Catesby Simspon’s mother, Pat Simpson, was fiercely strong-willed, up until the day she passed five years ago at age 93.
One day in her last years, after she had gone blind, Pat went to pull weeds behind the house. She slipped down the creek bank and grabbed a tree trunk to keep from falling in. Catesby says her mother hugged that tree for eight hours, waiting for someone to rescue her. The next day she was back out weeding.
Catesby says there was never any talking Pat out of doing what she wanted to do. “She remained doggedly independent,” she says.
In 2017, in her 90s, Pat was at the Women’s March in Washington, D.C. She refused to have a joint tombstone with her husband, Lad. “I’ll have my own rock,” Pat told the funeral director. She lived in and took care of her 238-year-old home, called Kiser Station, until 10 days before she passed.
Catesby tries to carry on that legacy by being an active force in the community.
After her mother passed, Catesby moved back to Kiser Station, taking over the 100-acre homeplace. She had moved into the house for the first time in third grade, when her parents were helping a neighbor look for a house and fell in love with the land.
Catesby, a graduate of Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania, is self-sufficient and politically active. She manages her father's cattle farm with her business partner, Kyle Sturgeon; is on the board of the Hopewell Museum; is a member of Friends of Stoner Creek environmental club; and is a regular fruit picker at Reed Valley Orchard.
“I just turned 68 last week, and you get to the point where there is more life left behind than in front of you,” she says. “You start thinking not what you can do for yourself, but what you can do for your community.”
Before cattle farming, she drove the Paris Library's bookmobile. In her most recent advocacy, she spoke at a library meeting against book banning, stating, “I believe in libraries.”
Kathy Carter, a good friend who also is on the museum board, says Catesby's bond with her mother was special. “They loved an occasional half a beer; they would split beer,” she says. “Pat probably spent her last day digging up weeds in her beautiful garden.”
Catesby took care of her mother with patience in her later years and let her live her life to the fullest until the end. Their relationship grew fonder as they got older. And while others sometimes questioned her, Catesby let her mother decide what she could and couldn’t do up until the day she died.
“We really were close in those last few years,” she says. “You take care of someone for a while and are close to them in a way you weren’t before.”
One day in her last years, after she had gone blind, Pat went to pull weeds behind the house. She slipped down the creek bank and grabbed a tree trunk to keep from falling in. Catesby says her mother hugged that tree for eight hours, waiting for someone to rescue her. The next day she was back out weeding.
Catesby says there was never any talking Pat out of doing what she wanted to do. “She remained doggedly independent,” she says.
In 2017, in her 90s, Pat was at the Women’s March in Washington, D.C. She refused to have a joint tombstone with her husband, Lad. “I’ll have my own rock,” Pat told the funeral director. She lived in and took care of her 238-year-old home, called Kiser Station, until 10 days before she passed.
Catesby tries to carry on that legacy by being an active force in the community.
After her mother passed, Catesby moved back to Kiser Station, taking over the 100-acre homeplace. She had moved into the house for the first time in third grade, when her parents were helping a neighbor look for a house and fell in love with the land.
Catesby, a graduate of Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania, is self-sufficient and politically active. She manages her father's cattle farm with her business partner, Kyle Sturgeon; is on the board of the Hopewell Museum; is a member of Friends of Stoner Creek environmental club; and is a regular fruit picker at Reed Valley Orchard.
“I just turned 68 last week, and you get to the point where there is more life left behind than in front of you,” she says. “You start thinking not what you can do for yourself, but what you can do for your community.”
Before cattle farming, she drove the Paris Library's bookmobile. In her most recent advocacy, she spoke at a library meeting against book banning, stating, “I believe in libraries.”
Kathy Carter, a good friend who also is on the museum board, says Catesby's bond with her mother was special. “They loved an occasional half a beer; they would split beer,” she says. “Pat probably spent her last day digging up weeds in her beautiful garden.”
Catesby took care of her mother with patience in her later years and let her live her life to the fullest until the end. Their relationship grew fonder as they got older. And while others sometimes questioned her, Catesby let her mother decide what she could and couldn’t do up until the day she died.
“We really were close in those last few years,” she says. “You take care of someone for a while and are close to them in a way you weren’t before.”
Published on The Mountain Workshop Website