hodgearts

Mom lived a long and rich life, filled with strength, curiosity, and a quiet determination. She was born in the Adirondack Mountains, grew up in Niagara Falls, and spent over 40 years as an educator, committed to giving children a strong start in life. She loved teaching, but even more, she loved learning—and she carried that spirit into nearly every chapter of her life. In her later years, understandably, that curiosity gave way to a quieter presence, but the depth of her intellect and love of knowledge remained part of who she was.

She witnessed more than a century of extraordinary change—socially, culturally, and technologically. Born in 1923, she saw the Great Depression as a child, came of age during World War II, and lived through the civil rights movement and the feminist movement. She saw televisions become common in every household, then witnessed the first televised war in Vietnam, and later the rise of the digital age. She watched computers shrink from room-sized machines to phones in our pockets, and saw women take on leadership roles across every part of society.

One moment I remember vividly was July 20, 1969—the night Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. We were in Geneva, Switzerland, on a family trip, and we all stayed up into the early hours of the morning, gathered around a small black-and-white television in the hotel lobby to watch the landing. It was quiet, surreal, and unforgettable. That moment, and so many others, made up a backdrop to the life she lived—a life deeply connected to the world around her.

She was also ahead of her time in many ways. At a time when only about 10% of American women had a college degree—compared to around 50% today—she not only earned her undergraduate degree but also completed a master's. Quietly, steadily, she broke ground without ever calling it that. These were quiet but powerful milestones, reflecting her determination, independence, and deep belief in the value of learning.

Travel was one of her greatest joys. After college, in 1948, she and two of her girlfriends set off on a cross-country road trip from Niagara Falls to Los Angeles—an adventurous journey for three young women of the time. They each bought a tire for Mary’s old Plymouth and headed west. Along the way, they visited the Grand Canyon, swam in the buoyant waters of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, passed through Las Vegas, took in the stunning blue of Lake Tahoe, and made their way to Los Angeles. They crossed into Tijuana, visited Catalina Island, and traveled up the coast to Daly City—coincidentally the same town where she would later spend her final years. From there, they went on to San Francisco, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, and dined at a restaurant overlooking the city. Their return route took them through Wyoming, the Dakotas, and the Black Hills before finally making it home. That road trip was just the beginning. Travel remained a central joy in her life—an expression of her independence and curiosity. She even went on to travel with friends as far away as Australia.

Early on, we took summer road trips across the country, and later, a family adventure in Europe. Our first stop was Rome, then we made our way north to Milan and eventually to Genoa, where we were to board a small cruise ship, the Anna C, for a journey through the Mediterranean. Somewhere between Milan and Genoa, we had to change trains. As I was handing our luggage out the window to my dad, the train suddenly started moving. My mother and I were still on board, watching as my father stood on the platform, looking back at us. We looked at each other—no panic, no words—but her calm was intact. She simply said, "He’ll catch up." And of course, she was right. When we arrived in Genoa, there he was, waiting for us at the station. That moment said so much about her: composed, intuitive, and quietly confident even when plans went sideways.

She also loved to cook and entertain. In their early years together, she and my father would host dinners and parties for friends and family, often spending the entire day preparing. She especially loved to bake—her dinner rolls and pizza dough were legendary, and around the holidays she delighted in making pies, cakes, and cookies for loved ones. The kitchen was one of the places where she expressed her generosity, warmth, and joy.

After my father passed away in 1992, Mom found ways to keep moving forward. She was deeply saddened to remain in the family home—every room, every turn reminded her of my dad. They had spent over 40 years there together. After about a year, I suggested she consider a change. I owned a lot on Cape Cod, a place she loved from her college summers and our family vacations. The idea of building a new home there gave her something to look forward to. At 70 years old, when I asked if she’d like to do it, she said, "Let’s do it." That decision marked the beginning of a new chapter, and she embraced it with the same quiet bravery—curious, determined, and fiercely independent.

As she approached 80, the Cape Cod winters began to take their toll, and she sought out a milder climate and the comfort of being near family in California. She moved to Half Moon Bay, where she celebrated her 80th birthday and enjoyed the coastal landscape, time with loved ones, and the opportunity to build a new life.

She especially appreciated being near the ocean, spending time in her small garden, and making new friends in the community. Knitting, which she had long enjoyed, became even more central to her daily life. Mostly self-taught, she created beautiful sweaters for family and friends, often featuring complex, intricate patterns. It was a craft she approached with focus and joy—an expression of care, creativity, and comfort. Her beloved pizza-making ritual continued well into her mid-nineties—a tradition the family especially cherished and now dearly misses.

In her late 80s, when driving and maintaining a home became more difficult, she transitioned to a one-bedroom condo in San Francisco. There, she maintained her independent routines, enjoyed walks in her neighborhood, and kept up her pizza-making tradition. She remained connected to the world around her, continuing her daily walks and engaging with her surroundings. Wherever she lived, she found a way to adapt—carrying with her the quiet resilience that had defined so much of her life.

