My name is Jessica and I am, according to Carol, Carol’s favorite oldest daughter. This is one of the hardest, yet one of the most important speeches that I will ever have to give. It’s an honor to hold the responsibility of eulogizing my mother.

As the daughter of a librarian, I am here today to tell you a story. A story about the life of Carol Curran Sivard. This story starts in 1951 in Jacksonville, Florida. Carol was born to a middle class blue collar working family on October 1st. Her mother was raising 3 older sisters and a brother, while her father worked for National Airline as a mechanic. National Airline moved its location to Dade County so the Curran family packed their belongings and moved to Miami. Carol finished high school in Miami and continued on to attend Barry College where she met my dad, Frank. Dad was attending nearby Biscayne College at the time when they met at a bar while my mom was accompanying her roommate on a date. They dated for several months... Read more and later married.

My childhood is full of wonderful memories with my mom.

I remember as each summer came to an end, my sisters and I were carefully selecting our backpacks & Trapper Keepers for the upcoming school year, and my mom was also prepping for her upcoming school year, cataloging new books that she purchased through grant programs for which she applied, creating clever bulletin boards with sayings like “Reader Today, Leader Tomorrow”, and getting the media center organized for the new school year. During the time of her elementary school career, my sisters and I saw our mom practicing for performances and wearing book character costumes regularly. She was even pulled over by the police one morning on her way to school dressed as Raggedy Ann and she said to the officer, “You wouldn’t give Raggedy Ann a ticket, would you?” I believe he let her go with a warning.

My mom loved being a librarian and media specialist. She was always pushing the bar a little higher each year and anytime there was an opening at a new or better school, she was first in line to apply. Mom accepted the opportunity to open a brand new elementary school, Schwarzkopf Elementary. She was over the moon to be in charge of establishing this library from the beginning, getting to select all of the books that would fill the shelves, cataloging and organizing. She was able to take ownership in this brand new library. But the true testament to my mom’s character and her desire to educate children came when she left Schwarzkopf, a first class A rated school, to teach at Sulphur Springs Elementary, a considerably inferior school in the district. Her heart was driving her to do something more meaningful and impactful with underserved and less privileged children.

As I was thinking back on my childhood with my mom, I recalled my summers throughout my middle and high school years. My days were spent with my sisters and I trying to figure out the most efficient and fun way to enjoy our days at home alone while our parents were at work. Each morning we would wake up with To-Do Lists that mom left for each of us with various chores to be completed on a daily basis. We knew that we could lounge around all day long, watching TV and eating snacks, but by 2 or 3 o’clock, it was time to get serious, and we scrambled to complete our To-Do Lists in as little time as possible. It was critical to tell her when she got home that it took the better half of the day so she would not add more tasks to our lists and we hoped that she would feel sorry for us thinking that we were spending our summer days as child laborers. It did not work and mom’s lists continued to be a consistent part of my childhood.

In addition to the daily cleaning assignments on our lists, we had extra cleaning to do in the morning before the cleaning lady was to come to our house. It was a constant struggle arguing over why we needed to clean so much when she was paying someone to come and do it. She would explain that the cleaning lady can’t clean if all of our stuff is everywhere and much of what we considered cleaning was really only tidying up and putting away our things. During our summer trip to Portugal, on a Wednesday night, mom made an announcement to all of us, “Okay guys, Judeit is coming tomorrow morning, so please make sure you have picked up your rooms.” We got a chuckle about how something never change.

My mom always had a nickname, or endearing name for each of us kids. For Allison it was Miss A. For Lindsay is was PipperSnit. And for me, it has always been Big J. Well that all got pretty complicated when there was suddenly a new Big J in my mom’s life, Julie. The Big J mix-up was exacerbated when I realized that my mom was also mis-spelling my last name. Shortly after meeting Julie, my mom began inserting the letter “b” into my last name, Lumley. It all became very clear to me when I realized that Julie’s last name was Lumb, so naturally, I would now become Jessica Lumbley. I believe she even wrote checks payable to me this way.

