Audrey Mae (Johnson)
Foss
BORN: Oct. 12, 1928 - Two Harbors, MN
DIED: Jan. 24, 1997 - Santa Clarita, CA
The opening quotation from the
1946-47 brochure from St. Luke's
Hospital School of Nursing, where
Audrey embarked on her chosen
career path, states:
"Nursing is an Art,
and if it is to be
made an Art, requires
as exclusive a
devotion, as hard a
preparation as any
painter's or
sculptor's work; for
what is the having to
do with dead canvas or
cold marble, compared
with having to do with
the living body -- the
temple of God's
Spirit. ... It is one
of the Fine Arts; I
had almost said the
finest of the Fine
Arts."
¨ FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE
Most who came to know Audrey
Mae (Johnson) Foss during one of
the various phases of her 68-year life
soon learned that, among other
things, she was a Nightingale disciple
and a caregiving artisan of
considerable skill, experience and
compassion. In fact, many whose
lives she touched might easily have
come away with the impression that
Audrey was the nursing profession's
equivalent of 'The Natural' -- that the
sharing of her medical abilities and
healing love seemed to require so
little effort.
The reality is that she became such a
thoughtful and caring person the old-
fashioned way: She worked
diligently at it all her life. While
Audrey was herself experiencing
life's ups and downs, between her
1928 birth in northern Minnesota to
her passing last week in southern
California, she was continuously
practicing her special art of treating
others with kindnesses, large and
small.
As we now gather to grieve the
recent passing of our beloved mother
and grandmother, only sister, trusted
friend, nurturing neighbor and
professional colleague, it's easy to
allow ourselves to be overwhelmed
by waves of sadness. While it is, in
part, healthy to express in our own
ways the pain we each associate with
her death, we also know that Audrey
would want us to celebrate her life's
accomplishments and recall our most
pleasant memories.
This was the lesson and the gift she
leaves us: To enjoy life's best
moments, to endure with dignity and
faith its more challenging times, and
to look for opportunities to share our
good experiences with others and,
when needed, to assist those who are
suffering to cope and to hope. By
doing so, we can help each other's
bleak moments become bearable,
and our better moments become
memorable.
While Audrey's medical training
often proved useful as she dealt with
others facing life's challenges, it was
her often-practiced belief that
laughter is indeed among life's best
medicines that we'll remember as one
of her trademarks.
Even in her final years and months,
she taught us that sharing a good
laugh or a loving smile often is the
best available cure for maladies of all
kinds, curable or not. And she
practiced what she preached. First
diagnosed with and treated for cancer
almost seven years ago, with several
recurrences, Audrey's calm,
accepting nature persevered. She
helped us deal with the seemingly
inevitable outcome -- by continuing
to share light-hearted moments that
we will long treasure. For example,
while being temporarily bald during
recovery from radiation treatments
for a malignant tumor, she liked to
lessen the uneasiness of others by
publicly wearing her "No Hair Day"
cap.
Not everything in Audrey's own life
was filled with such humor. She was
born October 12, 1928 in Two
Harbors, Minnesota, a small town on
the south- western shore of Lake
Superior, to Captain Herman and
Edna (Anderson) Johnson. When
Audrey was in sixth grade, her
mother died at age 43. Five years
later, Herman -- a Norway-born,
Great Lakes tugboat pilot -- married
Hilma (Carlson) Johnson, who
became a dear step-mother to
Audrey and her older brother Adler.
[Herman died in 1965 at age 72, and
Hilma lived until 1986, passing away
at the age of 87.]
Following Lutheran confirmation
and subsequent high school
graduation in 1946 in Two Harbors,
Audrey moved to Duluth, a larger
city a bit further south along Lake
Superior's so-called "Norwegian
Riviera" to begin her healthcare
education at the St. Luke's Hospital
School of Nursing. After graduation
in 1949, Audrey passed the state
nursing certification exams early the
next year. During a previous student
internship at the St. Peter State
Hospital in south-central Minnesota,
Audrey had met her husband-to-be.
In the fall of 1949, she married
Gordon Foss, who was employed in
a family- owned grocery store, and
she moved to St. Peter.
