Please email doug@bremnerhistory.com to send your pictures and links.
Avaton Turnbow, 10/12/08, friend, wrote,
Dear Doug. I was tremendously moved by the memorial you put together
for
your mother. The production was so professionally done your beautiful
family literally came alive before my eyes.As I viewed the revue of the
Bremner families and particularly the dedication at the cemetery, I was
overwhelmed with the vibrations and the strongest feeling that Laurnell
was there watching the entire event. She was unbelievably happy and
there was nothing but pure unconditional love around her.
There was also a strong feeling of liberation as if a
burden had been finally lifted. I knew her and you kids when we all
attended the Unitarian church in Olympia and when our families
all participated in the various PTA programs and fund raisings at
Boston Harbor school where she was so alive and often the life
of
the party. I had my shop and office on Harrison Avenue and often on
my way to work from our home on Fishtrap road she would pass me in a
really cute little red car, I think it was a Volkswagon convertible
(the only one in town at the time) with her hair and scarf flying in
the
wind. I remember it reminded me of that dancer Isadora Dunken [sic] at the
time. Her untimely demise stunned and shocked everyone who knew and
loved her.
I know and feel your mother is indeed in Heaven and she has made
this known because of your marvelous presentation and family dedication
you so successfully put together. I salute you and wish you and your
family the very best. (Avaton Turnbow)
[Editorial Note: Isadora Duncan indeed wore a scarf which led to her
untimely demise at the age of 50 when she was driving in an Italian
sports car in France and it got caught in the spokes of the car wheel
and dragged her out of the car. She was quoted as saying "Je vais a la gloire"
but another version was that she actually said "Je vais a l'amour"
(i.e. referring to the young Italian she was riding with)
and that the woman who saw her last was too embarrased to give the
true last words.
Doug Bremner
Kathy Erickson Jarvis, 9/29/08, a niece on the Bremner side
Hello, Doug,
I was looking for something on the Bremner history page the other day, and noticed the beautiful
memorial you've posted for your mom. Even I was only a child when she died, so I remember her
from a child's perspective, but what I recall most clearly was, of course, her wonderful smile.
And I don't ever remember seeing her without a smile. She always seemed so warm and cheerful
-- sparkling, in a quiet way, is as close as I can come to describing it -- and interesting to
be around. I liked her very much.
The one specific recollection I have of her was not anything significant, so I don't know why
I remember it after all these years, but it was from a time when we were all together in Lynden.
A number of us kids were watching TV in the living room, where it was kind of dark, and whatever
it was that we were watching was sad. The adults were in the kitchen, sitting at the old, pink
formica table, and it was light in the kitchen. Laurnell was sitting with her back to us, but
she turned to look into the living room, and saw all of our sad faces, because of what we were
watching. I just remember the combination of sympathy and amusement in her expression, and
the tremendous love when she looked at whichever of you was among us (I don't remember exactly
who it was). Then she kind of turned back toward the adults at the table, and they continued
talking and laughing together. For some reason, that small incident, in those circumstances,
left me with a profound, and powerfully comforting, feeling of all of us being bound together,
part of a terrific family. I guess that's why it stayed in my mind.
Best wishes to you and to all of your family.
Love,
Kathy
Jean Turnbow, 8/9/08, friend
Hi Doug
Such a surprise to find your [website]. Since reading through it all,
I've been awash in memories myself-- when I saw Anne's smile I was particularly
struck that there was Laurnell again -- on the page her beautiful smile!
The comments people made about your mom were right on. Folks get pretty
lush on such occasions but these comments were not exaggerations. I still
find myself using some expressions of hers when I talk with people.
You and your family look wonderful-- so nice to see the pictures-- thank you.
Names and faces are still whirling in my head.
Love, Jean Turnbow
John Giovine, 7/30/08, friend
Hello Doug--
It is a nice surprise to hear from you. I wrote to your brother
Steve a month or two ago just out of the blue. I have always had a
deep residing where-are -they-now curiosity regarding people in my
life, wondering what ever happened to ol' ....