I knew that Julie was a very important person in my mom’s life. After they met, I saw real happiness in my mom. I was older now, in my mid-twenties, and she and I were able to talk on a different level, not just as mother/daughter, but also as friends. She shared with me her new found happiness, and I watched my mom blossom into a brand new, better person. I could tell that she was genuinely happy and that made me happy. Julie quickly became a part of our family, and she was the reason for this new amazing woman.

The holidays were always very special to my mom. Every year, she and Julie would host Christmas Eve at their house. The house would be decorated so beautifully. Christmas lights outside, impeccable decorations throughout the house, and not a single pick or ornament out of place on the tree. When we arrived, she could be seen in her kitchen window working on dinner, and as soon as she saw us, she would eagerly wave from the kitchen window and come running to her side door to greet us all with big hugs. Mom and Julie would take the grandchildren to the 4:00 church service, then rush home to make our very traditional Christmas Eve dinner of Cajun Shrimp Stroganoff and Beef Burgundy. Without fail and for as long as I can remember, this is what we always had for Christmas Eve dinner. Mom would make her famous salad that was always a hit, and of course, no meal is complete without Hawaiian rolls. Before dinner, we would all bundle up and take a walk around Lake Roberta with all of the other families and residents of Hampton Terrace to see all of the Christmas lights and luminaries. We stopped all along the way to chat with neighbors - many of you are here today. Dinner would be served once we got back home, and the kids were always chomping at the bit to finish up quickly so we could open presents. And everytime we would leave at the end of the night, it was more hugs and kisses, and exchanging I love you’s. And as we back the car down her driveway to leave, mom was always waving. Waving for us to get back onto her driveway and yelling, “Don’t run over my sprinkler heads!”

Mom retired from the Hillsborough County School District in 2019, and shortly thereafter was forced into lockdown with the rest of the world due to COVID 19. I imagine that this was not how she envisioned her retirement starting off, but nonetheless she used this as an opportunity to begin planning something big. I remember her asking me one day, in all seriousness, “What would you think if I told you that Julie and I were going to move to Portugal?” I looked at her and matter of factly said, “I hope you do!” She appeared mildly perplexed and asked if I was kidding and I told her no way! I told her how awesome it would be and that I couldn’t imagine a better way to enjoy her retirement years. No grass was growing under her feet and she immediately began making connections with current expats, future expats, and many Facebook groups of people who were doing the exact same thing. I was amazed to see how thorough she was in her planning, and of course she would be well organized with many “lists” of things to do to prepare. One can only imagine how scary and exciting this must have been, to leave everything she had known for her whole life, leaving her children and grandchildren, leaving her friends, selling the home that she and Julie loved so much. But she did it!
Anyone who saw mom and Julie’s pictures in the Miami airport when they were leaving for Portugal surely got a good laugh - with 14 suitcases, 2 carry-on’s, 2 personal items, 2 cats, and one dog. But when I look at those photos, I am so proud of her. This was the moment of fruition, when all that they had worked so hard for was being realized. I must say that of all the things that I am most proud of my mom for doing, this tops the list.

For those of you who knew my mom, you knew she was a genuine person with a good heart. Her presence in my life has made me the person I am today. She makes me want to be the best version of myself. She was my biggest supporter for my entire life. And despite some of the disappointment I may have caused her in my younger years, I knew that she loved me unconditionally.

In my formative years, my mom taught me some of life’s most important lessons. Rarely, if ever, did she preach a specific message or compel me to act in a certain manner. Rather, my mom inspired and influenced me through her actions, the small things that make up the very essence of a good person, such as writing thank you notes, always making your bed, not saying bad words, being kind, always saying please and thank you, making the effort to stay in touch, and never saying the Lord’s name in vain.
I can’t even begin to summarize my mom’s life in a 5 minute speech, but I don’t have to. The people who knew my mom, the people she worked with, the students she taught, the friends she made, and the people who are here today, or the ones that are in Portugal, are all chapters in her amazing life. They are chapters that help to complete her book. And even though her story ended too soon, its pages are rich with content. Sometimes it’s not the length, but the quality of your story. Read less

My name is Jessica and I am, according to Carol, Carol’s favorite oldest daughter. This is one of the hardest, yet one of the most important speeches that I will ever have to give. It’s an honor to hold the responsibility of eulogizing my mother.

