Rebecca Ramona Schoenborn

Rebecca Ramona Schoenborn of Indianapolis, Indiana, passed into peace at her home on August 8^th, 2021. Rebecca surrendered to a 31 year-long battle with breast cancer. She was surrounded by her husband, children, and her hospice nurse-turned-friend, Jen.

Born on August 31^st, 1957 in Tulsa, Oklahoma; Rebecca was the oldest of five children born to Harvey Dean and Sarah Pauline Rotramel. It is suspected that she was brought into this world with a paintbrush in her dominant hand and fabric scissors in the other. As a youth, Rebecca spent her days helping care for her younger siblings and exploring ideas through arts and crafts. As a teenager she was a cheerleader for Southside High School in Fort Smith and an active 4H member. She won awards for her show chickens at the county and state fair. During those formative years Rebecca could be found meticulously decorating her room or sewing her own clothing. Her attention to detail developed into professional boutique quality craftmanship.

After High School, Rebecca earned an associate degree in accounting and an honorary master’s degree in etiquette and social graces. She was employed as a bookkeeper with Ozark Area Community Action Corporation in Springfield, Missouri from 1977 to 1988. She married Jon Richard Thomas Schoenborn of Scofield, Wisconsin, on November 19,1979, in Springfield. Throughout this time her creativity grew from filling canvas’ within her home to making her home a canvas. Rebecca devoted herself to decorating and then redecorating each room in each home she lived in. Her ability to transform an ordinary house into what could pass for a Better Homes and Gardens photo shoot seemed effortless and boundless. Her gift for placemaking reached to the accoutrements of daily routine and the culinary arts. Custom crafted holiday decorations and sensational themed birthday parties were a mainstay for her family. Her talents made Martha Stewart look like a prison cook. Limited only by her guarded nature, Rebecca may have been a peer to Julia Child or Elsie de Wolfe if time had made it so.

Following a series of moves with her husband and children that began in 1989 from Springfield to Oklahoma City and continued to Fort Smith before landing in Indianapolis, Rebecca served the fashion world as a women’s clothing department manager with Dillard’s Inc., a sales associate in the fine jewelry department for Saks Fifth Avenue, Inc., and the co-owner of multiple vintage collectibles and clothing shops with her husband. Her life was consumed with finding beauty and order with common items. Days before her passing, she could be heard patiently explaining to her grandchildren how to properly set a table for a multi-course meal from her bedroom upstairs to the dining room below.

Rebecca is survived by her loving husband Jon, daughter Rachel with children Marco and Olivia, Son Jacob, Daughter-in-law Miranda and their daughter Elena, Son Josh, his wife Nicole and their children Jonah, Thomas, Noah, Tim, Hannah, Cassandra, Josh, and Roy. She is preceded by her parents Sarah and Harvey as well as her siblings Marcus, Daniel, David, and Dee.

Rebecca’s strength, creativity, and compassion will be missed.

Calling will be held from 2pm until 4pm, Friday, August 13, 2021 at Flanner Buchanan-Broad Ripple (1305 Broad Ripple Avenue, Indianapolis, IN 46220).  Funeral services will immediately follow the calling hours on Friday, beginning at 4pm.  Graveside services will be held at 10am, Monday, August 16, 2021 at Hall Cemetery, (Crawford County), Natural Dam, AR.

To give honorary donations to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation, in memory of Rebecca, visit give.bcrf.org.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Eulogy for Rebecca’s Memorial Service – August 13, 2021

By Jon R. T. Schoenborn

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it.”

Good afternoon to all of you came to honor Rebecca’s life. You all came to know her in one way or another and, so, have some knowledge about some part of her. I would like to give you a quick history about Rebecca and me and then tell you a little about the Rebecca I knew.

We first met in 1977. She was a hostess at the Western Sizzlin’ Steak House that was just across the street from the apartment building that I lived at in Springfield, MO. I had taken a job transfer to Springfield from a small town in Illinois, outside of St. Louis. A young man that lived in my apartment building became my friend and also worked at Western Sizzlin’. One day he came home from work and began banging on my door. “What’s going on?” “There is a girl that’s working as hostess at my work that you have to meet! She’s a knock-out!” I’m thinking, sure Terry… not sure if I should take him up in this or not. He kept insisting that I at least go over there to eat and check her out. I decided “what the heck”. And the rest is history. I think it was her beautiful eyes and her cheerful smile that got to me. That is one decision in my life that I never regretted.

We were married about a year and a half later and we never looked back. We would have been married for 42 years in November. Over that time we raised three children and saw nine grandchildren come into this world. We lived at 9 addresses, in 4 cities in 4 states. She was by my side through thick and thin and I was by her side as well. We each made an effort to stick to our wedding vows even when times became tough. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, till death do us part. There were struggles and celebrations along the way but we survived.

