Eulogy for Janet Marie Pickard, nee Webb

Before we go in into Mom's story, it is important to point to the most crucial fact about Mom. Mom was a born-again Christian who came to Christ at an early age in the Capitol Hill Church of God. It is this blessed hope that Mom spoke about all her life and the hope she taught to her children. As Peter will tell, Mom was ready to go be with the Lord and now she is with Him in eternal bliss.
Amen!!

Janet Marie Webb began her earthly pilgrimage May 16, 1935, in Norman Oklahoma. Her father Robert Paul Webb was a printer, and her mother Aliene Webb stayed at home and raised her three older brothers, Robert, Tom and Jim and Janet who was the baby of the family.

My grandma Webb liked to give her children nicknames and my mother's was Sugar Lamb Chops. Which was shortened to Shuggie and then further shortened to Shug. Her brothers, mother and father called her Shug or Shuggie all her life.

Despite the sweet nickname, Janet Marie was an energetic and feisty child and growing up with three older brothers she was never a pushover. She resembled her father who had been a bantamweight golden gloves boxer. Grandpa Webb could be bit gruff and certainly was tough and Mom was tough as well.

But more characteristic than her toughness, was her fearlessness, sense of adventure and sense of humor. If I were to characterize Mom in one word it would be intrepid.

She graduated from Oklahoma City's Capitol Hill High School in 1953 and through her youth group at church met a young engineer who had just graduated from Oklahoma University. His name was Joe Pickard. After graduation from OU, Joe got a job with Aramco Oil Company and moved to Saudi Arabia.

Joe sent Janet a telegram proposing marriage. No bended knee just a wire from a foreign country. But true to form Mom accepted his proposal via telegram and looked forward to her first adventure overseas.

They honeymooned in Acapulco Mexico and then flew to Dhahran Saudi Arabia.

Mom took to expat life immediately.

Another characteristic of Mom was her open and outgoing personality. She was quick to make friends wherever she lived and continued to correspond with her friends in Saudi long after the sojourn in Arabia was over.

Mom and Dad learned a smidgeon of Arabic and traveled the Middle East Lebanon, Israel, Jordan, Syria and then...

In 1955 her first son Garth was born in the Aramco camp. She was extremely proud of her first child and packed a baby book full of mementos; that is, until her second son Peter was born two years later in 1958 also in the Aramco camp hospital. She was equally proud of the new little guy.

Shortly thereafter, our parents moved back to the US. Dad was from East Texas and thought it natural to take a job in Longview Texas. Texas was not a good fit for an Okie like Mom. Within a year, Dad got a job in Tulsa, Oklahoma and Mom was back in her native land. Though she grew up in Oklahoma City, she loved living in Tulsa.

Tulsa proved to be the place our parents always moved back to after their various stints of living overseas. It became home base for us kids and it is where her third child Deborah was born in May 1960.

Mom was delighted with her daughter. She had platinum blond hair and sapphire blue eyes. However, Mom was a bit perplexed with her new child as she was just as fiery, feisty and willful as Mom had been as a little girl.

Deborah turned out fine, as we all know, but Mom, shall we say, had to apply a lot of "discipline" to tame her little fireball.

Mom and Dad became very active at Tulsa Baptist Temple and to this day some of her dearest friends were and are members of that church.

Dad went through a few jobs in Tulsa but in 1962 he announced we were moving to Tripoli Libya. Mom saw it as another overseas adventure, and it was.

After a few weeks living in an apartment in Tripoli, my brother Peter, at four years old, started a fire in the garbage bins under the apartment building. Though she was sick with the flu, Mom put it out and; and like many such things, looked back on it as just another good story to tell and laugh about.

Mom inherited her sense of humor from her father, and it was one of the characteristics that Mom used to help us all get through hard times.

It was during these first few months in Libya that Mom accidentally hit a Libyan riding his bicycle. The guy was blind in one eye and didn't see Mom as he crossed the street in front of the light. She was just starting to roll so it was not much of an incident, but when the Libyan realized she was an American, he began to roll on the ground and contort himself as if in agony.

The police showed up and I don't know how Mom managed to communicate with her very limited Arabic, but he let her go, gave her a ticket and a summons to appear in court.