As the daughter of a librarian, I am here today to tell you a story. A story about the life of Carol Curran Sivard. This story starts in 1951 in Jacksonville, Florida. Carol was born to a middle class blue collar working family on October 1st. ... Read moreHer mother was raising 3 older sisters and a brother, while her father worked for National Airline as a mechanic. National Airline moved its location to Dade County so the Curran family packed their belongings and moved to Miami. Carol finished high school in Miami and continued on to attend Barry College where she met my dad, Frank. Dad was attending nearby Biscayne College at the time when they met at a bar while my mom was accompanying her roommate on a date. They dated for several months and later married.

My childhood is full of wonderful memories with my mom.

I remember as each summer came to an end, my sisters and I were carefully selecting our backpacks & Trapper Keepers for the upcoming school year, and my mom was also prepping for her upcoming school year, cataloging new books that she purchased through grant programs for which she applied, creating clever bulletin boards with sayings like “Reader Today, Leader Tomorrow”, and getting the media center organized for the new school year. During the time of her elementary school career, my sisters and I saw our mom practicing for performances and wearing book character costumes regularly. She was even pulled over by the police one morning on her way to school dressed as Raggedy Ann and she said to the officer, “You wouldn’t give Raggedy Ann a ticket, would you?” I believe he let her go with a warning.

My mom loved being a librarian and media specialist. She was always pushing the bar a little higher each year and anytime there was an opening at a new or better school, she was first in line to apply. Mom accepted the opportunity to open a brand new elementary school, Schwarzkopf Elementary. She was over the moon to be in charge of establishing this library from the beginning, getting to select all of the books that would fill the shelves, cataloging and organizing. She was able to take ownership in this brand new library. But the true testament to my mom’s character and her desire to educate children came when she left Schwarzkopf, a first class A rated school, to teach at Sulphur Springs Elementary, a considerably inferior school in the district. Her heart was driving her to do something more meaningful and impactful with underserved and less privileged children.

As I was thinking back on my childhood with my mom, I recalled my summers throughout my middle and high school years. My days were spent with my sisters and I trying to figure out the most efficient and fun way to enjoy our days at home alone while our parents were at work. Each morning we would wake up with To-Do Lists that mom left for each of us with various chores to be completed on a daily basis. We knew that we could lounge around all day long, watching TV and eating snacks, but by 2 or 3 o’clock, it was time to get serious, and we scrambled to complete our To-Do Lists in as little time as possible. It was critical to tell her when she got home that it took the better half of the day so she would not add more tasks to our lists and we hoped that she would feel sorry for us thinking that we were spending our summer days as child laborers. It did not work and mom’s lists continued to be a consistent part of my childhood.

In addition to the daily cleaning assignments on our lists, we had extra cleaning to do in the morning before the cleaning lady was to come to our house. It was a constant struggle arguing over why we needed to clean so much when she was paying someone to come and do it. She would explain that the cleaning lady can’t clean if all of our stuff is everywhere and much of what we considered cleaning was really only tidying up and putting away our things. During our summer trip to Portugal, on a Wednesday night, mom made an announcement to all of us, “Okay guys, Judeit is coming tomorrow morning, so please make sure you have picked up your rooms.” We got a chuckle about how something never change.

My mom always had a nickname, or endearing name for each of us kids. For Allison it was Miss A. For Lindsay is was PipperSnit. And for me, it has always been Big J. Well that all got pretty complicated when there was suddenly a new Big J in my mom’s life, Julie. The Big J mix-up was exacerbated when I realized that my mom was also mis-spelling my last name. Shortly after meeting Julie, my mom began inserting the letter “b” into my last name, Lumley. It all became very clear to me when I realized that Julie’s last name was Lumb, so naturally, I would now become Jessica Lumbley. I believe she even wrote checks payable to me this way.