So many people that I have talked with the past several weeks have told me how she was such a wonderful, caring person. She wasn’t just born that way. She became that wonderful person over time. She had to overcome many obstacles to get to be that person. She was a shy, introspective and guarded person that grew out of her shell to become this beautiful, refined lady. She had the basics all along, it was just a matter of bringing them to the surface. I can’t take credit for that happening, although I gave her plenty of praise and encouragement along the way. I recognized that her skills and talents were coming out and just had to let it happen. She had a certain sense of vulnerability about her that attracted me to her. I like to think that our happy relationship gave her a sense of security that allowed our love to grow. She began to feel more confident in herself and that was a good thing for both of us.

Our core values were aligned as we moved into our early years together. She had a rather strict religious upbringing as a child. At the time we met she had been attending a Lutheran church. I was brought up in the Lutheran church, so we had another match. We became church members wherever we lived and our children went to Sunday school and were confirmed in the Lutheran Church.

Over the course of time we discovered that we had more common likes than dislikes. We enjoyed antiquing and gardening. We traveled when we could and enjoyed visiting new cities or places.We both had an artistic streak in us. I expressed most of mine in my work as a Package Designer while Rebecca’s was making things beautiful. She was an artist in many ways. She painted, she sewed, she was an interior decorator in variety of ways, she crafted and made many of her own decorations. She loved to decorate for the holidays and throw theme birthday parties for the grandchildren. She was my personal stylist. She was an excellent cook and baker. She was driven to try new things. I don’t know where she got the energy sometimes to do all the things she did. I am so proud of her accomplishments. She also had a big heart, she loved her children, grandchildren and friends very much and would do just about anything for them. She became a refined lady.

We had a few scary times with her health over the years. She bounced back from two breast cancer occurrences, the first when she was just 33 years old. I was scared at that time that she was going to die and leave three children without a mother. But she was a fighter. She had biopsies, pneumonia, pancreatitis, gall bladder removal, several carpal tunnel surgeries to name a few. She kept fighting back. But it became more difficult watching her health decline over the past years. All of the doctor and emergency room visits and hospital stays. The CT scans, MRIs, PET scans, X-rays, Blood Draws, Chemo, Antibiotics, Pain Meds. She had a Breast Doctor, Gastroenterologist, Oncologist, Rheumatologist, Neurologist, Dermatologist, Infectious Disease Doctor, a Palliative Doctor and most recently a team of Hospice Care Nurses. She fought the fight with all she had.

Her plans to do more crafting or decorating were permanently put on hold. She didn’t get to finish writing her life story like she wanted to, but her story lives on in her children and grandchildren. For that I am pleased that a piece of her dream will live on. She became who she wanted to be and I am happy for her that she accomplished that. Her faith in God was strong to the end. The pastor who came to visit her in her last days spoke with her and left assured that she was ready be with Jesus. For us who were there when she left this world, we also know she is in a better place where there is no pain and suffering. God bless Rebecca and God bless all of you who are here today.

With that I say my final goodbye to my Rebecca, my lover, my companion, my friend.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Eulogy for Rebecca Schoenborn’s Memorial Service – August 13, 2021

By Rachel (Schoenborn) Miller

A few years ago, my boss and good friend passed away unexpectedly. Prior to his passing, I had begun helping him transcribe his life story, so I was asked by his family to speak at his funeral and share some of his story. I have always struggled with social anxiety, especially when it comes to talking in front of large groups of people. My mom, of course, already knew this about me. She was the one the school called when I threw up waiting to go on stage for the school wide spelling bee in third grade. And I loved spelling. So, when I called her to tell her that I was going to speak at Gary’s funeral, how nervous I was about it, and that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to do it, she responded by telling me she knew I could and offered to go, so that when I spoke I could look at her in the crowd and it would make me more comfortable. Sure enough, she showed up early to the funeral and was there to see it through that I got up and gave that eulogy. Today, she is still here.

My mother grew up in poverty. Her father had been dishonorably discharged from the Navy for selling marijuana to tuberculosis patients and had suffered a severe brain injury after falling two stories while washing windows. Her mother was an eccentric nurse who immersed herself and her family in the Pentecostal faith. She was the oldest of five kids. Being the oldest, she had to take on a lot of responsibility and develop tough skin early on in her life. She was the epitome of a southern Belle. She was modest. She was well-versed in proper etiquette and dress, and being a proper hostess. I think she knew everything there was to know about how to be a proper, well-rounded lady.

Most of you here already know that she pretty much succeeded at anything she put her heart to. She was creative, smart, driven, and passionate. She knew how to throw  phenomenal parties and how to decorate, which she reminded me not too long ago, was her favorite. She was intricately detail-oriented and loved organizing, pretty much anything. And then reorganizing again.

As a kid, I wasn’t detail-oriented. I struggled with maintaining focus. I was curious and mischievous. Forgetful and impulsive. There were many times that being my mother’s daughter was…challenging. It’s probably safe to say it was for all of us kids. She had high expectations of us and expected things to be done the right way, which was her way. She taught us how to make our beds with hospital corners, how to iron, how to properly set a table, how to do dishes, and even how to cook, run a vacuum, pump gas, and many other things, by the time we were 7. She taught us proper manner and etiquette. For me this even included a beauty pageant that my mother entered me in, right at the height of puberty the summer before freshman year. I did it, begrudgingly. I guarantee, now though, that I learned something from that experience and many others like that.

