Lorena

A Not So Short Biography

By her son, Robert Kenneth Schomp

Martha Lorena Fox was born on October 7, 1902, in Knoxville, Tennessee, the only one of James Richard and Dora Jane (Green) Fox’s nine children who was not born in Oregon. She was called “Lorena” at the request of the mail carrier on their route who was a Confederate veteran of the Civil War. The song “Lorena” was a favorite of Confederate soldiers. It was the carrier’s best buddy’s favorite song, because his girl back home was named Lorena. His friend was killed in the war, and as a memorial to him he asked that if their child was a girl that she be named Lorena. And she was.

When Lorena was only four months old Jim and Dora, along with several other members of the Green family, traveled by train to Oregon to begin a new life there. Can you imagine traveling that far with an infant in the days before disposable diapers? Dora had to wash out the diapers by hand in the rest room and hang them up to dry over the pot-bellied stove at one end of the car, which was the only source of heat in the car. Remember, this was wintertime.

As the oldest of nine children, Lorena shared much of the responsibility for helping Dora raise the children, as well as many of the other household chores; especially when Dora was helping Jim in the fields. For the youngest of the nine, “Sis” was more like a second mother than a big sister.

One of Mom’s most vivid childhood memories revolved about incident that occurred when she was only nine years old. Grandma was still in bed, having only recently given birth to Thelma (Bob was the one of the nine to be born in a hospital) when Grandpa (bless his sometimes-unthinking heart) invited some people from church home to dinner after the service. Mom was expected to prepare dinner for these people. She had to stand on a box to reach the top of the stove and kept running back and forth to the bedroom to ask Grandma what to do next. Not one of the people Grandpa brought home offered to help her. To her dying day, Mom would still bristle with anger when she told that story.

Mom was “tough.” She rode a horse as well as any man, could milk cows as fast, climbed mountains, and was not afraid to put members of the male species in their place. She told me how she chased some boys who were teasing her and some other girls unmercifully. She picked up a snake, and whirling it over her head, she chased them out of the schoolyard. They never bothered Mom again.

Untypical of young women of that era, Mom had a thirst for knowledge and a desire to get a college education. She worked her way through “Normal” school in Salem as a waitress and as a maid for a family in Salem for her room and board. Grandpa was opposed to it. He insisted that women had no need of an education. He told her if she went off to school, he would come get her and bring her back. “I’ll run away and get my education if you do!” she told him. “I’ll come and get you!” Grandpa said. “I’ll run away again!” Mom said. Finally, Grandpa relented, but vowed he’d not give her a cent; she would have to do it on her own. Grandma, on the other hand, encouraged Mom and would secretly save some of her “egg” money to send to Mom to help her out. You might say Mom was an early Feminist. After women were given the vote she always voted and even after her marriage she always signed her name as Lorena Fox Schomp.

After receiving her degree, Mom was hired as the first-grade teacher in the “grammar” school in Brownsville, Oregon. She had the privilege of being Irene and Bob’s teacher. Between the two of them, they decided that it would not be proper to call her “Sis” at school. She was “Miss Fox.” But the minute they left the school yard, she was “Sis” again.

My Dad, Kenneth Knight Schomp, was born on March 14, 1899 Ralph Clifford and Jean Savage Schomp. His mother died when he was 11 and Dad was on his own by the time he was 14. At 17 he lied about his age and joined the army where he attained the rank of Sergeant in the Transportation Corps. Germany and Mexico had a treaty that if America entered the war on the side of the Allies, Mexico would declare war on America. The army had considerable number of troops stationed along the U.S.-Mexico border in case this happened, and Dad was one of those troops. He loved to say, “I fought the Kaiser in El Paso, Texas.

After the war Dad went to work for the Southern Pacific Railroad (hence my love of trains). On his vacation in 1925 or 26, Dad visited his sister and brother-in-law, Jean and Carl Stewart of Brownsville. Mom was their daughter Marjean’s teacher. The whole family thought Mom and Dad would be good match, and so a meeting was planned. Marjean wanted to rent a love seat so Miss Fox and Uncle Kenneth would have to sit close to each other. Mom and Dad hit it off immediately.

One evening at dinner, Grandpa talked about the great young man he had met in the field that day (Dad was helping Uncle Carl with the harvesting). “Carl Stewart’s brother-in-law, Kenneth Schomp was his name. He was the nicest young man I ever met; agreed with everything I said.” “I know,” Mom said, “I’m going to the dance with him.” “I knew there was something wrong with him,” Grandpas said, “No young man is really that nice.”

Mom and Dad carried on a long-distance correspondence romance. Dad returned to Tracy, California, where he wrote letters that could only have been written by a young man in love, a young man with the soul of a romantic poet. I never knew about this side of Dad’s nature until Mom let me read some his love letters after his death. I believe they only actually saw each three times during their courtship; the third time being the time he proposed to her. Mom was sick in bed with yellow jaundice at the time. She had a night lamp, the light level of which was controlled by a dimmer chain. She had it as low as it would go without going out, so Dad wouldn’t see how terrible she thought she looked. She had threatened her younger siblings with their lives if they dared to fool around with that chain. She needn’t worry, Dad was so much in love he would have thought she was beautiful no matter what.

