Claire R. Berner

Claire Regina Walls was born on July 30^th, 1935, in Philadelphia, PA.  From her mother, Margaret Connolly, she got her abiding moral compass.  If you knew her, you’ve heard her say, “Never lie, cheat or steal.”  She also took from her mother the name that all her grandkids know her by: Nannie, or Nan.  From her father, Jimmy Walls, she inherited an impish sense of humor.  Her mother and father were not well suited to each, and though she loved them both, they divorced.  In those days of depression and world war, the best place for Nan and her sister Peggy was an orphanage run by the Sisters of Mercy.  Nan developed a strong sense of self-reliance from the good Sisters.

In her mid-teens, she could return to live with her mother.  Shortly thereafter she met the love of her life, Jack Berner.  They married, he joined the Army, and the whirlwind began.  A quick word association tour of her life:  Move once a year to a different, far-flung Army post.  One child, then two and so on up to five.  Army Brothers and Sisters: the Breens, Browns, Cianciolas, Roches, Stewarts, Zeltmans, and many more.  Back to Philly during tours to Korea and Vietnam, and what normal families considered extended family: Walls, Berner, and the Doughertys, and the Connollys, Pattersons, Petries, and Taylors.  The inevitable tour at the Pentagon: Kettering and the Carrolls (times 2), Deosarans, Ferketics, Fletts, MacDonalds, Masters and Teagues, and our first roots in Maryland.  Frankfurt and Fliegerhorst in Germany, and more extended family:  the Brophys, Clarks, Eisimingers, and, in the tiny French village of Valleroy, Natalie and Vatsik.  Back to Kettering and then Ft. Meade: and adopting a squad of West Point cadets, adding Seadler and Perwich to Brophy and Clark.  And then Carriage Hills: the Mitchells among others; and Greg Dougherty went to Navy, and they adopted about half the Annapolis class of 1981, including Jaime.  And then Tim Dougherty, and Bill Rothenbock, and more platoons of adopted Mids.  And then the weddings to Andy, Chris, Lynn, and Christine, and Lydia and Kathy, and the extended family grew.  And then the grandkids, eventually 11 in all.  And with the grandkids, more adoptions:  hockey teams, lacrosse teams, Irish dancing squads.

In March, 2005, God called Jack home early.  It was a hard blow.  And so it fell to Nan to lead our extended family by herself.  Which she did with gusto.  Then the move to Fluttering Leaf Trail, and Sandy and Caroline (oh, and did she mention Caroline’s two priest sons?), and all the other wonderful neighbors.  And then the great grandkids, 11 so far, and counting.  And she adopted Alby, and as she began to slow down, her caregiver, Terry, and eventually even her hospice nurses fell under her wing.  Until, finally, she died last Thursday. 

How to sum up Nan’s life?  How did she accumulate friends and incorporate them into family as others accumulate wealth?  Let’s do an experiment.  Take a second.  Think of a good memory with Nan.  (Pause, encourage.)  OK, got one?  Now, think of another.  (Pause.)

Now, if one of your favorite memories of Nan involves laughing, raise your hand.  (Go ahead…).  Laughter was one of her secret weapons.  Sometimes it was a joke or a skit.  Did you ever see her Mummer’s strut?  Did she tell you about her Iggles?  Other times it was a story, told with just the right tone and timing and twinkle in her eye.  No doubt you have heard about being the Polka Queen of Philly.  And who wouldn’t have wanted to be a fly on the wall of the pubs when Claire Carroll and Claire Berner went visiting Ireland?  Still other times, the joke was a little bit naughty.  I never knew for sure if her “sharp Irish tongue” referred to that brogue accent she developed after her trips to Ireland, or to some of her little digs.  You laughed!  We all laughed!  Often from your belly, while slapping your knee and with tears in your eyes.  Being with Nan was just plain fun. 

In another church, in January, 1957, another priest of the Roman Catholic Church married Jack and Claire, and no doubt he told them to love one another, because in the love of the family we first come to know the love of God.  Nan took that seriously.  I will bet dollars to donuts that one of your favorite memories of Nan involved an expression of her love.  Sometimes it was the usual, sentimental kind of love.  She would say, “I love you baby,” and you would respond, “I love you baby back.”  Other times, it was the kind of love that says, “No, that was wrong, and you can do better.”  That kind could be delivered with “a boot in the root.”  Always it was a fierce defense of her family and friends.  She was in your corner, and you knew it.  Always it was sacrificial.  Does anyone remember Nan ever thinking of herself before another person?  Her last great act of love was to hold on, for 7 days, without food or water, to give her kids, grandkids and great grandkids time to accept that her death was coming.  Yes, she took that wedding advice about love and the family to heart, and she passed it on.

Combining her love of laughter and love of family, she had one saying that she used increasingly over the last decade.  She liked to remind us that she had a “hot date in Arlington.”  Well, Nan, it is almost time to keep that date.  But before that, when you see Poppy in heaven, tell him that your extended family and friends, and his extended family and friends, think you did a great job these past 14 years.  We are, all of us, grateful for your life. 

Rest in Peace, Claire Regina Walls Berner.