Celebration of Life

Ike and Diana LANIER

2:00 pm, Saturday, May 31

Exhibition Agri-Food Hub & Centre, Lakeview Salon

101 Exhibition Way S, Lethbridge

Tributes, shared stories and a light snack

“There are many wonderful places in the world,

but one of my favorite places is on the back of my horse.” (Rolf Kopfle)

The horse lover, farm superwoman, steadfast friend, eager adventurer, gracious hostess, loyal art supporter, insatiable reader, devoted wife, attentive Nana, mother, sister and aunt, rode off into the mountains on Tuesday, August 23 having recently celebrated her 89th birthday with family.

She had time to look out the windows and watch her horses grazing as she said her final goodbyes. She went peacefully while holding hands with Ike, as they had done for 65 years.

Family and friendship were the pillar of Diana’s life. She left this world after having been visited, called, written to and nourished by so many of those who loved her.  Her sons, Addison and Rod and his wife Lori, cared for her at home, while her son Will called from Africa to check on her and surely her son David is waiting for her in the hereafter. Even her four cherished grandchildren: Zoey, Mark, Paul and Quinn, were able to spend precious moments with her.

Diana grew up on the back of a horse in Turner Valley with 2 siblings: Donna and Rod.  It was this deeply rooted love of horses that shaped so much of her life and even brought her Ike, who won her heart by taking her to a horse show on their first date and later swept her off her feet at the Trianon Gallery dances. Family roots played a big part in the woman she became. She honored her family history and wove culture and traditions into life while including friends.  She shared Trader King, pioneering and Ike’s Kentucky influences in a way that made you curious to know more. She hiked and rode the trails her father forged, she upheld the traditions started by both families and especially embraced Ike’s by baking the best corn bread and diligently following the Derby races each season.

Diana was a woman who knew herself and those who loved her knew her loves. Many of her closest friendships were made while in the company of horses. others, naturally blossomed in the pursuit of her varied interests. She had an unlimited capacity for friendship and anyone in her inner circle felt a deep and intimate connection.  She had a way about her that made others feel special and treasured. She was easy to adore as she made others feel so adored. She shared fun and adventures with so many people. Her genuine sense of wonder and willingness to give everything a try was contagious. She was transparent, extraordinarily honest and accepting. Unknowingly, she inspired many as their role model.

Always a gracious hostess and provider, even when times were tight, she would be pragmatic, see the positive and find creative ways to share her sense of abundance to nurture those around her. The simple pleasure of picketing the grazing horses while sipping a five o’clock glass of red wine was enjoyed by many. Her culinary talents fed countless guests over the years, but the family favorites included: roasted ham or beef, game bird, corn bread and Nana’s fried eggs alongside Ike’s Sunday pancakes with maple syrup.  Her quirky personal favorites were Brussel sprouts or peanut butter-banana-mayonnaise sandwiches but that is more of an acquired taste!

Diana’s home was your home. She made others feel comfortable, not only in her home but also about themselves. Home personified her unique sense of elegance, grace and easygoingness. She had an eye for style, beauty and a deep love of art that enriched her life. Her love of art was not only expressed in the art that filled her life but in her passionate support of local artists, her tireless connection with the SAAG and travel that took her and Ike to exhibits around the globe.

Diana embodied an attitude of gratitude long before it became a trend. She rarely missed an opportunity to send a message or make a call to express her thanks for someone’s efforts. So, even in this final tribute, from her to you: “Thank you for the lifetime of connection, especially these past weeks. Thank you for the visits, calls, messages, flowers, meals, soup, baking, cards, heartfelt words, laughs and showering me with kindness.” To all who loved her; know that she departed with her heart full from a life well lived; hold her in your heart, saddle up and ride on.

A Celebration of Life will be held at a later date.

In lieu of cards or flowers, a memorial donation may be made in the name of Diana Lanier to: The Southern Alberta Art Gallery www.saag.ca/donate or Canadian Cancer Society –Lung Cancer Research 325 Manning Road NE #200, Calgary, AB T2E 2P5 www.cancer.ca

----------------------------------------------------------------------

PRELUDE

Oh , what Poetry takes,  when  it’s  for  someone  as  epic as  my Mother.  I was sure my final words were on the horizon, as I set  to  cross that  field.  No. It  was the  Poem's promise `to finish me first.'  The wind  would  have  me  hear  it each  time I weakened.  Bless  `Mum’, for   blind-courage  she bestowed  me while hearing  my early words,  days before she left.  She sighed.  Surely  that was  her  now knowing  her story would  be stowed  poetically, the way she  loved  to learn  about  Life.  Why I  forgot  all  her others  sighs, 1  given to  each  bold  deed  I'd ever  told  her  I'd do . . .                I'll never know.  Our Poem  was an ever-fading  page in a head wind blowing my best lines back at me all the time. Word's would sparkle, then go dark, turning hope to fear they’d  never match  Mum. Yet  I'm sure Mum  stayed, for I started writing in a canter-like cadence, like what  she'd  always  ridden  across  our  fields.  By her   breath we  crossed   our `finished'  line  464  days later.  1  word  per day.   My  long  view  to You,  dear Audience,  carried   me  too.  I  saw you cared,  for your  tears  watered  my  `panorama -poem -plaques',  so  today  they  portray  the  sight  &  sentiment  that  slowly  exploded  around  Diana’s  Willow  on  a  winter’s  eve, year  2021.   My  camera  captured  that  `evening  of   our  live's',   the  beauty  of  a  wise  woman  &  all  of our  farm's  land  at  once.  My  father,  Ike,  may’ve  been  standing  up  far  behind  Us,   by  our home  on  the  only  hill  this  Prairie  possesses.  He'd  be  looking,  not  at  a  memory  plaque,  but  south,  as  we  did,  across   that  sky,  flat land  &  magic  light,   to  Mountains.  Over that  image   in your mind ,  if  not  yet  in  your  hand,  I'll  summarize  with  a  sun-set ,   over  the  Ode  I  owed Mum.