They were married on June 5, 1927, at the home of a dear friend in Jacksonville, Oregon. Grandma didn’t tell Grandpa they were going to a wedding; he just thought they were going to see a friend. On the way, Grandma handed him the wedding announcement: “Mr. & Mrs. James R. Fox of Brownsville, Oregon, proudly announce the marriage of their daughter, Martha Lorena Fox, to Kenneth Knight Schomp, of Tracy California, June 5, 1927.” “It’s a damn lie,” Grandpa said, “I never did no such thing!” Despite the rocky beginning, Grandma and Grandpa both came to love my Dad as a son. In their later years they would spend the winters with Mom and Dad in San Francisco in order to escape Oregon’s harsher winters (and, just as importantly, to give Carl and Irene a rest from Grandpa. No one ever needed a rest from Grandma.). From the beginning Grandma would often query Mom on whether she was “taking good care of Kenneth.”

Mom and Dad returned to Tracy to begin the 50+ years of a truly happy marriage. My sister Patricia Anne was born on April 5, 1931. She quickly became “Daddy’s sweetie fine girl.” Mom’s pregnancy and delivery had not been easy, so Dad was not happy with the idea of having another child. Mom, however, was persistent; she wanted a son. So 5 years later, on August 6, 1936, I was born.

As Dad moved up in the company, we moved several times: Tracy, Mojave, and Stockton, California; Portland, Oregon; Alhambra and San Francisco, California. Dad finished out his career with the SP in the general office in San Francisco as Manager of Personnel (responsible for labor relations) for the entire company. The SP building had a huge “SP” on top. My friends said that stood for “Schomp’s Poppa.” One time when I was coming home from college on the train from LA to SF. there were several somewhat inebriated union men on the train and the conductor must have told them whose son I was. One of them came over to me and said, “Let me tell you something about your Dad: He’s one tough son-of-a-bitch, but he’s fair.” That summed up my Dad.

Wherever we went Mom was always very active in church, accepting any responsibility in which she was asked to serve. She was one of the first women elders at Forest Hill Christian Church in SF, but only after she checked with “her minister son” to see if I felt that it was the right thing to do. I told her, “Go for it, Mom; if anyone deserves to be an elder, you do.” She accepted, of course, and is still remembered at Forest Hill as one of their finest elders.

When sister Myrtle died, Linda Diane Joy (“Stinky”) came to live with Mom and Dad and became my little sister. Once again, Mom was a second mother (this time to her sister’s daughter). She and Dad both loved Linda like a daughter, every bit as much as Pat and me.

When Dad retired in 1965, Mom and he brought a ‘98 Super Oldsmobile and set out to make a complete circle around the country, arriving at our home in Texas in time for Christmas. They were able to make one other great trip, an Alaskan cruise, before Dad suffered a major stroke in 1969, no doubt as a result of the strain of his highly stressful job. It left him almost completely paralyzed on his right side and he only regained little of his speaking abilities. The doctors told Mom he needed to be placed in a nursing home. Mom wouldn’t hear of it; so for 9 & 1/2 years she (with help from Pat) took care of Dad at home, determined that he would live as full a life as possible. They came to our home in Texas every Christmas, so my kids would have a real relationship with them. With my son Tim and Pat’s son Steve in tow they traveled to Washington, D.C. during the Bicentennial year. Dad was thrilled to have two strapping grandsons to escort him around and Mom was able to really enjoy the sights.

They celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary on June 5, 1977, at the Forest Hill Christian Church in SF. It was like a combined Fox and Schomp family reunion and a mini-college reunion for me (my college buddies loved Mom and Dad). The following January (1978) Dad died quietly in his sleep after returning from Christmas in Texas, attending an Elvis concert by Steve the next night, and then the next night going to a fellowship dinner at the church, where Dad wheeled himself over to the door and said “Good-bye” to everyone. I believe he knew his time was short and he wanted to have closure with those he loved.

In 1983, “Nana” (Mom) moved to Sugarland, Texas to live with the Texas Schomps (Bob, Nancy, Tim, Sara, David and Erin), where she was once again a second mother, this time to my children, especially Erin, who was her special “Buddy.” She would spend the summers with Pat in Oregon, to avoid the blistering Texas summers, and the school year with us, to help Nancy out by preparing the evening meals.

In October 1994, Mom fulfilled a long-time dream: to have her picture taken as the matriarch of 5 generations, just as Grandma had several years earlier. On November 4, she passed away at the hospital in Albany after suffering a stroke a week earlier. In the hospital she told Pat to be sure and have treats ready for the neighborhood kids on Halloween night. The very same day that she fully comprehended what had happened to her, Mom slipped into a coma and was gone a few days later. She was determined not to put either Pat or I through what she had to go through for 9 & 1/2 years with Dad. As she had for most of her life, Mom was determined to be in charge of how she lived (and died).

Even in death Mom received the kind of expressions of love she had given out throughout her 92 years. She had memorial services in 3 states; in Albany, OR, for family; San Francisco, CA, for her longtime church family; and Lubbock, TX, where I was serving as pastor (and where Mom and Nancy’s mother, “Rossie” had made themselves much beloved). I can almost hear her saying, “For me? Oh, Bob, you shouldn’t have,” and knowing that she would have loved all the attention.

Love ya’, Mom, Bob