I knew that Julie was a very important person in my mom’s life. After they met, I saw real happiness in my mom. I was older now, in my mid-twenties, and she and I were able to talk on a different level, not just as mother/daughter, but also as friends. She shared with me her new found happiness, and I watched my mom blossom into a brand new, better person. I could tell that she was genuinely happy and that made me happy. Julie quickly became a part of our family, and she was the reason for this new amazing woman.

The holidays were always very special to my mom. Every year, she and Julie would host Christmas Eve at their house. The house would be decorated so beautifully. Christmas lights outside, impeccable decorations throughout the house, and not a single pick or ornament out of place on the tree. When we arrived, she could be seen in her kitchen window working on dinner, and as soon as she saw us, she would eagerly wave from the kitchen window and come running to her side door to greet us all with big hugs. Mom and Julie would take the grandchildren to the 4:00 church service, then rush home to make our very traditional Christmas Eve dinner of Cajun Shrimp Stroganoff and Beef Burgundy. Without fail and for as long as I can remember, this is what we always had for Christmas Eve dinner. Mom would make her famous salad that was always a hit, and of course, no meal is complete without Hawaiian rolls. Before dinner, we would all bundle up and take a walk around Lake Roberta with all of the other families and residents of Hampton Terrace to see all of the Christmas lights and luminaries. We stopped all along the way to chat with neighbors - many of you are here today. Dinner would be served once we got back home, and the kids were always chomping at the bit to finish up quickly so we could open presents. And everytime we would leave at the end of the night, it was more hugs and kisses, and exchanging I love you’s. And as we back the car down her driveway to leave, mom was always waving. Waving for us to get back onto her driveway and yelling, “Don’t run over my sprinkler heads!”

Mom retired from the Hillsborough County School District in 2019, and shortly thereafter was forced into lockdown with the rest of the world due to COVID 19. I imagine that this was not how she envisioned her retirement starting off, but nonetheless she used this as an opportunity to begin planning something big. I remember her asking me one day, in all seriousness, “What would you think if I told you that Julie and I were going to move to Portugal?” I looked at her and matter of factly said, “I hope you do!” She appeared mildly perplexed and asked if I was kidding and I told her no way! I told her how awesome it would be and that I couldn’t imagine a better way to enjoy her retirement years. No grass was growing under her feet and she immediately began making connections with current expats, future expats, and many Facebook groups of people who were doing the exact same thing. I was amazed to see how thorough she was in her planning, and of course she would be well organized with many “lists” of things to do to prepare. One can only imagine how scary and exciting this must have been, to leave everything she had known for her whole life, leaving her children and grandchildren, leaving her friends, selling the home that she and Julie loved so much. But she did it!
Anyone who saw mom and Julie’s pictures in the Miami airport when they were leaving for Portugal surely got a good laugh - with 14 suitcases, 2 carry-on’s, 2 personal items, 2 cats, and one dog. But when I look at those photos, I am so proud of her. This was the moment of fruition, when all that they had worked so hard for was being realized. I must say that of all the things that I am most proud of my mom for doing, this tops the list.

For those of you who knew my mom, you knew she was a genuine person with a good heart. Her presence in my life has made me the person I am today. She makes me want to be the best version of myself. She was my biggest supporter for my entire life. And despite some of the disappointment I may have caused her in my younger years, I knew that she loved me unconditionally.

In my formative years, my mom taught me some of life’s most important lessons. Rarely, if ever, did she preach a specific message or compel me to act in a certain manner. Rather, my mom inspired and influenced me through her actions, the small things that make up the very essence of a good person, such as writing thank you notes, always making your bed, not saying bad words, being kind, always saying please and thank you, making the effort to stay in touch, and never saying the Lord’s name in vain.
I can’t even begin to summarize my mom’s life in a 5 minute speech, but I don’t have to. The people who knew my mom, the people she worked with, the students she taught, the friends she made, and the people who are here today, or the ones that are in Portugal, are all chapters in her amazing life. They are chapters that help to complete her book. And even though her story ended too soon, its pages are rich with content. Sometimes it’s not the length, but the quality of your story. Read less