Shunk Lineage

My grandmother was a Shunk. Wilma Shunk (June 1921-March 1991) was the daughter of Ora (Orra) Chloe (Faulkner) and John Shunk. Her grandparents were Sam Shunk and Julia Ann (Auten).

John Shunk and Sarah Auman were the parents of Samuel Shunk, my gg-grandfather. I know nothing further about them at this time.

Samuel was born 12 January 1854 in Tuscarawas County, Ohio. He died in Indiana 3 November 1912. His wife was Julia Ann Auten, and they had 9 children. John Emery, their fourth child, was my great-grandfather.

John Emery was born in Indiana 2 May 1881, and died in Villa Grove, Douglas County, Illinois on 18 February 1958. He is buried in Villa Grove with his wife, Chloe Faulkner.

Mom's maternal grandfather was John Shunk. She doesn't remember a lot about him, but recalls that he was a laid-back, unambitious man. She also remembers that his wife, Chloe, constantly nagged him about getting a "real job." He was a grave digger by trade, and in a small town like Villa Grove, it was not a profitable one.

Wilma was a very independent woman. She had a job in bookkeeping when it wasn't fashionable for women to do so. She divorced her husband when he no longer suited her (she maintained that he was unfaithful; other accounts suggest that he adored her). She remarried divorced man, and had two sons with him. All the while, she worked at her own business.

My mother is the product of that first, short marriage. She never knew Edward Kelly, only the stories that she could get from other family members. She found her mother a difficult person to live with at times, but worked for her in the bookkeeping business until Wilma died.

Her children mourned her loss deeply. Wilma was very much a matriarch, and kept her fingers on the pulse of her children's lives. She was a driving force in the family, even when no one agreed with her.

Wilma loved to travel. With her second husband, Everett Offutt, she would go to Las Vegas once a year, and other destinations, besides. After Everett died, she continued to travel with her friends. She took three cruises (that I recall), and took a tour of Europe, just a year before she died.

After returning from Europe, she went to Vegas for what was to be the last time. She commented to the family that she felt guilty "spending their inheritance." Everyone encouraged her to do so; "It's your money, you worked for it, you spend it!"

Wilma had a rather odd collection: eggs. Ceramic, crystal, stone, plastic, real, wooden, metal EGGS. Her clients, many of whom were also travelers, would bring her souveniers from all over the globe. There are over 200 pieces in that collection now

When I was still young enough to not understand tact, I asked her "Can I have your eggs when you die?" Looking back now, I cringe at that, but Mom always assured me that she was relieved to know what to do with them all

One particular client of Wilma's still brings eggs to my mother to give to me. (My mother, Wilma's daughter Sharon, took over the bookkeeping business when Wilma died.) I pick up unusual pieces, myself, when I find them... but it still feels like I am buying something for Grandma's collection.

Wilma was not a cookie-baking grandma. She and I went antiquing, to flea markets, shopping. She was an elegant woman who knew what she wanted from life, and took it.

Even though her health was less than perfect, she did what she wanted, and on her own terms. Perhaps as a mother, I wouldn't have liked her much. I know she made my mother's life difficult at times. But as a woman, she was a force to be reckoned with. She had Connections. She Knew people. And I wish I had known her better.

This is my tribute to that incredible woman.

"The last time Mother made her lemon pie was a very memorable one. She had made the pie for Mike for his birthday, since that was his favorite. Donna sat down with her piece and took a bite. You could see her trying not to make a face. She bravely took another bite, saying nothing.

"Mike was not so subtle. ‘Mom,’ he shouted into the kitchen, ‘what did you do to this pie?’ Mother tasted it, and immediately realized that she’d forgotten the sugar. She was mortified." (told by Sharon Boughner)

Grandma is not the only member of the family to do odd things to pies. A neighbor, whose favorite pie is cherry, was treated to Mom’s own version of it. She bought canned cherries, but accidentally bought cherries that hadn’t been pitted. Jim said it was the ‘best pie he’d ever had,’ as he spit out cherry stones.

Perhaps it runs in the family. I made a sweet potato pie for a friend who’d joined us for one Thanksgiving dinner. I asked if there was anything special I could cook for him, since he was alone for the holiday. His request was sweet potato pie.

I didn’t have a recipe, so I got one from a book. It called for bourbon in the filling, and I had to substitute whiskey from one of those tiny airplane bottles. It baked, and baked, and baked, and ever got quite done. After it had been baking well over an hour, I took it out, thinking that was the way it was supposed to be. It wasn’t.

We each took a bite, and the alcohol, which was supposed to cook out, had not. It was just awful! I felt awful. And Mom wonders why I don’t like to make pies…