Myrtle Legg

JEWETT - Coming home - or sometimes not - has always characterized the life of Myrtle Louise Legg who was given a celebratory and spiritual sendoff, this past Sunday, in the town of Jewett.

“Grandma,” as everyone affectionately referred to her, whether related or not, passed on December 4, two months shy of her 97th birthday.

Winter rain fell as a soulful sharing of memories and songs unfolded inside the East Jewett Fire Department where her grandson, Reverend Nathan Miles, welcomed a neighborly crowd.

“We aren’t here mourning Myrtle. We aren’t mourning grandma,” Reverend Reverend Miles said, holding his son in his arms, the boy resting his head gently on his father’s shoulder.

Telling how grandma’s eyes usually sparkled the Reverend continued, “that sparkle dimmed when grandpa went home to the Lord, and now she is going home.”

Grandma’s daughter, Carol Miles, told of how young Myrtle, born in 1927 in Watertown, grew up in the Cabbage Patch section of Haines Falls.

Myrtle was in her early teens when a younger brother suddenly didn’t come home, killed in a shooting accident when the gun, harmlessly leaned against a tree, fell over and fired.

During the Second World War, another brother was captured by the enemy and shuffled off to a prisoner-of-war camp, never making it home.

Myrtle listened to her own drum, quitting school when she was 16 because she wanted to and so she could to work in factories, doing her part for the war effort, sewing uniforms.

She was 19 when she said “I do” to Don Legg who was born with an eye defection, fully losing his sight not long after they were married in a construction mishap.

“He missed seeing my first steps,” daughter Carol said, noting he never had to look far to find Myrtle, adding, “they were inseparable.

“My mom then had two of us to take care of,” Carol said. “Some people said maybe she should seek a different way. She was forever faithful.”

Over the years, Myrtle either didn’t hear naysayers saying she ought not to join the East Jewett Fire Department or more likely paid them no mind.

She was one of four local women to break through the male bastion, driving fire trucks to the scene and hauling firehose if nobody else was there at the moment, ignoring that ladies weren’t allowed.

Myrtle and Don were well known for their gardens and their genuine natures and they are now inseparable anew.

One of the hymns sung during the Memorial Service might best describe the peaceful sentiments of Grandma, a devout Methodist.

“I have a loving Savior up in glory land. I don’t expect to stop until I with Him stand,” the congregation sang.

“He’s waiting now for me in heaven’s open door. And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.

“Just up in glory land we’ll live eternally. The saints on every hand are shouting victory.

“Their songs of sweetest praise drift back from heaven’s shore. And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”