"Anxious to put my nursing skills
into practice," as she later wrote in a
lengthy reflection on her first two
decades of nursing, Audrey was
hired at the same state hospital and
embarked on her career. Assigned to
the hospital's psychiatric ward, she
described her eye-opening and
disturbing first six months as an R.N.
as "seeing a great deal of mental
illness, seeing the type of treatment
that was given, [and] it all seemed
rather hopeless and shocking."
Nonetheless, she felt a keen empathy
for the patients whose routine
treatment "ranged from humane care
to sadism," including electric shock
and lobotomy.
On the brighter side, she added, her
young life had been "exposed to a
whole new, formerly unknown
population, and I had met and
learned to care for many 'strange'
people." For the majority of these
patients, she wrote, St. Peter State
Hospital was to be their home.
"There were no interested families,
no friends, no family contacts, no
visitors, no birthday presents and no
Christmas packages," she recalled.
The nurses represented the only
familiar faces and calming voices.
Audrey soon added the intertwined
roles of homemaker and mother to
her resume, with the births of four
children: Kurt in 1950, Kristi in 1951,
Kathy in 1955 and Kay in 1957.
From 1956 to 1967, she worked
part-time as a night-shift nurse at the
local community hospital to "keep a
finger in the pie, while concentrating
on raising her family. Yet she missed
nursing, especially the varied duties
nurses performed in small-town
hospitals, which she found to be "a
rewarding and enjoyable
experience."
"Nursing in a rural community is a
constant learning experience,"
Audrey wrote. "The challenges are
endless. ... In the small hospital, there
is more personal involvement; the
nurse gets to know her patients more
intimately, meets their families,
visitors, friends, and relatives, and
will continue to meet and associate
with some of these people out in the
community later."
She brought the same joy for making
people happy to her role as a mother.
An invitation to the birthday party of
one of the Foss children in St. Peter
was a coveted prize, with the annual
gatherings hosted by Audrey offering
some of the best food, fun and
games around. Likewise, family
holidays were celebrated annually
with her special flare, always
featuring a number of traditional
Nordic customs and recipes
--including dozens of kinds of
cookies -- and other festive touches
that reflected in particular her father's
heritage. She also started several new
family traditions, something her
children know will be a tough act to
follow.
"She was very industrious and
creative in her pursuits," says
daughter and friend Kristi, now living
in nearby Castaic. "Mom loved to
entertain --she would set a beautiful
table and enjoyed baking wonderful
things for everyone. She always
made holidays memorable by her
hard work and creativity."
Among her mother's varied hobbies
and skills, youngest daughter Kay
remembers "the lovely dresses Mom
sewed for her girls, and the
wonderful smells always in our
kitchen" -- including the aroma of her
neighborhood- renown, freshly
brewed "egg coffee" that kept friends
coming back.
In 1967 Audrey returned to full-time
nursing, accepting a better-paying
position at the state hospital. She was
delighted to discover that care for the
mentally ill patients had improved
significantly during the previous
decade.
"The whole atmosphere was
changed," she wrote of her re-entry
to the state hospital nursing staff.
"There was enthusiasm, caring and
interest. They treated the patients
with respect, dignity and real
concern. ... New, enthusiastic R.N.s
were providing leadership, guidance
and therapy --not just custodial
care."
Audrey later accepted a position at
the nearby Minnesota Security
Hospital in St. Peter --"a hospital
within a prison setting," as she
described it. The court- assigned
patients had severe psychiatric
problems, and many were sent here
after committing serious, even
gruesome, crimes against society.
But she approached them all with
kindness, and was rewarded, even
forming genuine friendships with
several. "I got to know them as
people, not as criminals," Audrey
wrote, "and felt quite secure among
them." One man with a very violent
history, in fact, became her
self-proclaimed body guard and
protector.
A security hospital nurse's roles
varied widely, she wrote, including
"team member, office nurse, school
nurse, emergency nurse, physician's
assistant to pill pusher. We were also
mother, sister, friend, secretary,
cook, recreational director, dance
partner, chaperone, hostess, tour
guide, therapist and even chauffeur."