I remember you as the youngest of the Bremner clan, I vaguely recall
Steve and trying to "ditch" you in order to do big (10 y/o) kid
stuff. I have very fond memories of your family, especially
Laurnell. She was truly the mother all kids dreamed of having,
loving, supportive, fun, and all embracing of life. I know my mom
Sally and Laurnell were kindred spirits in their progressive, avant-
garde, ways, and loving approach to life.
I can still vividly recall the morning I heard of Laurnell's death
and the shear shock in the reality of her passing. Though I was
young, I was no stranger the death, and yet Laurell's passing was
such a crime against nature and the very essence of life's spirit
itself I still shake my head at the reality of her loss. Sally
looked as if someone had eviscerated part of her soul that day, as
she was rife with grief.
Sadly, Sally died in April of 2006. I know that she too would be
deeply touched by what you are doing. Honestly, outside of the early
death of my father, and the at birth deaths of her two daughters,
Laurnell's passing was one Sally always mourned deeply.
On a personal note, I also have done considerable work in the last
two decades in understanding the deep ramifications in regard to
death of my father, that still echo through my family to this day.
I found it to be a remarkable, revealing and cathartic journey to
find understanding, a varying degree of completion (it is quite a
process), and give voice and loving resonance to our loved ones...
past and present.
I read Katherine Turnbow Peil's wonderful letter on your web site
(the Turnbow's were a great group). It is a treasure that brought
forth many memories for me. I would be honored to contribute to
Laurnell's web site as well.
Please give my best to your family. Feel free to write or call me
any time.
Take good care,
John
From Madeline Dickerson, 7/29/08, granddaughter
One of my biggest regrets thus far in my life (that only being 19 years) is not
being able to have met either one of my biological grandmothers. It is perhaps
wrong to say that this is a regret because it isn't anything that I have done wrong,
but rather just the way the cards were drawn. Nonetheless, I will always regret never
being able to know the two women I was named after, Madeline and Annie. Never being
able to just sit and listen to their stories... to learn their secrets... to hear their
voices... hold their hands. To really know them.
I have always felt, even when very young, that I have a very strange strong emotional
and spiritual connection to these two amazing women. While this may sound rather odd...
and I've never shared this with anyone until recently... I feel as if I am both of my
grandmothers spirits "reborn" so to speak, in one person. I am them... but I am me.
I think about Madeline and Annie almost every day. Which is strange being that I only
know them in photographs and second hand memories. However, there they are, guiding me
in everything I do... and also everything I love.
I love to bake and I recently realized why I love to bake. It is because ever time I bake
I feel like I am doing something they would have done. I wonder if they had ever made the
same thing I was making... or if they had still been alive would we bake together? What were
their favorite kinds of cookies?
The same thing goes for my love of old films and vintage fashion. Did they sit in the theatres
and watch this same movie when it first came out? Did they like it? Did they hate it? What
was their favorite movie? What clothes did they wear? It is the answers to these questions that I want.
When I was five years old I remember sitting on the bus on my way home from school trying to
get Annie's angel to visit me. I remember repeating over and over in my head... please, please
just let me see you... send me some kind of sign... anything... I promise I'll recognize it.
It didn't work. I broke down in tears when I got of the bus, my mom later telling me that was inconsolable.
I don't necessarily believe in God but I believe in Madeline and Annie. When I was younger I
didn't pray to God but I prayed to them. I would lie in bed at night, eyes shut tight, and I
would pray to them in my head. I would tell them all of things that happened to me that day
and I would ask questions that were never answered. I also remember pleading for a sign that
they were there in the room with me... please just make the pen roll of my night stand in 30
seconds... and then I would start counting. But, I don't think I ever really needed a physical
sign that they were there with me. I knew they were there and I know they are here with me now,
helping me write this.
I am honored to be named after such amazing women. And while I will never get the chance
to meet them in this life, I hope that the way I live my life and the small ways I honor them,
make them proud. Madeline and Annie will forever be in my heart and mind. They will continue
to guide me through life like the grandmothers they are.
From Katherine Turnbow Peil, 7/25/08, friend
As a hopeless outdoorsy tomboy, I usually ran with the boys preferring beachcombing,
climbing trees, and building forts to the traditional and largely mysterious girlie culture.