The oil company lawyer told Mom not to worry and that he would accompany her to the Libyan courtroom, interpret the proceedings and give her side of the story. Mom's case was not the first up and Mom recounted that most of the cases before her were of women accusing their husbands of beating them. Mom was not amused by the sheepish husbands declaring they never laid a hand on their wives. She did notice that the judge also was not very sympathetic to the men.

Mom often recounted this episode with some relish imitating the timbre and accent of the bailiff to full effect as he announced her case, shouting "Jeeent Peekard".

The bicyclist was called and explained how Mom, doing at least 100 kph had crushed him and nearly killed him. Mom's lawyer gave her side of the story. The judge apparently was not convinced that there had been much harm done. She was required to pay for his treatment at the clinic and to repair his bicycle.

After the initial worry and fretting, it became just another comic adventure for Mom.

We moved from the apartment to a villa in Georgenpopoli, an expat enclave on the western edge of Tripoli. Though many Americans lived there, it was an international community, with people from all over the world who mostly worked in the oil fields of Libya.

It was in Georgenpopoli that Mom met one of her closest and dearest lifelong friends, Inge Sturgeon. Inge, her husband Gene and their two sons, John and Alan were one of our next-door neighbors in the wall connected villas that were typical homes for families in Tripoli.

Gene Sturgeon was a veteran of WWII and met Inge during his time in Germany. Inge was German and as gregarious and outgoing as Mom, and they became fast friends. The way our villas were connected, Inge's kitchen window opened onto our backyard and Mom would often be at her window sharing coffee and Tripoli news.

John and Alan Sturgeon though a bit older than Peter, Deb and I, became a little band of desert kids, roaming and playing on the sandy streets of Tripoli. Very few streets in Tripoli were paved in those days and deep piles of sand often accumulated on the corner of the street where we lived. Occasionally, Mom would come around the corner in her MG sedan and bog down in the sand. Our little crew were quick to get the shovels and dig her out.

Mom and Inge took us to the beach, to the souk, to visit the Roman ruins outside Tripoli and we eventually traveled to Inge's native Germany on our way back from Libya one summer vacation.

Inge and Mom unwisely left the five of us at the hotel in Frankfurt to do a bit of shopping. When they returned they were confronted by the hotel manager who demanded that the children quit riding the elevators up and down. We had been having a fine time playing elevator tag, but at the expense of the other guests. Mom and Inge scolded us but again another anecdote in Mom's repertoire.

By the way John Sturgeon is here with us today. He is our big brother.

It was just before Christmas 1965 that our lives took a tragic turn. Inge her best friend was found unconscious on her driveway by her sons. It is still not clear how she fell but it was serious. Inge lost her hearing. She was sent back to the US with John and Alan for treatment. She never recovered her hearing and Inge and John and Alan never returned to Libya. Mom and Peter and Deb and I grieved at the hole they left in our lives in Libya.

When school was out Mom would take us back to the US and we spent our summers staying at my grandma and grandpa Webb's house in Oklahoma City.

Mom always planned a stopover in Europe enroute from the US to Tripoli on the return trip. Mom took delight in seeing the sights, foreign foods (especially baked bread and pastries). Mom savored the smell of sugary brioche and hot coffee in a European train station in the early morning and with that aroma she infected me and my brother Peter with the travel bug.

Mom loved to travel and even when not living overseas she was always looking for a chance to travel abroad. By my count Mom visited and/or lived in 24 different countries. At one point during our five years in Libya, Mom arranged for her mother, our Grandma Webb, to meet us in Europe for a week and then come to Libya.

During this trip my brother Peter in second grade at the time, caused Mom an uncharacteristic panic. We were to board a train in Florence to go to Rome. Once all of us were assembled on the platform, Peter came up missing. Mom was frantic and she was searching up and down outside the train, when she happened to look up saw Peter already on the train and smiling down at her from a window. Mom got rather testy and asked what in the world he was thinking. Peter was nonchalant and told her he must have missed us somewhere, but he was sure if he got on the train we would all meet in Rome. After the panic subsided, it became another of Mom's fond travel stories.

