Elizabeth Blanche Hilvers

Elizabeth (Liz) Blanch Hilvers, died peacefully at home under hospice care February 13, 2015 in Visalia, California. Wife, mother, nurse, singer, writer, fundraiser and friend, three words that could sum up Elizabeth's life are courageous, caring and tenacious. She was born in 1927 in North Hollywood, CA. As a child in the depression era, Elizabeth and her siblings grew up within walking distance of the movie lots and often earned extra funds to support the family by being extras in movies. She wrote a book relaying her experience as the daughter of a Scottish immigrant during the 1930s in Los Angeles called "Making Do" which is available from Amazon.com Elizabeth was the last of 5 children born to William R. Irwin and Annie A. Blair. Her siblings were Maggie, Flossie, Buddy and Sissie. Elizabeth was married to Frank Joseph Hilvers August 16, 1947 at St Vincent De Paul Catholic church in Los Angeles, Ca and had four children. Robert Stephen, James Francis, Rosemary Eileen and Frank Richard. After sending the last of her four children to kindergarten Elizabeth attended College of Sequoias and Fresno State University and earned a nursing degree. She worked fulltime while attending school and raising the kids. After earning her degree Liz enjoyed working as a psychiatric nurse at Tulare View hospital. In a later career shift, Liz and her husband refitted their large 2 story home on S. Court Street in Visalia into a care home where they provided loving home care to elderly who became like family members. Always a lover of growing things Liz started the Tulare County chapter of the herb society. She also dearly loved music and had a beautiful voice. Her children fondly remember her playfully singing songs to them like "Three Little Fishies in the Deep Blue Sea", "There's a Hole in the Bucket", "I'll Take the High Road and You take the Low Road and I'll be in Scotland Before Ye", . She also enjoyed and often sang Standards by Doris Day and Andy Williams such as "Que, Sera, Sera" or Moon River. In later years she was especially fond of Josh Grobin and loved watching "Dancing with the Stars". Upon retirement, Liz and her husband Frank moved to Hermit, CA to be near her sister Anne (Sissie). After several years there they pursued their dream of moving to Oregon and opening an herb farm with son James. In their 70's Liz and Frank then moved to Corvallis to be near their daughter. They absolutely loved and were very active at Samaritan Retirement Village where she helped spearhead efforts to raise funds for a bus for the village that provided much needed handicapped transportation. Among her many efforts she made crafts, greeting cards, and initiated the idea of selling parking spaces during the football games and Sees Candy. She also wrote a grant to Hewlett Packard to help fund the bus and joined in helping raise over $100,000 to purchase a bus that helped many of the residents to enjoy outings and shopping or medical appts. While in Corvallis Liz treasured her time as part of a writers group called "Peeps". They met weekly to encourage, and support each others writing by providing thoughtful and helpful critiques. Members of "Peeps were instrumental in helping Liz write numerous articles for publication, her book "Making Do" and her historical novel about Scotland. Liz is fondly remembered by members of the "Peeps" writing group: "Liz was a plain-speaker. I always knew where she stood, and she never hid her true feelings about things. That made her an excellent critic of our writing. If I got a very good comment from her, I knew I had succeeded in my writing. And if I got a very critical comment, I knew I needed to change something. She was sincere yet funny, and proud of her Scottish blood. Her writing gave me a tremendous window on the times of her youth and a newfound appreciation of just how good people have it these days. We will miss her dearly". "She could get away with saying things with a level of bluntness that nobody else would have been able to get away with! Yet when she liked a piece, her praise was cherished." I loved Liz's directness so much. Her feedback was always valuable. Liz was also a big football fan. She enjoyed watching it on TV and being a season ticket holder at Oregon State University Beaver Football games in Corvallis. She loved to recite the background of many players and coaches and debate the merits of each team. On fall Saturdays she would often be found proudly attired in Osu colors of Orange and black and sporting a "Beaver Believer" sweatshirt. Two years ago due to declining health Liz reluctantly left beautiful Oregon to follow her daughter back to their hometown of Visalia, CA. and was welcomed into Rosemary's home to live out her days. She is survived by 3 children, two sons, Robert Hilvers, Frank Hilvers and one daughter Rosemary Hilvers-Lacey. Liz was preceded in death by her husband Frank in 2000 and her son James in 2005. She is also survived by 10 grandchildren (Rob, Amy, Megan, Sean, Mick, Ember, Jade Hilvers of Visalia CA, and Seth, Noah and Rose Lacey of Oregon), and five great grandchildren (Lilly, Madison, Kiley, Locke and Cecelia). Memorial gifts may be made to the Samaritan Village Bus Fund, 285 NW 35th St, Corvallis, OR 97330 Hadley-Marcom Funeral Chapel in Visalia, CA has been entrusted with arrangements. Special thanks to Kaweah Delta Hospice and nurse Diane who provided caring and compassionate support so we could honor her final wish to die at home surrounded by loving family and in the company of her beloved pets Minnie and little Bill. Please enjoy the following poem which Hospice gave us which provided much comfort. Gone From My Sight by Henry Van Dyke I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone" Gone where? Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me -- not in her. And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!" And that is dying...