Grandma Simmons lived the last years of her life with her daughter, Zelma, who cared for her.  For a long time she was very sick with pernicious anemia.  It affected her mind.  She had visitors from the other side of the veil.  She’d be heard to say, “Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time,” and would then carry on long conversations.

Grandma Simmons screamed all day and into the night.  Zelma would say, “Mother, please don’t scream.”

Grandma didn’t know that she was screaming.  She’d reply, “I’m not screaming.”  The only way Zelma could get her to stop was to send little 4-year-old Donny in to talk to her.  Donny was able to keep her from screaming.

She got steadily worse.  She couldn’t do anything for herself.  She couldn’t roll over or take herself to the bathroom.  Complicating matters further, Zelma was pregnant with Marjorie.

Grandma Hunt stopped to visit on her way back from uptown.  Grandma Simmons told her, “I want to go home.”

“Well, you are home,” Grandma Hunt replied.

“No, I don’t mean this home.  I want to go home!  Why don’t you come with me?”

“All right,” Grandma Hunt said, “I will.”

That night, Grandma Simmons passed away.  To ease Zelma’s burdens, Grandma Hunt invited Zelma and Dave and their four children to dinner, after which Zelma went home and went to bed.  She was exhausted.

Shortly thereafter, Dave got a phone call telling him to return quickly to his mother’s house because she wasn’t feeling well.  When he arrived back home, Zelma asked him what was wrong.  Dave leaned against the door jamb and said simply, “She’s gone!”

The next morning as Mary and Maretta came down the stairs, the radio was on.  The announcer was reading the obituaries.  The girls heard him say that Annie Folkman Hunt had passed away.  Mary put up two fingers and said, “Both?!”

Grandma Simmons passed away on 22 January 1948.  Grandma Hunt passed away just a few hours later, on the 23rd.  They went home together.

Zelma was seven months pregnant.  There was concern that the stress of losing both mothers in one day would throw her into labor.  That didn’t happen, but the next significant event in her life actually did…actually did throw her into labor.  That next event was Zelma’s birthday, on March 16th.  Maretta and Mary decided to make Zelma a birthday cake.  They’d never made a cake before.  It took them a long time, and they were in no hurry to get it into the oven because they discovered that the batter tasted really good.  It was a 2-layer cake; but even with the icing, because of all the batter that they ate, it turned out to be only one-inch tall.  Zelma laughed so hard that she started labor.  The doctor gave her Demerol or Marjorie would have arrived on Zelma’s birthday.  Instead, she wasn’t born until the next day.

Marjorie was born in the old St. Elizabeth Hospital, which is now a condominium on 4th Street in Baker.  Zelma had already determined that Marjorie would be the baby’s given name, but was still unsure what the middle name should be.  She was considering the name “Colleen.”  She was listening to the radio, which was reporting on St. Patrick’s Day activities around the world.  She heard the reporter mention Shannon Airport in Ireland.  Zelma thought that Marjorie should have an Irish name, so that is how the name Marjorie Shannon Hunt was selected.