In Loving Memory of Jo Seay

 In first Thessalonians 4:11 Paul urges his readers to “. . . make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.”

This scripture so aptly describes my mother, Jo Seay, one who embodied Paul’s teachings in her quiet, respectful ways through her whole life. 

As a child, Jo’s life reflected the heart of a daughter devoted to loving and honoring her parents, Clyman and Kathleen Sanford. Born April 23, 1935, she was the oldest of three girls, each five years younger than the one born before. After Jo came Maureen, then Charlotte.  It was a simple beginning of hard work on Clyman’s farm in Vernon, Alabama.  Jo told stories of her parents chopping wood, raising animals, picking cotton, gathering eggs, and dressing their girls from repurposed feed sacks. Her father had a talent for charming animals; a barn cat that sat near the milking stool and would open her mouth when Clyman offered a squirt of milk; a rooster named Pete who would crow for a peanut; and even a king snake he charmed to keep the copperheads out from under his hens.

Jo loved to read from an early age and was a serious student, always quiet in class and well behaved.  She said, “I knew if I got in trouble in school, it would be worse when I got home, so I never got in trouble.”  She showed good sense, had an excellent memory, and made high marks.  She used that good sense in fifth grade to tell Olen Seay to “hush,” when he asked her to marry him during a spelling test.

Despite all that hard work, the girls cherished those moments when they could coax their mother to the piano so they could gather around and sing gospel music. Family and faith were the foundation of their existence. Jo answered the gospel call at a young age and was faithful in church attendance throughout her life, a habit of obedience that began with her parents.

Other stories from Jo’s childhood that her family loved to hear were about her father’s “rolling store.” Clyman drove his traveling shop—described as a truck fitted with shelves and refrigeration—down Lamar county roads, bringing necessities to families during post-depression times when rural people couldn’t run to town for supplies.  He kept it stocked with treats like candy bars and ice-cold RC Cola.  His daughters talked about how special it was when they got a chance to go with him. Jo remembered how fun it was to eat a simple lunch of Vienna Sausages from a can with saltines.

When Jo graduated high school and went on to study business in Birmingham, she visited home every chance she got. She enjoyed her weekdays of work at a food broker’s business and spoke fondly of her boss, Mr. Bradford.  In her true form, she was meticulous in her short-hand and typing skills, as well as being an excellent bookkeeper.

One day when walking from work to her rooms at the YWCA, she stopped at a pet shop window and was charmed by a tiny puppy bouncing in her pen.  Jo couldn’t resist stopping by again on her drive to visit her family.  It was still there, and that weekend Penny, her beloved red Pomeranian accompanied her to Vernon.  Clyman immediately took to Penny, who could fit in the palm of his hand.  She fit snugly in his pocket and soon she went everywhere he did.  Jo told about how badly he spoiled that dog saying, “After adding lots of cream and sugar, he used to pour some of his coffee into his saucer to cool, and then shared it with Penny!”

During her time in Birmingham, she became reacquainted with her old classmate, Olen Seay. When he kept hitch-hiking from Auburn to see her on the weekends, her father started commenting, “Is that Waters boy coming again?” Christmas Day of 1959, about thirteen years after his first unsuccessful proposal, Olen and Jo married at their minister’s house.  It was a quiet affair with only the preacher and his wife as witnesses.

The newlyweds were off to Quantico, Virginia the next day, where Olen began his career in the Marine Corps. Shortly after he finished The Basic School, they journeyed from Virginia to the opposite coast in Jo’s ’55 four-door Ford, crossing the dessert before the days of air conditioning and bottled water. They arrived fairly unharmed in California and lived in San Clemente for six weeks until Olen sailed for his first remote assignment in Okinawa. This began Jo’s pilgrimages back home to Alabama whenever duty called her husband overseas. She returned to Birmingham, working for another food broker while studying music at a local college.

December 27, their first child, Rhonda Kathleen was born. Olen liked to tease Jo that they were married on the 25^th and Rhonda came along on the 27^th. . . and after a couple seconds he would add, “four years later.” They were stationed at Paris Island, South Carolina at that time. From there they went to Camp Lejeune North Carolina before Olen was sent to Vietnam.

Their second child, Bradley Andrew, was born while he was in Vietnam.  Jo sent news to him through the American Red Cross.  When Olen couldn’t believe he had a son, she sent him photographic proof! Andrew was the delight of the family’s life.