With a deteriorating marriage, she
sought and was granted a divorce in
1970. The next year she and her two
youngest daughters moved to
Minneapolis after she accepted
employment at the local Veteran's
Administration Hospital. Assigned to
the Cancer Chemotherapy ward, she
quickly found that the "workload
was heavy and the mortality rate
high." Physically separated from the
rest of the VA's buildings and
facilities, the cancer ward received
minimal recognition from other
departments, the staff felt. So
following the principles explained in
a newly published book "On Death
and Dying" by Dr. Kubler-Ross,
Audrey and her colleagues
developed and presented a workshop
to familiarize other VA nurses on
how to recognize the stages of dying
and deal with terminally ill patients.
After six years in the Twin Cities,
with her children grown and living on
their own, Audrey made a life
decision to move to a warmer
climate. In 1977, she applied for and
received a transfer to the veteran's
hospital in Brentwood, California,
near daughter Kristi.
That summer, son Kurt, then also
living in Minneapolis, again helped
her pack and truck her well-traveled
possessions, this time across the
country. The trip, he recalls, was a
real 'adventure in moving,' including
automotive calamities, sultry weather
and a stopover in Las Vegas.
"Nearing the end of the trip, we
decided we deserved a break," Kurt
says, "so we treated ourselves to a
nightclub show featuring
then-upcoming comedian Steve
Martin. We were nearly rolling on the
floor in hysterics during his
'Wild-and-Crazy Guy' routine. I
always enjoyed seeing and hearing
my mother laugh, and that night was
one of the funniest we spent
together."
After a year adjusting to life in the
L.A. area, Audrey made one last job
change, accepting a position at the
Brotman Medical Center in Culver
City, California, where she lived and
worked until her retirement in 1993.
She then moved once more to Santa
Clarita to be near her two oldest
daughters and their families. As
always, she and Mitsy, her constant
Shih Tzu companion, quickly made
numerous new friends in both
locations.
Each time Audrey had moved during
her life, she left behind a wealth of
enduring friendships, many from her
healthcare-based world. The bonds
they formed -- during nursing shifts,
working on related professional
activities, at church-related functions,
over coffee-centered "gab sessions,"
and on shopping and traveling
excursions -- remained strong across
the miles and years. With each
subsequent relocation, Audrey's
address book expanded; likewise, the
number of incoming holiday
greetings arriving annually from her
wealth of friends steadily increased,
bearing a wide range of national and
international postmarks.
Among Audrey's more exotic trips
were getaways to Europe, Japan,
Hawaii and cruises to Mexico and
the Caribbean. Perhaps the most
memorable were several in the early
'80s to visit daughter Kathy, then
stationed overseas with the U.S.
Army. One of their joint European
excursions included a much-
anticipated trip to Melbu, a small
fishing village on an island in
northern Norway, where Audrey's
father was born 90 years earlier.
There she enjoyed meeting for the
first time many new relatives, who
soon became her friends and
penpals. A few weeks later and many
miles south, she created additional
fond memories while spending time
with more of her father's kinfolk in
Oslo, including his only two living
sisters.
In 1986, Audrey returned to
Minneapolis to witness the birth of
her first grandson on July 16. Once
again, her nursing instincts took over.
A pair of novice parents -- son Kurt
and wife Cindy -- found themselves
blessed with greatly appreciated,
angelic-like assistance when baby
Steffen arrived home. "Gramma
Audrey" flew back several times to
visit and to babysit. Closer by in
Castaic, daughter Kathy and
husband Jon West later provided her
with two more grandsons, Trevor
and Cody, whom she enjoyed seeing
as often as possible, at her home and
theirs. Kay and husband Tom
brought daughter Kiersten -- the first
grandchild -- to see her grandmother
on their annual California trip.
Plans for more travels in her
retirement years were cut short by
the cancer diagnosis. Just as Audrey
had lived -- with a keen sense of
independence, inner strength and
faith in people's goodness -- she
faced the prospect of eventually
dying from this unforgiving disease,
one with which she had considerable
experience as a cancer-ward nurse in
Minneapolis.
