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WITH A SONG IN HER HEART:
Remembering Sedona Schnebly
“From the mind
of a single, long vine, one
hundred opening lives.”
--Chiyo-ni, Women in Praise of the Sacred
Sedona, the city of the red rocks, with its strong
feminine energy was named after one of its pioneering female
settlers—Sedona Miller Schnebly, the wife of the town’s first
postmaster. The christening over 100 years ago on June 26, 1902, is
said to have been a historical accident, attributed to the need for
a name that was shorter than the other suggestions—Schnebly Station,
Red Rock Crossing and Oak Creek Station. But can something so
significant truly be an accident?
Most
people know very little about Sedona Arabella Miller Schnebly, the
namesake of one of the most beautiful cities in the world and a
must-see stop in Arizona. If they have any image at all of this
remarkable woman, it comes from the monumental bronze created by
Susan Kliewer, which stands outside the Sedona Public Library.
Passersby look up at a reserved, turn-of-the century woman who has a
basket of apples under her arm and one in an outstretched hand. That
gesture of hospitality and the inscription, which applauds her
industriousness and love of education, do pay tribute to qualities
that permeated Sedona’s life, but the image is not a realistic
likeness nor does it hint at the spirit that has since inspired four
generations of progeny and continues to resonate in the city’s
history.
A symbol for the community
When her
brother-in-law Ellsworth suggested that Sedona’s name be given to
the growing community, historic records indicate that he commented
how well her character would stand as a symbol for the town. One
wonders what he meant.
What kind of woman was
Sedona?
Even across time, one can feel the spirit of Sedona.
She is remembered as a vibrant, likeable woman who approached life with a song
in her heart, no matter what she faced. She was a person of principle and
integrity, who was fun to be around and in touch with the sacred in her daily
life. Sedona was connected to herself, to her family, to her community and to
God. A sense of grace and graciousness infused her life.
A prosperous beginning
Sedona Arabella Miller was born into a large, upper middle
class family of Pennsylvania Dutch ancestry on February 24, 1877. She was one of
12 children, a petite, dark-haired woman with haunting eyes that evoked mystery,
magic and tragedy—even before her life had its share of suffering. Until
her death in 1950, Sedona’s hazel eyes defined her face like deep ancient pools,
and to look at them in photographs hints at the depth that she brought to life.
Her mother Amanda favored melodic names for her daughters. Sedona took her place
beside Azzallea, Lily, Pearl and Goldie. The unusual name with its mysterious
derivation suited Sedona right from the start. Although in her demeanor,
interests and style, Sedona was a woman of her class and era, in her
independence, adventurous spirit and commitment to education, she was ahead of
her time.
As a child and
adolescent Sedona lived a life of privilege, the daughter of a large
landowner in Gorin, Missouri. Sedona attended a private finishing
school. She learned German, elocution and how to play the piano and
organ. But she was also expected to work hard and carry her weight
both in the fields and in the house. This ability to stand on her
own two feet continued throughout her life. In her marriage she was
always a partner, naturally carrying half the workload, and making
do when the Schneblys were down on their luck. Even well into her
sixties she insisted on doing odd jobs to help make ends meet and on
helping Carl make repairs around the house. “She enjoyed work too
much,” recalled her son Ellsworth.But Sedona was
by no means submissive. Indeed, she dared to make decisions early on
to live her life according to an inner light, not social dictates.
When she was 20 years old, Sedona defied her father, a prominent
Methodist, by marrying Carl Schnebly, a Presbyterian. Four years
later when Sedona agreed to move west with her husband, her father
tried to stop her by threatening her with disinheritance. She went
anyway, and her father cut her out of his will. That strength of
character that allowed Sedona to strike out on her own served her
well throughout her life, helping her to adjust to changing
circumstances.
A new life Like many Sedonians after her, Sedona Schnebly left the life she knew behind
when she and her husband came with their first two (of six) children to Northern
Arizona in search of a better life. Sedona went from a lively adolescence, which
included several proposals before her marriage at age 20, to a life of near
isolation. She was flexible and adapted to her new life that included farming
and looking after the frequent visitors who came with Carl to enjoy the beauty
of the red rocks and Oak Creek Canyon. When she moved away, she created
beauty even where there was none, and her piano was always close by.
Letters were
Sedona’s primary connection with the outside world, and she wrote
every day sharing news of her life in a neat, small, legible script.
For many years there was a mandatory afternoon siesta at the
Schnebly household to give Sedona the space she needed to keep up
with her correspondence. Even after World War II she would read the
letters she got out loud to everyone who was in the house. In her
later years, the radio was another link to the world. In the
evenings the Schneblys sat under a juniper tree and listened to
comedy shows and the news.
This awareness of her needs, of who she was, gave Sedona a center and strength.
She was comfortable with herself and not afraid to express her distinctive
style. She loved oversized, flower-studded hats, lace collars and the color
blue, and she could sew, embroider, crotchet and quilt. She created sunbonnets
to safeguard her fair complexion. She made all her family’s clothes, including
flowing nightgowns for herself with French seams, and in her golden years she
made clothes for her granddaughters. Her rose quilt at the Sedona Historical
Society remains vibrant even after many years.Connection to family
For Sedona, her family
was her heart, and she always looked after their needs. When a
tragic accident took the life of her daughter Pearl, it nearly broke
her spirit, and it turned her life upside down. But she pulled
through without bitterness and was grateful for the blessings that
life did bring.“No mother in
spite of hardships, handicaps and adversities could have sacrificed
more or done more for her children than our mother did for the six
of us,” her son Ellsworth recalled in his memoir. Her daughter Clara
gave a similar report to Kate Rutland-Thorne: “Mother and dad were
very caring parents and did all they could to make us happy.”
