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HINMAN, Effie 1867-1934

HINMAN, HILL, ROBINSON, DICKMAN, LUSTED, TAYLOR, NAFUS, KOUT, PASCHKE

Posted By: Mike Peterson (email)
Date: 6/6/2007 at 13:06:29

The Nashua Reporter, Wednesday, January 31, 1934

MRS. ALBERT E. HILL IS SUMMONED BY DEATH

Stricken Suddenly while Returning Home Wednesday
Night – Funeral Held Saturday

The community was shocked Thursday morning to hear of the sudden death Wednesday night (January 24, 1934) of Mrs. Albert E. Hill. She was returning from a pleasant evening at the home of Mrs. George Robinson, and shortly after parting homeward ways with Mrs. Fred Dickman, she was stricken with a heart attack. She was able to make her way to the door of the Methodist parsonage, where Rev. and Mrs. Lusted did what they could for her, and called a physician. Unable to withstand the attack, she passed away a few minutes after the physician arrived. Mrs. Hill had suffered a couple of very light attacks during the day, but she had not thought her condition serious. Mr. Hill was called from his home and arrived at the parsonage just before his wife passed away.

Funeral services were conducted at the home Saturday afternoon at 2 o’clock, Rev. George Lusted officiating. Miss Margaret Taylor sang “No Night There.”. Burial was in Oak Hill cemetery, and pallbearers were Roy Nafus, A.L. Kout, W.R. Paschke, and Dr. Fred Dickman.

Effie Hinman was born in Nashua, Iowa, February 17, 1867. Here she spent her entire life—those carefree childhood days, the days of happiness mixed with the sorrows of her mature life. Her life was an open book to the community. On October 3, 1885, she was united in marriage with Albert E. Hill. To them five children were born, four of whom died in infancy. Mrs. Hill has always been an active and earnest worker in the Methodist Episcopal Church. Her religion was a vital part of her life.........

Mrs. Hill is survived by her husband and her son, Louis L. Hill and one grandson, Louis, Jr., the latter two being residents of Postville, Iowa.

I feel them in the Heavens above
The Angels whispering to one another
Can find among their burning terms of Love.
None so devotional as mother.

THE WATCHER

She always learned to watch for us
Anxious if we were late,
In winter, by the window.
In summer by the gate.

And though we mocked her tenderly.
Who had such foolish care;
The long way home would seem more safe
Because she waited there.

Her thoughts were all so full of us.
She never could forget.
And so I think that where she is
She must be watching yet.

Waiting until we come home to her.
Anxious if we are late.
Watching from Heaven’s window.
Leaning from Heaven’s gate.

Contributed by Karen Giblin.


 

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