Helen Kreller
Helen Kreller

Obituary of Helen Kreller

Helen Kreller, 94, or Grandma Helen, as she was best known, lived a simple, long and happy life. She loved best her husband, Fred, her son, Jim, her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She was born Helen Lola Smith on January 17, 1919, a poor "country kid" in the bedroom of the family farmhouse along with her twin brother, Herbert L. Smith. Her parents, Arthur and Lula Mae (Johnson) Smith were hardworking, provident and loving. The Smith farm was home to nearly more family members than animals. Helen and her siblings Dorothy, Rosalie, Mildred, Clyde and Wayne shared the "sleeping porch" with uncles, aunties and grandparents. On Sundays, chairs at the dining table would multiply. "We never knew we were poor," Helen would say. "We always had enough to eat." Herbert died in 1934, a sophomore, from a burst appendix. Herbert's loss colored the rest of Helen's life. She had perfect grades and attendance at Cole School, and saved all of her report cards to prove it. She went on to graduate from Boise High School in 1937. Helen went to work in a Boise doctor's office, in part to help a sister pay for beauty school. Somewhere about 1940, at a dance Helen met the love of her life, a hardworking Boise native, and a bit of a rascal who worked with her father the grocery wholesale. Fred Kreller had taken quite a shine to Helen, who had once feared she'd be the town's Old Maid (at the age of 21). "He drinks too much beer," was all Arthur Smith (a teetotaler) pronounced when Helen inquired about her suitor. Apparently, that wasn't enough to dissuade her of Fred's more amiable qualities. They were married in a simple civil ceremony in Boise, in 1941. And it took, but good. They spent the next 63 years together until Fred's death in 2004. The couple moved to Los Angeles and to Pendleton, Ore. and to rural western towns with Fred's stint in the military and his career in Fish and Game. Helen loved children and had longed for a herd of her own. In 1943, Fred and Helen welcomed their only child, James Arthur to the world. Helen was accused of spoiling "Little Jimmy." But she didn't care. She was later accused of spoiling her grandchildren. Again, she didn't give a hoot. And if there was a neighborhood child who needed looking after, well, Helen was the first to volunteer. Through life and marriage Helen learned so many ways to show her love. She pronounced it. She hugged. She kissed. She cooked. Oh, Lord, how she cooked. Her Swiss steak could make you cry. Her macaroni and cheese induced a blissful coma. But the whole family, and many a friend, looked forward all year to turkey dinner, mashed potatoes, home-baked rolls, freezer jam, gravy and cream cherry pie. If you stayed the night, and we all did, you got whatever you wanted for breakfast; waffles, poached eggs, bacon. If you didn't want something to eat, it was probably a good idea to leave the house before she asked. Seconds were mandatory and thirds considered a compliment. Helen's cookie jar was always full of some delicious treat. The freezer was stocked with a year's supply of chocolate chips and walnuts. After a cookie, of course, you had to have something a little salty to get rid of the sweet. Helen maintained a spotless home. Beds were re-made by 9:30 a.m. Laundry done each Monday. Bread baked on Tuesday. Dinner on the table by 5 o'clock sharp. Helen's kindness — and cooking — and Fred's penchant for laughter and ribald jokes, meant a house full of friends and family, along with wickedly competitive rounds of Gin Rummy and seven card Pinochle. No one ever had a bad word to say about Helen. Helen never had a bad word to say about anyone else. Thrift was important to Helen. She would wear clothes until they were threadbare. They were good enough for everyday, she'd say. If a shirt became too ratty to wear, it would get a second life as a dusting cloth or a cleaning rag. Nothing went to waste. In the days before she died, Helen was washing dishes in the old farmhouse sink, cooking with Momma and waiting for her father to come home so she could ride to town in the "good car." She died from natural causes, surrounded by her family, on Sept. 29. Her death was as peaceful as the life she led. Her husband Fred Kreller, her brothers Wayne Newton, Clyde Smith and Herbert Smith and her sisters Dorothy Greenfield and Mildred Adams, preceded her in death. Her sister Rosalie Black of Buhl, ID, her son, James A. Kreller of Boise, her grandchildren, numerous great grandchildren and many nieces and nephews survive her. Helen never liked a fuss, so a simple graveside service is planned at 2 p.m. Thursday, Oct. 3 at the Morris Hill Cemetery in Boise. A viewing is also planned from 5 p.m. - 8 p.m. on Wednesday, Oct. 2, at the Summer's Funeral Chapel on Ustick Road in Boise.
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