•  Diana,  mother  of  me   &   3   other  sons,  was   grand  to  many  children.   She   led   Prairie   Life   like  a  prayer,  like  her  horse,  along  1  horizon  line.          Like  her favourite  Poem,   Emily Dickinson's, `To   make  a  Prairie’ .  Scribed  simply  &  quietly,  in   spring  1853,   it 's   famous   beyond  words   today.

"To   make  a  Prairie   it  takes   a  clover  &    one  bee.  One  clover  &   a  bee.   And  revery.  The   revery   alone   will   do,   If   bee's   are   few."

For  over  170   years,   these   idyllic   words  have  reigned  over  all  Prairies.  For  65  married  years,  Di   bent  a  knee  to  Emily's brevity.                   By  89, Mum  had seen  22,000  prairie -dawn-realities  &  earned   rights to  lay  new  Prairie  truth, "Diana’s  Prairie  Willow", so  close to Emily's  line ,  they  entwine  in  1  enduring  echo;  grace  with  wisdom.  That  flows  through  Mum's family  tree   &   across  all   `Lanier'   land.

An    image,  above,  matches  this  Prelude  &  Poem,   showing all   the   Lanier's   land   were   the stories  taken  place  over  1 30  years,  or  47,500   sun-sets  ... so far.

DIANA's  PRAIRIE  WILLOW.

Explorers ,  Tom  &  Edith  first   trode    the  trails  their  daughters &  son  then  rode.

Pioneers ,  Thom  &  Allene   hoed    their  fields  first  furrows ,  ones  all - sons - since   only  sowed.

And  so  it  flowed,   through  Diana   &  Ike,   hooves  ceded  to  seeders   ingraining  where  their  heirs  hike.

Thoughtful  Diana , Ike’s  fresh  new  farm  wife,  planted  a  Poem  on `Prairie’,  to  which  she’d  live  her  life.

She  rooted  a  Willow  too,   with  just   a  twig &  "revery",  then  carried  on  living   as  one  with   Emily.

If   eyes   follow  the   horizon,   to  the  hills,  to   the  field,  they’ll  find  it  a  Sentinel  now,  on  the  path  where  she  kneeled.

On   later   walks   'round   her   still - pond ,  Di   would   wonder,  ‘bout  Ike’s   Mum’s  pond  thoughts ,   now  100  years  yonder.

Those  still  float  on  the  breeze  unto   this  day,  around  Allene’s  wander -pond,  just  8  acres   away.

Di   lived   well,  not  wildly,    wielding will  against   prairie  Wind.    She   probably   wavered.   Never   did   she   rescind.

She  Did   bridle  her  thoughts,  raised  sons,  raised  crops.  She  rode  her  soul  on  the  right  road . . .   so  Did  what  do  rain - drops.

It   liken's   her  Love  if  the   Willow’s  now  her  Home.  She’d   n’er   be   swept  `way  on   another  prairie  Poem.

Today  while  Prairies  be  all  lines  of  recloned - soul   seeds,  our  end-less  Sky  calls  our  Youth  to  other  bold  deeds.

T ’is   so   vast   they’d  just   flit  away  once  swirled  up  high.  Oh ,  then  we’d   never   make   where   our   Prairie   must   lie.

Why,    if  we  don't   rein  in,   should   rain-storms  still  rumble?     It's    so  stamens    stay.   It's   so   pollen   bees  will   still   bumble ! .

It's    so   our  live's   be   `in - clover' .  So  we   not  need   be  humbled ,  to  cry   over  &  over  `Oh ! . . our  4  seasons   have  crumbled'.

Know   now,   without    their   `Diana’,   1   lone  clover   &   bee,   will    never - ever    bring - back,  what  today  is  Prairie.

Prairie’s   be   sew’d   by   women  &   men,   in  hopes   that   Seed  Rain  Bee   flowers ,  &  if   so   Only   when,

they   fly   enough   kite-like   ambitions   to   fill   larger - than - life  Skies.     Those  dreams   Must   fall - back  into  upraised  eyes,

becoming  Tears . . .  of  Joy,    Or     sorrow,     that  either  Courage,   Or   Fear   seeded.

Whatever  way,     their reason -to -`Be’,   was   we  reap   the   `Revery‘  our   sweet   Prairie  needed.

Though   high   ideals  may   float  Emily’s  poem  to  this  day ,   the  Truth  be   many   Players   must   Play.

Rein  in  your  wild   hopes,  rake  up   all   your   hays,   admire   the   Sky ,  for   it's   the  end   of   such   rays.

Quick,  say  your  Prayers   if  Actors  were  few,    for   where   Prairie  was,     there  will   be  . . .   only  dew.

by  Addison Ike  Lanier       Dec  2022-23