(Indeed, Steven Bremner, who was bosom buddies with my oldest brother Jon, may have been
my first love – the unattainable older man. He spent a good deal of time at our house,
but at the tender age of six to his nine or ten, I had to worship him from afar, often
sneaking my allowance into his coat pocket when it hung on the rack on the back porch
not far from my bedroom.) But upon rare occasion, I would make the lone trek on my bike
to the other side to the loop to see the Bremner girls. Lynn had an amazing collection
of Barbie dolls that Anne and I would liberate, dress, and playact through various scenarios
while young “Dougy” was relegated to the sideline to play alone with his Leggos.
Their house was sumptuous and elegantly decorated at every turn. I remember a Christmas Tree
dripping in every shade of blue, multicultural art pieces, and the delight of sneaking a peek
into Laurnell’s elegant powder room where their dog Heidi would get scolded for drinking from the toilet.
But mostly, I remember Laurnell as being one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, an elegant
lady, yet with a feminist intellectual fire and a fashionably 60’s countercultural flair. Seems
like I recall her in the kitchen one day smoking a pipe with cigarettes tucked into it, wearing
dungarees, and tossing off scintillating comments and critiques about politics, philosophy and
current events -- impressing me as the multidimensional kind of woman I wanted to be. But my
characteristic image of her was in an elegant scarlet red suit or dress looking very Jackie Kennedyeque
with her dark eyes, raven hair and overall polish. In fact, for years the haunting lyrics of the Beatles’
Yes It Is (“Please don’t wear red tonight”.... “for red is the color that my baby wore”…) would flood
me with empathic pain of what it must have been like for Dr. Bremner to lose his beautiful and vibrant
wife so suddenly, let alone how it must have been for the kids to lose their amazing mother, something
I couldn’t -- or perhaps wouldn’t -- begin to comprehend.
I recall blundering into the family tragedy with a phone call to Anne. It was close to Valentine’s day
and I was preparing Valentine cards for the members of our Girl Scout troop, and had come up two names
short. I casually called her number to ask her to name all of the troop members to help me resolve the mystery.
(Although a year younger than me, Anne had social savvy and a mind like a steal trap even then, as a second-grader.)
Some strange adult answered the phone and in hushed and reverent tones suggested that Anne was there but could
not come to the phone. It was puzzling but also ominously foreboding. The next day the news was all around Boston
Harbor school that Laurnell and been stricken with spinal meningitis and had not survived. It seemed like the
whole event had transpired in only about three days from onset, leaving everyone shocked and reeling. I kept a
respectful distance after that, or maybe I was just too frightened and inarticulate to know what to say or do.
It seemed like the family had a young nanny for a while, but moved away before long and began a new life. Although I
hurt for the kids to have to leave their lovely home and the bucolic paradise of the Fish Trap Loop, it seemed
healthy to start anew somewhere else.
As it turns out, such a formidable challenge may have afforded the Bremner kids an unparalleled strength, as
they all became remarkable human beings. Laurnell would surely be proud.
Thanks a lot Katherine, speaking for her children that means a lot to us.
Doug Bremner
Doug Bremner, son, wrote on 7/22/08
Well I am going to start out. I've been thinking about my mother alot lately,
at first trying to remember things that happened when she died, memories of things
before she died. In fact I made a list of things I remembered from when I was age 3-4.
dancing to 'I want to hold your hand' with stuffed animal.
listening to the chipmunks.
sitting at beach with my girl friend, sand in the bottle.
sitting in the garden. there is a bee and I am invisible.
seeing dust in the rays of the sun - they are atoms.
visiting neighbors - angels, packwood.
I learned the alphabet to letter J (didn't learn the rest of the alphabet until a couple of years later).
I also remember the day she was taken away from us at our house on
Fish Trap Road in Olympia, WA. She never came back.
Lately I remember from the time the feeling of being lost. Also feeling physically ill.
Those memories come back to me as bodily memories.
I spent a couple of years trying to track down who she was, her biological family, etc.
Even that did not bring the full satisfaction I was seeking.
More recently I remembered how much she loved us (loved me) and
believed in us. It was those feelings that led me to start this site.
I cried alot as I wrote it. It hurts to write these words but it is important.