My father started a church in Tripoli, "The Tripoli Bible Church". Mom played piano and dad preached the sermon. The congregation was at most 50 or 60, composed of oil field workers and air force personnel stationed at Wheelus Air Force Base just east of Tripoli.

In 1967 our parents decided that instead of going back to the US for summer vacation, we would take a trip to visit Egypt and the sites of the seven churches named in the Revelation, now in modern day Turkey. We never took that trip.

After school let out in 1967, Mom had arranged for us to pick up one of her friends at Wheelus Air Force base and go to the beach for a picnic.

We picked up Mom's friend and proceeded down the coast road toward downtown Tripoli. The way home was straight through downtown by the King's Palace and the American Embassy. As Mom started down the road she saw a huge mob around the American Embassy. Savvy Mom, she immediately u-turned and took us a back way through the old city and onto the Gargaresh Road and home.

Dad was home from work shortly thereafter. The Arab Israeli Six Day War had broken out and all the Arab and Muslim capitals were in tumult.

Listening to the Armed Forces Radio Network, all American in Tripoli were advised to evacuate to Wheelus Air Force Base. My parents took Mom's friend back to Wheelus Air Base that afternoon.

That evening dad decided to treat us to dinner out (a huge rarity for us at that time). As he drove through Georgenpopoli it was eerily quiet. Like a ghost town. The little cafe Chicken on a Wheel, was closed. Most expats had already gone to Wheelus Air Force Base for protection.

Dad much like Mom was pretty fearless. He was convinced that this war was the sign that the rapture of the church was at hand. So instead of bugging out to the Air Force base he decided we would stay put and wait for the Lord's return.

Mom waited one day.

During which day she packed our bags and did what she could to get ready to leave. Including feeding our neighbor's German Shepard, Star. Another of Mom's characteristics, she was realistic and practical.


The next morning Mom told Dad. "Joe, if you want to stay here and wait for the rapture that's fine, but I am taking the kids, Star and going to the Air Force Base."

My dad was a practical fellow too and so we loaded the bags, dog and us kids in a VW Beetle and an MG Sedan and drove through the empty streets of Tripoli to the Air Force Base.

We were evacuated out a few days later. My dad went back briefly to pack up furniture and other items, but we never went back to Libya.

Our days in Libya seem almost idyllic in the sentimental rearview mirror, but Mom was only mildly sentimental, and she jumped into life in Oklahoma with alacrity.

Dad got a job in Tulsa and Mom found a new housing development near Bixby Oklahoma, then just a small town south of Tulsa. Dad gave her a free hand to build a custom home on a 3/4 acre lot. Mom really loved this house.

While Libya had been an idyllic adventure, Bixby was the fulfillment of a traditional Oklahoma girl's dream come true. Kids off to school, nice home, lots of friends to have coffee with. Mom was very happy in Bixby.

Then in 1972, Mom shocked Peter, Deb and me. At 36, Mom announced she was going to have her fourth child. I was 16. Peter was 14. Deborah was 12. It was astonishing and more than a bit discombobulating for three adolescents.

Elizabeth was born February 1972. Mom's little surprise. Now, it is not very novel for a 36-year-old woman to have a child, but in 1972, for a woman of her age to have a child was a bit unique.

Mom delighted in her pregnancy and her beautiful baby girl. Elizabeth became not just our little sister but almost like our child.


Liz was born in February and in March dad came home and said he had taken a job in Iran. Mom was interested and tempted by the idea of a new expat experience, but leaving her beautiful Bixby home and taking an infant to a less well-developed country gave her pause.

Nevertheless, July 1972, after packing up and selling the house in Bixby we took our leave for Ahvaz, Iran. Unfortunately, Ahvaz was no Tripoli. Not even close. Instead of the Mediterranean Sea we had the muddy Khorramshahr River. Instead of the delightful Italian influences of Tripoli with pastries and cappuccinos there was a company store with crummy western products.

There was no expatriate community in Ahvaz and we often felt isolated. Mom never let it get her down. She got us a ping pong table. She got some UNO cards, and we played into the wee hours.

Though Mom was friendly with our Lebanese next-door neighbor, she was never able to find any close friends which Mom always yearned for and enjoyed.