Sedona cared
not only for her family, but also for the larger family of
humanity. Her doors were always open to welcome strangers, and her
table was always big enough for one more place. Sedona cared for
the sick, often nursing them to health, and she always had a kind
word to say. Her son Ellsworth spoke extensively about her tolerance
and refusal to judge others. “When she disagreed with what other
people said or did, she would often excuse them by saying that none
of us can understand why we or others may make mistakes or say the
wrong things,” he said.Connection to community
With such a generous and loving attitude, it is no surprise that Sedona was
generally liked. From her childhood people called her “Dona,” and in her
adult years she became “Aunt Dona.” “Aunt Dona was particularly popular
with the children. As the woman who played the church piano, gave out the
mail and passed along extra favors of all sorts, Sedona was a village symbol of
song and glad-tidings,” wrote Elizabeth Rigby of Sedona’s early years.
She never lost that playful spirit. “Under the day bed in her living room was a
wooden box about 12 x 20 inches filled with toys or some makeshift things for
children to play with when they visited. And much use they did get,” recalls her
granddaughter Paula Schnebly Hokanson. The toys were simple but left
plenty of room for the imagination, a quality that Sedona had plenty of.
Children could make towns with wooden blocks and spools, go on adventures in a
Tootsie Toy delivery truck or amuse themselves with a wooden paddle and ball.
Her cookie jar was always full for the many children who came to visit.
Throughout her
life, Sedona enjoyed the company of women. She maintained a warm
relationship with her sisters who kept her abreast of news and
fashion trends. In Missouri, she belonged to the Women’s Christian
Temperance Union and traveled to their conventions. In Arizona,
Sedona organized a quilting bee, which was always buzzing with
friendly voices and camaraderie and she enjoyed outings with her
girl friends to Flagstaff. These women knew Sedona’s hopes and
dreams, sorrows and disappointments. In a poignant portrait, her
friend Helen Jordan captured Sedona’s vulnerability and gentleness.
That painting still hangs in the Sedona Schnebly room of the Sedona
Historical Society.The creative side of Sedona
Sedona
appreciated the arts and how they enhanced life. She had a quick
wit, and spontaneously created mind teasers and limericks for the
enjoyment of her family and friends. She had a passion for music
and literature and frequently sang and played the piano. She loved
singing alto, recalls Paula, when she wasn’t needed to lead the
melody. She favored sacred music and her favorite pieces were “Abide
with Me,” “Whispering Hope” and “In the Garden.” Still, she enjoyed
the music of her day and subscribed to Etude, a musical
magazine, from which she played duets with her granddaughters.
In the kitchen and garden
her creativity flourished. Sedona took great pride in her cooking,
which was extolled far and wide. She roasted meats, stuffed
vegetables, canned hundreds of jars of fruits and vegetables and
made biscuits, that although small, were 3 inches high and so light
that there was never a biscuit left—no matter how many she made,
recalls granddaughter Pat Schnebly Ceballos.
The Schnebly garden was a
mass of Victorian color, and it changed from season to season.
“Every Sunday my grandmother carried whatever was blooming to church
to be shared with friends there after use on the altar,” recalls
granddaughter Paula. In late summer and early autumn her dahlias
were in full bloom in deep colors and as big as plates. Her roses
were showpieces, her sweet peas came in pastel shades, her asparagus
fern overflowed and her gladiolas edged the garden and added color
in and outside the house. On the windowsills in her living room
there was nearly always a geranium in bloom; and irises—from white
to lavender—skirted the property.The spiritual life of Sedona
It’s not
surprising that the matriarch of one of the Southwest’s holy spots
was a woman with a deep faith and conviction, and that her religion
provided her with not only a footing but also a way to structure and
live her life. Sedona was a devout Christian with a deep respect
for others. That faith stood by her in times of happiness and
tragedy. It gave the song in her heart expression and enveloped her
marriage and family. It also grounded her through the death of two
of her children, economic reversals and the sorrows that come into
everyone’s life.
Sedona read the
bible cover to cover many times and practiced what she preached in
her Sunday School classes, which she taught for three decades. She
was one of the founders of the Wayside Chapel in Sedona.
Sedona wasn’t just a churchgoer, however. A sense of spirituality permeated her
life. She often thought of others, never wanting to intrude, always looking for
a way to help. She had a deep sense of gratitude and appreciation. As her
life was coming to a close, Sedona took a drive past the houses of friends—the
Yorks, the Harts, the Jordans, the Brewers, the Willards, the Roberts and
others, commenting what the people had done for her and how much she had enjoyed
being with them on various occasions.
Despite her firm ideas about values and decorum, she accepted changing times and
was surprisingly flexible and open-minded, recalls her granddaughter Pat. She
also wasn’t afraid to admit when she was wrong. In one revealing incident
Sedona visited Oma Bird, owner of the Oak Creek Tavern. She broke with a
lifetime of campaigning against alcohol to extend a hand in friendship to Oma
because she admired her generosity towards those in need.
Sedona’s legacy Like most
lives, Sedona’s was made up of such moments that, when strung
together, created a pattern, flavor and meaning. Sedona Schnebly’s
legacy was not any extraordinary feat that she accomplished but her
courage to flow with the currents of life. She dared to love. She
dared to risk. She dared to make new beginnings over and over.
Sedona was a warrior of the spirit, a pioneer in that uncharted
territory. In short, Sedona was a woman who gave life everything she
had—even her name. As her son Ellsworth once said, “I feel that
those of you who never knew my mother would have loved her.
***********
Sedona writer
Sylvia Somerville is grateful to the Schnebly family for the
memories they shared. Sylvia can be reached at somervillesylvia@hotmail.com.
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