Lois Shaver, daughter, sister, mother, grandmother, aunt, friend, educator, and all-around fine human, died on Tuesday April 14, 2020, at the Virginian in Fairfax County, Virginia. She had lived at the Virginian since April 15, 2015.
She grew up in Minneapolis, the second child of Fred and Rosalie Curtis. Second became a senior position among the Curtis kids — there were eventually eight: Jocelyn, Lois, Fred, George, Dee Dee, Al, Margie, and Lynn.
Lois raised five children, all of whom survive her: Sybil, Patty (Ned Nicholas), Betsy (Thad Howard), Bob (Sheila Shoup) and John (Anne Kirk). Her children were born from 1954 to 1965 in four different states (Maryland, New York, Massachusetts, Virginia) and the District of Columbia.
She delighted in her grandchildren: Jesse Shaver, Catherine Nicholas, Tommy Nicholas, Ellen Nicholas, Joseph Shoup Shaver, foster grandkid Carlos Cifuentes, and honorary grandkid, Warren Knowles.
In January 2011, all five children and all five grandchildren were there for her 80th birthday celebration, which meant a lot to Lois.
Lois graduated from Washburn High School in Minneapolis (valedictorian of the class of 1948) and the College of St. Catherine in St. Paul, where she majored in chemistry and minored in library science. Her dad taught and coached at Washburn.
After college she went to work in “The Atomic City” — Oak Ridge, Tennessee — where she worked for Union Carbide and Carbon Corporation abstracting, editing and indexing scientific papers. She met Bob Shaver in Oak Ridge. After they married, and after stops in Maryland and New York, Bob went back to school at MIT. During part of that era, Bob served in the Army and Lois was, as she wrote, “an army wife.”
In 1959, the family moved to Fairfax County, Virginia, to the brick ranch-style house they had built for them on Athens Road.
The family made many car trips to Minnesota to visit family. Starting in 1965, these involved packing seven folks into the car and packing a lot of food in coolers. The family usually stayed with Bob and Jocelyn Findorff and their kids, usually made a trip to Lake Osakis, and always visited other aunts, uncles and cousins. There were also yearly Christmas-time car trips to Florida to visit Lois’ parents.
When she was in her 40s, Lois took a teaching assistant job with Fairfax County Public Schools. She once wrote that “the teaching gene caught up with me.” At the urging of the teacher she worked with, Lois pursued a master’s degree in deaf education at the California State University, Northridge (with credits from Gallaudet College, the University of Virginia and Virginia Tech). She got the degree and worked for a couple of decades as a classroom educator in elementary, middle school (her favorite) and high school. For the 1983-1984 school year, Lois was named Teacher of the Year at Mantua Elementary.
Lois was a dedicated professional who believed that it was important to look at special education students as children first and to concentrate on their abilities. In one professional paper, she quoted noted educator Dennis the Menace explaining to his friend Joey that “the best thing you can do is get very good at being you.” Lois explained that education can help make each child “… good at being you.” In her own words, Lois loved her teaching experience and found it “exciting, challenging, frustrating, and sometimes fulfilling.”
Lois made many long-time friends among her work colleagues, including her especially close friends Patty Avent, Shirley Fried, and Terry Dooley — whose calls, visits, cards and letters were so sustaining during her time at the Virginian. Shirley was a regular at the Virginian for monthly visits with Lois.
Lois retired in 1996 but continued her life of service, volunteering at the King’s Park Library, at the Fairfax Hospital Library, and with Meals on Wheels. Her walks with longtime and loyal canine companion Frankie were a twice daily ritual for many years.
Despite limited musical training, she loved music and singing. She rang bells with the Fort Myer Chapel Ringers bell choir, where she performed alongside members of the Army band and other dedicated volunteers. She was in charge of ringing large bells — maybe because she started lifting weights when she was in her 60s. The Ringers played regularly at the Fort Myer Chapel, at festival competitions, and at other area venues, including Washington’s Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.
Her grandkids got a lot of her love and attention. Having inherited the “I love babies and kids” gene from her mother, Lois babysat Carlos and Joseph on a regular basis and graciously agreed to superintend Catherine, Tommy and Ellen on many occasions — once when Tommy had never ingested anything except mom’s milk directly from mom. Jesse, her Manhattan grandson, visited with her in Fairfax, once memorably at a tender age getting “lost” in a bush in her back yard. Lois also provided welcome and calming assistance at the home births of Jesse and Ellen.
In 2003, when Lois was preparing to move out of her home on Athens Road in Fairfax, she searched for and selected an apartment in Fairfax Square, with a view of lawns and tall trees much like that of her house, and three bedrooms so she could accommodate children, grandchildren and other guests. Until she moved to the Virginian, she hosted annual Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts at her apartment.
Lois did a good deal of traveling with her sister Jocelyn (including a trip behind the Iron Curtain and trips to visit out-of-town offspring) and for many years met up annually with her siblings and assorted other family members, in a different place each year. Locations included Banff in Alberta, Canada, Yellowstone National Park, Las Vegas, Shenandoah National Park, and Lake Tahoe. Granddaughter Ellen traveled with Lois for the sibling reunion at Lake Tahoe and again on a visit back to the Twin Cities for a larger family reunion. Every Easter for many years, Lois visited Lynn and her family in Florida. For the past few years, Margie and Lynn have come from Washington State and Florida to visit Lois at the Virginian.
As was done in her childhood home growing up, Lois welcomed a number of folks into her home for extended stays. Among those who stayed long enough to be thought of as “having lived with her for a while” are: niece Janet Hopf, Aaron (a fellow Fort Myer bell choir member), future daughter-in-law Sheila, and, in the early 80s, John Shaver’s friend Steve Hansgen, a guitarist who, according to Wikipedia, is “best known as a member of the hardcore punk band Minor Threat.” Janet became a regular holiday guest and a valued companion.
“So many books, so little time.” Lois once had a tee shirt or tote bag with this saying, which summed up her take on the hours she spent reading. She always had at least one book underway, usually with a pile more on hand from that week’s visit to the public library. She was curious about the world and the many different ways people lived their lives. She particularly enjoyed history and adventure books, including harrowing tales of Everest climbers. But she made it clear that she was not interested in participating in such adventures except as a reader. A favorite book when she was a kid was Holdfast Gaines, an adventure tale of a member of the Mohegan tribe.
Lois was in a book group for many years that was close to her heart and a place of spirited discussion, deep connection, and trusting freedom of expression. Lois often described what defined the group in words very much like these of fellow member Patty Avent, who remembers: “The odd sense of humor we all developed after being together through comedies and tragedies for so many years. Personal and literary. We laughed. We cried. We elevated each other and brought each other to despair. And we obliged each other on a regular basis. Occasionally while discussing books.”
Lois was a smart, knowledgeable, highly-principled, hard-working woman. She was considerate, funny and pleasant to be around. She rarely had anything bad to say about anyone. She would quietly do what she thought was right, and could be relied on to act with integrity and generosity without making it seem like a thing.