It is Christmas time, and I am reminded that no matter where we were, in Libya, Bixby, Iran, Tulsa, Mom always baked up a storm at Christmas. The fun part of Christmas for us kids was Mom's baking. Dad loved the sweets as much as anyone. Mom did roll her eyes though when Dad put Louisiana Sauce on her Christmas fruit cookies. It was not because he didn't like the cookies, but he liked a little spice with the sweet. I understand dad, I like Louisiana Sauce too.

Mom had four children, six grandchildren, three great grandsons and soon to be one great granddaughter.

My wife Tammy and I have three sons, Adam, Josh and Andrew. Those boys loved their grandma and going to her house.

Adam, Mom's oldest grandson, took his then girlfriend Sarahi to meet Mom. Mom was the first person he told that they were planning to get married. Adam visited Mom a couple of more times and she got to meet her youngest great grandson (Adam's boy) Ezekiel. Adam and Sarahi are expecting Mom's first great granddaughter 18th December. Elena's middle name will be Marie like Mom's.

Josh remembers spending the night with grandma and watching a movie, she liked, "Sandlot". The movie set in the 1950's is about a nerdy kid, an underdog, learning to play baseball and fit in. Mom always rooted for the underdog.

Josh has two sons, Nathan and Aaron.

My youngest son Andrew remembers grandma making cookies and snacks and putting on old Superman cartoons from the 1950's when he visited her.

Mom was fiercely protective. My middle son Joshua and Jenifer his wife made a trip to Tulsa to see Mom and introduce her to her first great grandson Nathan.

Mom, Josh Jen, Tammy, Peter, Beth, Deb and Nathan went to eat lunch at a restaurant. The service was a bit slow and Nathan; being just a bit over two years-old, began to voice his impatience from his highchair. Mom called the waitress over and told her rather tartly, "My grandson is hungry and so am I." Mom was always a mom, including taking up for her great grandson.

Mom loved visiting Chris and Liz and her three grandchildren Brigette, Bret and Brianna in Frisco, Texas. When she was able, she would go an average of once a month. After dad got sick, that stopped, and she was never able to resume.

Liz's family remembers fondly that when she visited, she would always insist on taking them to dinner the first night of her arrival, usually going to a Mexican restaurant name Abuelos. She ALWAYS insisted on paying for the check.

Another distinguishing characteristic of Mom was that she was hard working. In one of her visits to see Liz and Chris she helped them move from one house to another, the new and old houses were about 2 miles apart. Mom stayed up way longer than the rest of them getting stuff organized.


She had worked so hard that when driving one last time back to their original house, she dozed off and ran off the road and woke up just in time to keep from driving into the bar ditch. Dad was very hard working, but I think Mom could sometimes go a little longer and further than Dad and certainly further than any of us kids, except for Deborah.

Mom would not go to bed unless the kitchen was spotless.

She loved reading to Liz's kids, but hated the cartoon SpongeBob SquarePants with a passion.

She loved people to visit her. Every phone call was met with the question, "When are you coming down next?"

She loved sunshine but not rainy days.

Mom got pulled over for speeding a number of times, but she never got a ticket.

On one of her trips to visit Liz and Chris in Texas, she got stopped in Atoka. There are almost always speed traps in Atoka. The officer asked her why she was going so fast. She just told the truth. She told him that she didn't realize she was going so fast because she was reciting the book of Philippians in her head as she was trying to memorize the whole thing.

He challenged her on that. She began to recite it for him and after a while he stopped her. He let her off with a warning probably because he was impressed that she was telling the truth!

Brigitte had dreams of mom coming in, to foil plots on her life. Mom was like a super ninja. That was how Liz's kids remember her - as a fighter.



This is what Peter has written:

My mother was fearless, optimistic, cheerful, energetic, a tireless worker, fiercely loyal, never met a stranger, tough as nails, tender-hearted, and would freely express her heart. And most importantly, I believe my mother was a Christian. My mother told us that when she was a little girl she used to tell lies. But God caused her to feel guilty about it. Realizing that she could not get rid of this guilt on her own, she turned to God for forgiveness. She confessed her sin to God and repented, believing that Christ's death on the cross was the payment in full for all her sins. And just as Christ rose from the grave, proving He was God, she believed she would live again with God after she died. Beth asked her what happened after she repented and she said, "I stopped lying!" I believe this change was not the cause of her hope in eternal life but evidence that God had truly given her a new heart. This new heart is the only one I ever saw.

