. 

 At her wake, family and friends remembered her as a woman of welcome.  When Irish relatives resettled in Michigan, Bea was identified as one of the friendliest, always with a big smile.  Spunky was another quality people smiled at, along with her independence.  Her sense of humor was legendary.  As a young woman she bought an 8 millimeter camera and became the family recorder.  Her cooking was also legendary.  Her Catholic faith persisted despite many adversities.  Her speaking up in situations of injustice marked her life and leave a wonderful model for her family.  Family and children were both her joy and the hub of her life.  She valued relationships above all and was uncompromising in her loyalty. 

 In faith, we know that Bea has entered eternal life.  The brokenness and hardships of this life are healed.  Bea will be forever a mother to the children she bore, and grandmother/ great-grandmother to her dear ones until we are united once more on another shore.  We know that she has joined the Reids and Deans, as well as angels, saints, martyrs, and Jesus!, and that they are all rejoicing together.  What a party lies in store for the rest of us!