Georgia Mary Cotsepowlos Joseph

 The Eulogy of 

I would like to begin this morning with the lyrics from a song that aptly describes my mother.

THE PRAYER 

(Carol Bayer Sayer/David Foster)

I pray you'll be our eyes and watch us where we go.

And help us to be wise in times we don't know.

Let this be our prayer when we lose our way.

Lead us to a place - guide us with your grace to a place where we'll be safe.

I pray we'll find your light and hold it in our hearts

when stars go out at night.

Let this be our prayer when shadows fill our day.

Lead us to a place - guide us with your grace to a place where we'll be safe.

We ask that life be kind and watch us from above.

We hope each soul will find another soul to love.

Let this be our prayer just like every child.

Need to find a place-

guide us with your grace.

five us faith so we'll be safe.

Georgia Mary Cotsepowlos Joseph was the second of five daughters born to Greek immigrant Giorgi Cotsepowlos who hailed from the city of Tripolis in the Greek Peloponnese and to his Lebanese immigrant wife Sarah Serour who came from the port city of Betroun, Lebanon. My mother was born in Bay City, Michigan on the 14th day of October, when the 20th century was 18 years young. Mom passed away on Saturday, May 12, 2007 at my sister’s home surrounded by family. Georgia Joseph was 88 years old.

Growing up in Bay City, my mother never accomplished much of an education, as she was pressed into work in her father’s candy store and restaurant at a very early age during the Depression. They Americanized their last name to ‘Coulos’ from the Greek ‘Cotsepowlos’, which translates to “Son of the Limping Man”. In 1944, her mother, father and her four sisters all pulled up stakes and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. My mother was preceded in death by her parents and all but one of her sisters, Catherine who remains in Arizona along with several nieces, nephews and cousins.

My mother met and married my dad, Louis “Eddie” Joseph on June  30, 1945. They were married for almost 54 years when my father passed away in January of 1999. I am the third child of four of their union along with my sister Carm and my brothers George and Larry. There are six grandchildren, Chrissy, Amy, Matthew, Stephanie, Jimmy and Christopher. And there are five great grandchildren, Victoria, Ryan, Yvonne, Ian and Evan. And she was a second mother to my brother-in-law Jim, my sisters-in-law Candice and Tracey and my loving wife Carolyn.

Mom spent nearly twenty years working for the Ford Motor Company in Highland   Park and Utica. Though I always thought she found her career niche as the world’s greatest shampoo girl at my sister Carm’s Beauty Salon. 

My mother should have been in Public Relations. She was fearless. She would go up to anyone and promote everything from my brother George’s recordings to my daughter’s high school plays. She was fiercely devoted to her family and her church. As a matter of fact, she would blindly root each weekend for the University of Notre Dame only because they were a Catholic school.

A product of the Great Depression, I remember my mother washing out plastic bags to re-use. When she would ask you how much you paid for a certain item and if you stated a price that, to her, was exorbitant, she would reply “Yeah, for how many”? She had other sayings that we loved like “Let me show you this Greek trick” or if you asked Mom if she needed anything, she might reply “How about an inch of fifties”? Or my personal favorite saying of hers, “I felt like a penny waiting for change”.

My mom knew the date of everybody’s birthdays. So much so, that last Wednesday, when she awoke from a near comatose state, she asked about her great granddaughter Yvonne’s birthday which was that day. 

My mother cared about family and friends unlike anyone I have ever known. She was always visiting the sick or the funeral homes. After I moved out of the house, she would phone me and we would play a game I affectionately called “Guess Who Died?”. My mother would have that tone in her voice and I would say “Mom, are we going to play Guess Who Died?"And she’d respond something like this…”No. no, no Wayne…Listen… Remember your Aunt Afifa?”…“Yeah”… “Mike Abdullah’s mother?”… “Yeah”…”Well, her brother… back in the old country…the one with two toes on his left foot…he died”. “Gee, thanks ma…I’m really sorry to hear that”…Then she say, “Don’t worry, I sent a mass card”. 

Seriously, my mother was the face of compassion and the quiet confidence of faith in all our lives. My wife told me that my mother was the only person, that when you asked her to pray for you, you knew she would. 

I would like to impose on each of you here this morning in order to pay tribute to my sainted mother. In a moment, I am going to ask each of you to close your eyes and imagine a special place or a precious thing that is, to you, both exceptional and wonderful. It could be sitting by a lake or your favorite vacation spot or listening to the laughter of a child…whatever, I want you, now, to please take 10 seconds and close your eyes and imagine that place or that thing that brings you the greatest joy in life. Now open your eyes and look about you at this structure and you will see my mother’s perfect place. She loved this church. Every brick, every tile in these mosaics, every square inch of this sanctuary…this is where my loving mother found her greatest bliss…here amid the saints and the statues…amid the burning candles and the rhythmic prayers in Arabic and Aramaic…this building was my mother’s heaven on earth. So, it is only fitting that we gather here this morning and share one final time with her in her idyllic setting. 

You could not possibly think of my mother without thinking of church. When we were kids, my mother would attend mass 6 days a week and twice on Sundays. Talk about building a stairway to heaven. She, quite simply, loved to pray. She used to have a bumper sticker on her car that demonstrated her beliefs in three words…“Pray the Rosary”. If you had any trouble and you came to her for counsel, after calming you by saying “Ya I Nee” she would advise “Just say one Hail Mary”. Prayer was her solution…her “Raison d’etre”. In closing, I would like to share with you a poem I’ve written for my mother that is inspired by her prayers and by her unrelenting love and devotion to all of us. It is entitled:

WHO WILL LIGHT THE CANDLES?

(for my Mother)

Who will light the candles?

Who shall novena the saints?

Who will follow in your kneel prints?

Hail Georgia, filled with grace,

our human instance of the Lord’s work.

Blessed are you among women

and blessed are we, the living beads of your rosary.

Upon your rock this church was built

every brick - your flesh

every mortar - your bones

You have taught us to pray -

At your beseeching, we have hailed Mary 

and hallowed His name…

The saints will know you on sight 

and thank you for personifying their spirit.

Blest are we that you remained our beacon.

Your light, a mirrored reflection of His…

We may be your children

but you are the child of God -

Yours is the faith that examples.

Yours - the devotion that models.

Yours - the zeal that consecrates.

Holy Georgia, mother to us all,

pray for us sinners

intercede for our hesitant souls.

Each day that you were among us 

we saw the face of grace -

Each day without you

we will breathe your sacrament -

All the candles will shine unsteadily now –

Your memory will live in the 

flickering yellow wisps of flame

the ebony curls of smoke

and the blessed glow of your being…

“Be thee well -

This devoted son’s heart and soul 

are yours to keep.

Fare thee well -

May the Lord who watches all watch over thee –

May God’s heaven be your blanket as you softly sleep.”

(Maury Yeston & Peter Stone – Titanic-The Musical)

Now, alive forever in our hearts…you were right…

You can’t kill a good Greek…