On return from Vietnam, the family was able to join Olen on his next assignment in Subic Bay, the Philippines. They kept the pregnancy of their third child a secret while they were so far from home.  Imagine the family’s surprise to get a phone call in January of 1970 with the news, “We have a girl: Faith Adene.” Jo was overjoyed to have her little princess, her drummer boy, and a lovely china doll with flawless ringlet curls.

From the tropics of the South Pacific to the northeastern U.S., and Albany, NY, Jo had gone about as far from Alabama as she could ever have imagined. The years of home-making were interspersed with trips to Vernon, reuniting her with her mother and sisters.  Many hours were spent on her mother Kathleen’s porch swing visiting the loved ones she yearned for when away.

She brought the same conscientious devotion to raising her children that she had shown throughout her working life.  Jo was an excellent seamstress, knitter and crocheter, as well as embroiderer and baker.  She stayed awake many late nights finishing Easter clothes for special Sundays. Each night, she and Olen had a simple family devotional of songs, scripture, and prayer before bedtime. She taught her children to read at young ages and always read their favorite stories, instilling in them her love of literature.  She also set the example of loving to read herself and began each day with her coffee and Bible.  Any free moment during the day, she escaped into the worlds of her favorite authors, often following one novel with the same writer’s other books until she had completed their entire works.

Her life was one of simple comforts over extravagant elegance. She chose cornbread over croissants, purple hull peas over petit fours, sweet tea over spirits.  She was known for her delicious pie crusts, and whenever she baked one, she used the leftover dough to make a special treat—rolling it into a square, sprinkling it with cinnamon sugar, and shaping it into little swirls her children eagerly devoured. Biscuits and muffins were plentiful. Olen loved her beef stew, and she cooked an asparagus casserole for him on special occasions.  For church potlucks she spent hours on her monkey-bread, a pull apart yeast roll that was always in demand.  You couldn’t beat her pound cakes and pecan pies.

Church was always important. The first thing the Seays did upon arriving at a new duty station was to find a place to worship and join the local congregation in its work. Many special people became family to Jo, and she grieved leaving them every time she moved. 

Jo returned once more to Vernon while Olen deployed for his last tour to Okinawa.  Upon his homecoming, they erected the exterior of a log cabin on a ridge behind her mother’s house, a happy signal that his retirement was drawing near.  On their last assignment, the family made lifelong friends at Oceana Church of Christ while they lived in Norfolk, VA.  In 1977, it was at last, time to return to her home, and the Seays came south permanently.

Jo returned to the workforce after they were settled.  She spent several years as the secretary at her former high school at the same time her husband taught history down the hall.  She completed her career years as legal secretary and worked for District Judge Ed Gosa, a job she found rewarding and to which she dedicated her tranquil thoroughness.

Throughout her life her tender heart was moved to help those in need—whether people or the abandoned animals she lovingly took in. She was as crazy about animals as her father was. Any suffering animal she found got food, medical care, and often became a part of her family. Once her children were grown and gone, she found even more time to devote to those in need. She became an advocate for foster children, and gave generously of her time and resources to Agape Children’s Home and the Humane Society. 

Her grandchildren were her greatest joy. She cherished every visit, delighted in their photographs displayed on her refrigerator, and took special care in choosing just the right gifts for Christmas and birthdays. They in turn appreciated her gentle spirit and love for animals. All who knew Jo deeply valued her sweet demeanor, her earnest smile, patient listening, and generous heart.

Her devotion to her parents continued into her advanced years. Jo often spoke of her father who died when she was newly married.  She spent years visiting her mother daily in the nursing home before Kathleen succumbed to Alzheimer’s.  She also mourned deeply for the loss of her sister Maureen. At the time of her sister’s passing, Jo’s own cognition was declining, and she mourned over again many times when reminded of Maureen’s death.  Even as her own mind suffered, she remembered she loved Jesus, and singing about Him always perked her up. She also loved thinking about, reading about, and singing about heaven.  Jo’s family is comforted in the knowledge that she is reunited with her father, who she had missed for some seventy years, her dear mother, and precious sister.  What a reunion that must have been when Jo was called home to heaven on October 3, 2025. 

Paul began that passage I quoted in the beginning by commending the Thessalonians in how well they loved, and encouraging them to love even more. May the memory of my sweet mother, Jo Seay, a woman of integrity, compassion, quiet humility, and extravagant generosity remind us of how well we love and encourage us to love even more.