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Ethel McGill

I had a sorrowful, yet beautiful experience Monday, December 1, attending the graveside service of Ethel Lucille Rogers McGill, who died at age 91 and was buried in Red Oak Cemetery northeast of Paris, alongside her husband, Clifton McGill, and in the company of many ancestors. I had last been there when Clifton was buried a long time past. My friend Judy Gibson and I rode many a mile horseback with Clifton McGill. Ethel was no horseback rider, though. She was a dedicated bowler.
Ethel was also my longtime archives volunteer. An accomplished historian and genealogist, she wrote the definitive name and subject index of A.W. Neville’s “Backward Glances” over the course of several years. It was an exhaustive project, and she did an excellent job. I eventually lost her to the hospital auxiliary, but she did untold hours of valuable work in the archives.
In addition, I knew her as a longtime member of Calvary United Methodist Church and a member of the Friendship Class, which I teach along with Chet Hilyer. I guess Ethel took every course of study ever offered at the church and served on practically all the committees at one time or another. She was an inspiration. In addition, over her long lifetime, Ethel overcame numerous major illnesses and surgeries. We would all but give her up for lost, and before we knew it, she was back up and going again. I don’t recall that whining or complaining was in her vocabulary.
I believe that Ethel McGill was one of the smartest women I’ve ever known. She was a mild-mannered and very quiet person, but she was a hard worker and one who was always busy. I can’t name her many clubs and organizations. Also, she was a dedicated “hand and foot” card player, and over the years, I’ve been sad to see her little card-playing “group” lose one member after another, but Ethel was hard to beat at cards!
However, it was a cold, bleak, and windy December day at Red Oak on Monday. As is often the case when a very elderly person dies, few family members were able to get there, and there were a few family friends, and a few church members. We huddled intimately within the small tent acting as a windbreak, Ethel’s casket, like her, simple, and her flowers few. At first, I was appalled, and then I thought that the simplicity of it was “so Ethel.” It was very appropriate. I think she would have been pleased.
Carol Rooks, without the benefit of any instrumental or recorded music, sang “In the Garden” and “How Great Thou Art,” two of Ethel’s favorite hymns, and as her friend Carol’s beautiful voice floated so sweetly in the cold air, I felt it was one of those memorable experiences that I will hold in my heart as long as I live.

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