Mom delighted in having gatherings of people at our house for food, fellowship and singing. A few years before Dad died, Mom started a regular Tuesday lunch at her house for us. I think one of her greatest joys in life was doing things to make others happy. She faithfully attended church all her life and truly enjoyed the preaching, singing and fellowship. She daily spent time in prayer and reading the Bible. She was faithful to give money regularly to her church and to other compassionate organizations such as groups that helped disabled veterans.

Two months after Dad passed away in 2015, Mom had to have emergency surgery. When she got out of the hospital, Deborah noticed subtle signs that Mom was having memory trouble. Thus began her very slow decline. Mentally at first and then later physically. A few months later she went to visit her lifelong friend Jean, who she had known since she was 12. After she came back, she said she would never do that again because it was confusing. By this time, we all had recognized there was an issue. Although she accepted it as God's will for her, she had to really fight the discouragement of not being able to drive, which came in December of 2019. She was so outgoing and energetic, I think not driving was a greater blow than the physical limitations that came later. In spite of this great discouragement, I remember Mom saying at one point, "God has given me such a wonderful life, if these last years are hard, it's ok. So many people have it so much worse."

Mom was a constant fountain of thankfulness to God and others. Beth and Mom enjoyed going on drives together. Once, when driving through Memorial Park Cemetery, where she will be buried later today, she looked at all the flowers on the graves and exclaimed, "How good of God to let us enjoy the flowers that other people have brought here!" In the last years of her life, it became difficult for her to talk. Frequently we could tell she was trying to talk but it came out unintelligibly. It amazed me that when she did say something we could understand, it was usually words to comfort others or expressions of thankfulness.

Her most frequently used words during these final years were, "Thank you", or "that is Won-der-ful!" or "Mar-vel-ous!". I was not a very good caregiver and sometimes I was a little rough with her. During this period, I was moving her to the wheelchair and I landed her a little hard in the chair. I told her I was really sorry. Immediately, she said, "You are doing just fine!" What little came out of her at this stage was her trying to comfort me! I know I could be wrong, but I believe that when you get old and start to have dementia, who you really are inside, tends to come out in a more unfiltered way. I believe that this thankful and compassionate attitude was a manifestation of her true faith in Christ. What came out of her unfiltered self was mostly sweetness. I never anticipated the blessing God had in store for me as I helped care for her in these last years. Taking care of her reminded me of the patience she always had with my failures. Seeing her sweet attitude reminded me of how her life was spent in an effort to bring happiness to others. What a joy it was to grow even more in my appreciation for what a wonderful lady my mother was. This heart of hers would not have been there if not for God's transforming power. But I also want to give some credit to the Webb blood that flowed in her veins. Experiencing Mom in these last years reminded me of what a loving tribe the Webb clan is. One of my most important goals today is to honor the Webb family that helped shape her.

Another wonderful, unexpected blessing from God to me over these last few years has been growing closer to my sweet sister, Deborah. I helped care for my Mom but Deborah was the one really carrying the load. Many decisions were made along the way. I am so thankful to God that we never argued about anything. We just always seemed to be of the same mind. Like we were related or something. The memory of these last few days with Deborah and Mom will be some of the most precious to me the rest of my life.

As I draw to a close, I want you all to know what a blessing it was to us that Mom was able to grow old and die in the same house she lived in for the last 50 years. This would not have been possible without the support of some wonderful caregivers:
Charla Wise

Glenda Carlson

Aimee Bevins

Cooweesta Prater

Jatina Coburn

Not only did these ladies make it possible for my mother to stay in her home but these ladies loved my mother. You are all very precious to Deborah and Beth and me. Thank you SO SO much!

Visitation will be 6PM - 8PM, Monday, December 9, 2024 at Moore's Southlawn, 9350 East 51st Street, Tulsa, Oklahoma. Funeral Service will be 11AM, Tuesday, December 10, 2024 at Moore's Southlawn Chapel. Moore Southlawn 918-663-2233