In her mid nineties, she made her final move to Peninsula Del Rey, where she continued to carry herself with grace. Her knitting slowed as her dexterity declined, but she found new creative outlets. She began attending a watercolor painting class on Sundays, and each week she would proudly point to her latest creation on the wall. By the final years of her life, her kitchen wall was covered in these paintings—simple, joyful expressions of a creativity that never left her. "I’m not very good at it," she’d say with a smile, "but I sure am having fun."

Throughout her life, Mom was a devoted Catholic. Even as many in the family moved away from the church, she held tightly to her faith. It was a quiet, steady presence in her life—a source of strength, comfort, and meaning that she never let go of.

Family was important to her, even if distance sometimes made close connection a challenge. She stayed connected in her way: faithfully calling on birthdays and holidays, sending Christmas cards year after year, and welcoming visits whenever they were possible. She wasn’t the kind of grandmother who fussed or hovered, but her pride and love ran deep.

As she grew older, she often said with a wry smile, "Getting old isn't for sissies." Even in her later years, she met life’s challenges with grace and humor.

Mom left this world peacefully, with nothing left unsaid. It’s a gift I’ll always treasure. Today, we don’t just honor how long she lived, but how fully she lived—with strength, humor, curiosity, and love. We carry her with us now—in our memories, our stories, and in the quiet strength she taught us to live by.

Funeral services will be held on Wednesday, June 25th, 2025, at 11:00 a.m. at the M.J. Colucci and Son Niagara Funeral Chapel, 2730 Military Road, Niagara Falls, NY 14304. Entombment will follow at the Gate of Heaven Cemetery, 500 Riverdale Cemetery Rd, Lewiston, NY 14092. The service will also be available remotely via Zoom for those who cannot attend in person. The link will be available on M.J. Colucci and Son Niagara Funeral Chapel’s website closer to the service date.

Name: Tara Parker
Ann and I became fast friends after I moved into the studio apartment above her garage in Half Moon Bay. I loved the space (thank you David!) with its vaulted ceilings, deck, French doors, and large windows with flower boxes. Ann and I enjoyed exploring the sights along the coast together and spent happy afternoons strolling Main Street enjoying the charming shops. Ann taught me how to knit. She was an accomplished knitter; creating her own designs. I was in awe of everything she made. After Ann moved to San Francisco we continued our visits. Piazza D’ Angelo in Mill Valley became our favorite restaurant. Ann always dressed beautifully and wore jewelry that her husband bought for her. She loved sharing stories of their travels and the places where he bought some of her jewelry. On one of our lunches Ann was reminiscing about her time living on Cape Cod. She wanted more than anything to spend one last time on the Cape, see her house, and visit with friends. I sensed her longing and said that maybe it could still happen. She said that traveling would be much too difficult if not impossible. I suggested going with her and that with the help of airport and airline staff maybe we could make it happen. By the end of our lunch we were making plans to go to the Cape together. And two months later we were on a plane to realize Ann’s dream. Ann was a wonderful traveling companion. She was always positive and open to new things. We laughted a lot. We stayed in a charming little cottage at Rock Harbor near a Quintessential New England Lobster Shack. One evening we parked our rental car at the bottom of the hill in front of the house where she had lived. She shared a few memories but mostly we just sat quietly as tears formed in her eyes. One of her friends took us on an exhilarating motorboat ride. At one point I turned around to say something to Ann as she sat behind me. With the wind in her hair, a twinkle in her eye and the most joyful smile I was overtaken by how beautiful and youthful she looked. It was a moment outside of time - a moment I’ll never forget. A moment I wish I'd captured on film to share with David.

Name: William Sterner
My younger brother Raymond was good friends with Ann and Nassea's son David. My best friend's family also lived on LaFayette Circle and in my travels across the neighborhood to see my friend, I met the Hodges. They always had a smile and an encouraging word, and I would see them often on their walks in the neighborhood. Shortly after I returned home from Vietnam, my brother passed, and David and I became close friends. I also became closer the Ann and Nassea and found them to be warm and caring. I often stopped to say Hi when I was passing through. They were some of the faces that made my childhood and I'll miss them dearly.

Name: Kristina Kopacz Keller
Beautiful words from a great man, friend and devoted son. My heart breaks for you and your family. I know how much she meant to you, David. She was quite a woman, Mom and Grandmother. 
It’s very hard to lose a mom. Always keep her voice in you heart and mind. Hearing it will always give you comfort. Much Love.

Name: Susan Rowe
Ken and I visited Auntie Ann late October 2024. We all enjoyed lunch as Ann filled us in on the lovely friends and beautiful facility she came to know during her stay. As we met her staff and friends it was quick to see that all loved and enjoyed her as we do. So many hello's and introductions. We enjoyed our visit sharing stories past and present. What a special time we will remember. 
We did not say goodbye but rather until next time, hugs & kisses.
Much love to you and your family David, you have a life time of special memories. 
Sue and Ken Rowe