Audrey told friends she had lived a
rich and varied life, and did not fear
death. Indeed, she was a woman of
many talents and experiences, her
children fondly recall, which
included: being a skilled cook and
baker; mastering the arts of sewing,
knitting and embroidery; loving to
read fiction and historical novels;
serving as a Cub Scout den mother;
learning massage therapy; studying
to be a tour guide; taking classes on
Norwegian; conquering the online
world, especially swapping email
messages with other Shih Tzu
owners across the world; learning
sign language; tracking her family
history; earning a certificate in
sailing; and dabbling in hand-writing
analysis.
In her last weeks, Audrey was
comforted by visits from many
family, friends and neighbors; by a
steady flow of cards, letters and
phone calls; and by the humane care
of VNA hospice attendants and
nurses. As Audrey's prognosis was
changed to terminal in late 1996,
eldest daughter Kristi willingly took
on the "guardian angel" role her
mother had performed for many
others during her lifetime. Kristi, with
understanding from husband Bill and
step-son Leo, lived with her mother
in those final weeks, leading and
coordinating the eventually
around-the-clock care as Audrey's
health deteriorated quickly after
Christmas. Kathy also spent
increasing amounts of time with her,
allowing Audrey to spend special
time with her youngest grandsons.
"Seeing the boys always brought a
special smile to her face," says
Kathy, "no matter how ill she was
feeling."
Kurt, now living in Madison,
Wisconsin, visited Audrey in
mid-January, returning again a week
later. Her brother Adler and family
came from San Diego several times
to extend their support. Clergy and
others from her Bible study class
came to talk and pray with her. Even
in what proved to be her last hours,
she had many visits from friends
who came to hold her hand and to
whisper their good-byes. As the
result of these combined efforts, she
was never in any physical or spiritual
pain.
At 3:13 p.m. on January 24, 1997,
Audrey died peacefully at home on
her own terms, with her two
California daughters and a long-time
family friend, Maxine Lorge, at her
bedside.
"I'll always cherish my parting
words," says Kristi. "I wasn't going
to say good- bye. I told her that I
would see her later in heaven and bid
her to go with Jesus."
In the written recounting of her first
two decades as a nurse, Audrey
described some of the most
significant changes she witnessed in
the profession, and how her own
values and approach to providing
care -- particularly as a long-term
psychiatric nurse -- were influenced
accordingly.
Writing in 1978, she concluded by
saying:
"As I try to remember back and
measure how my involvement and
association in Psychiatry has affected
my life, I can identify many changes
in myself. I can recognize that I was
a rigid person, judgmental, quick to
criticize that of which I didn't
approve, and not always as aware of
other people's sensitivities as I was of
my own. I now see myself as more
relaxed, more liberal, more tolerant,
able to see the shades of gray
between the black and white and less
inhibited. I feel that I am still
growing."
"I believe that my involvement in the
world of Psychiatry has been
beneficial to me in facing crises
which have occurred in my own life,
and also in being a better parent to
my four children. They are now all
emancipated and independent; I see
them as healthy, happy, productive
people, and most important of all, we
are all good friends and enjoy each
other's company. This to me is the
greatest accomplishment of my life."
Despite the deep sadness we -- her
children -- feel today, we also are
honored and proud to be reminded
that our mother counted us among
her closest friends. For as we have
continuously witnessed, as Audrey
Mae (Johnson) Foss journeyed
through life, she enriched the lives of
many, many people who also
considered her to be a very special
friend.
We have found considerable comfort
this past week, and again today, in
knowing that we share our great loss
with all who knew and loved our
mother nearly as much as we did.
And as we always will.
In closing, we're sharing a prayer we
found amidst a selection of Audrey's
most important personal papers,
penned in her own beautiful
handwriting:
"Father, when we, too,
must leave our
companions and go into
our garden of prayer,
remind us that we do
not go alone, for
Jesus has gone before
us. Give us the
strength through your
love to endure the
suffering of our
lives, as Jesus did.
Amen."
Eulogy written by Kurt Foss
Read by Kathy Foss West
Memorial service held at
Bethlehem Lutheran Church
Canyon Country, California
January 30, 1997 -- 2:00 p.m.
This is what heaven looks like to me -
I like to think of her here