If something wasn’t done right, she would say, “if you don’t do it right, you’re going to do it over again until you get it right.” And that’s how it was, and also how it had to be.

She was raising children, who had what we have coined as “Rotramel Rage”, and it runs in our family line. It’s a mixture of stubbornness, pure willpower, lack of fear, impulsivity, and a strong defensive posture when threatened. She had to stay consistent, so that we would learn what she was teaching us. Thanks to that Rotramel rage, she had to utilize tough love more frequently than not.

My mother was a huge advocate for tough love. She was strict and super protective. She didn’t let us socialize as much as most kids, and when it came to doling out punishments, it could have been and was argued that her punishments were excessive. When you got got grounded in our house, you were grounded for a month. When I was in elementary school, my best friend invited me over to her house. I might have been grounded at the time, or maybe my friend got tired of my mom always saying no to us hanging out. Regardless, this particular day, after I had told her my mom had said no and we got off the phone, she calls back and demands to talk to my mom. So, I take the phone to my mom in the kitchen.

My friend was offering to pay offering to my parents utilities if I could just come over to her house for a couple hours. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. She was a brick house. Even now in my mid-30`s, it’s running joke between my friends and I that my mom truly scared my friends.

My mother was also kind and compassionate, and had a huge heart, and would try to help with anything she could. Sometimes that was hard to see because was guarded and didn’t prefer to talk things out. In a gray world, my mother had black and white expectations and rules. Her “talking things out” came in the form of one-liners. Like “do as I say, not as I do” anytime one of us challenged her. Or “learn from my mistakes” when we were in the process of making a bad choice. “Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free?” when she wanted to remind me of my worth.

At the time, I didn’t understand why she was instilling so much responsibility in us so early, or perhaps even why she was so guarded and had built so many walls around her own heart.

It wasn’t until I became an adult and started having children of my own, that I began to touch the tip of the iceberg on relating to and really understanding who my mother was and why she did as she did. Our stories are not the same, but they are similar. Over the last few years, as I worked through my own trauma, and then eventual quest to find out who her Grandpa Jack was, my mother shared her own stories with me. As my marriage was falling apart, she was always there to answer a phone call and let me cry or vent for however long I needed to, even in the middle of the night. She became my best friend, and finally I felt like I could talk to her about anything.

Then, when I had my own breast cancer scare and she knew I was going to an important by myself, she offered to drive two hours north to go with, even though she had been discharged from the hospital a day or two beforehand and was not in any good condition to drive. And she would have, if I’d let her.

But I didn’t because she taught me bravery, courage, and independence. Shortly after that, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. And wow, did that humble me. The magnitude of my mother’s strength was apparent more than ever before. My mother’s strength was the kind that motivated her to work harder when she was in pain, because she wanted to prove that nothing could slow her down.

Even at her worst moments, she had a way of persevering. She filled her life creating moments and things that we could remember her by, whether by throwing parties to celebrate our big moments, taking time for the small moments, supporting and loving us during the tough moments, or laughing with us through the happy moments.

Even though “Do as I say, not as I do” was possibly her most commonly used expression, she taught us best by her own actions and trying to be, herself, the best example she could be. She taught us by involving us in everything she did, as early as she could.

She showed us it was OK to be ourselves and imperfect, by embracing her imperfections.

She showed us how to be strong by her consistent perseverance.

She showed us how to be forgiving by loving us unconditionally.

She showed us how to stand up for ourselves by bringing out her Rotramel rage.

She taught us how to show up for people by showing up for us.

She taught us responsibility by being responsible.

She taught us honesty by being blunt and honest

She taught us integrity by never being afraid to call us out when she knew we were up to something.

She taught us work ethic by her own commitment and follow through

She taught us to always seek the knowledge or experience we were after by offering her words “where there’s a will, there’s a way.

She taught us how to dream by pursuing and sharing her own dreams.

She taught us how to use our own imaginations and think outside the box by pursuing her passions.

She taught us how to be brave and courageous by forcing us out of our comfort zone.

She taught us how to be proud without arrogance, by lifting us up and humbling us.

She taught us selflessness and how to have a heart for service, by doing for others before she did for herself…

And literally the list could go on forever of all the things she taught us.

Maybe it’s because in some way, she knew life would be cut short, or maybe it was just the way she was, but I understand now, she was teaching us how to survive without her.

One of the last pieces of advice that she gave me, less than a month ago, while I was helping her use the restroom in the middle of the night, was this:

“Sweetie, if I could tell you one thing it would be… to be whatever you want to be. Whatever makes you happy, go and be it. If you wanna be an airline pilot, be it. That’s what would make me happy.”

Above all else, every lesson she tried to teach, she really just wanted us to be confident in ourselves and do what makes us happy.

So, family, let’s make momma proud!

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Rachel’s 7 year old daughter, Olivia