She was born in New York, the first child of a French salesman and a Southern belle.
Over the next 101 years, she served as a U.S. Women’s Army Corps draftsman during World War II, married an artist, buried four babies, built a career in nursing and outlived almost everyone she ever knew.
I never met Sgt. Edgena Diot Jones, but I’m thankful to have a hand in laying her to rest.
Edgena died Friday at the Gino J. Merli Veterans Center, 35 days before her 102nd birthday. She was the oldest living veteran at the facility, which was built on the ashes of Scranton State General Hospital, where Edgena cared for patients as an LPN until it closed.
She will be buried with full military honors Friday.
The honor guard will likely outnumber family and friends. A consequence of celebrating 101 birthdays is that almost no one is still at the party when God blows out your candles.
Stories as good as Edgena’s only come around every century or so. I joined it Monday when a colleague pointed to a Facebook post by Veterans Promise NEPA, a Dickson City-based nonprofit that advocates for veterans who struggle with PTSD or need help readjusting to society. Its core mission is suicide prevention. The group put out a call for pallbearers.
By the time I spoke with spokeswoman Carol Desmarteau, Veterans Promise had lined up three pallbearers, but still hadn’t found a fourth. I volunteered, which Edgena’s niece and caregiver, Brenda Lee-Marmo, found funny when we met for coffee Tuesday morning.
Edgena was a staunch Republican who listened to Rush Limbaugh daily and adored President Donald Trump. If she knew some ink-stained liberal was carrying her casket, “she would die,” Brenda said with a warm giggle.
“She was serious about her politics,” Brenda said. “So serious I put it in the obituary.”
Once, Brenda made a crack about President George W. Bush, and Edgena ghosted her.
“She wouldn’t talk to me for a month,” Brenda said. “She told me, ‘Don’t ever talk that way about our president!’”
Edgena drew a hard line on politics, but she had a soft spot for any soul in need, Brenda said. Her aunt once witnessed an emaciated, terrified mutt shivering by the side of a road. She scooped the poor thing up, named him “Teddy” and nursed him back to health.
“Teddy was nasty,” Brenda said with a laugh. If he was grateful for being rescued, the dog didn’t let on.
“She kept him, anyway,” Brenda said.
Brenda, 58, of Old Forge, keeps the mementos that tell her beloved aunt’s story, which had its setting switched to Scranton when her father, Roger Diot, moved back to his native France and her mother, Emily Jenkins O’Donnell, moved Edgena and her four siblings here instead of returning to her roots in Savannah, Georgia.
There are photos of a young Pvt. Diot in Germany and France, where she helped make the history her peers saw only in newsreels and the press. The paperwork for her honorable discharge as a sergeant in June 1946 shares space with a letter of thanks from President Harry Truman and an army booklet documenting her required vaccinations to serve overseas.
Why did the smart, beautiful young daughter of a Southern belle volunteer for the army in wartime?
“She wanted to serve her country and see the world,” Brenda said. And when she came home, she wanted a career and a family.
Edgena married Meredith Jones, a Navy veteran and professional artist, in St. Peter’s Cathedral on May 15, 1951. The couple had four children, three stillborn and a daughter, Mary, who died shortly after birth. Despite these devastating losses, Edgena kept her faith and zest for life. In 1967, she enrolled in the first class of the Practical Nursing Program at Scranton State General Hospital. It was the beginning of a long career of service.
Meredith died in 2000, and Brenda eventually convinced her aunt to move to Scranton Manor Personal Care Center. At 94, Edgena learned to dance there, and didn’t stop until she laid down to die.
“She loved to dance,” Brenda said. “I called her ‘Gena Ballerina.’”
Brenda explained that although he was an artist, Meredith was an “eccentric” Protestant who didn’t believe women should dance, drink or smoke. When she was out of his sight, Edgena did all three.
She credited blackberry brandy, red wine and dark chocolate for her longevity. Brenda made sure she kept her aunt stocked up, because Edgena wasn’t afraid to go get her own.
While a resident at Scranton Manor, Edgena often went for walks around the Hill Section.
“She would get on a bus and ride up to the state store and buy a little bottle and put it in her purse,” Brenda said. “I told her, ‘You can’t just go walking around that neighborhood. It’s not safe for someone your age.’”
Edgena said if anyone tried to harm her, “I’ll hit them with my cane.”
Canes are no match for uneven sidewalks, so Brenda moved her aunt into the Merli Center. She thrived there among other veterans, Brenda said. They were planning Edgena’s 102nd birthday party when she died.
“I’m sure she went straight to heaven and she’s celebrating with her angel babies and all the other people she missed all these years,” Brenda said, maybe forgetting that Teddy might be there, too, snarling at guests.
“What an amazing life. What an amazing journey. I’m just so blessed to be a part of it.”
So am I. Tomorrow, I will sit down to Thanksgiving dinner with my in-laws. We’ll say grace, stuff ourselves with turkey and trimmings and talk about anything but politics.
On Friday, I will help write the end of Edgena’s earthly story with the grace, dignity and respect it deserves. I never met her, but thanks to Brenda, I feel like I know her. Now, you do, too.
CHRIS KELLY, the Times-Tribune columnist, wishes you and yours a happy, safe Thanksgiving. Contact the writer: kellysworld@timesshamrock.com, @cjkink on Twitter. Read his award-winning blog at timestribuneblogs.com/kelly.