Born just before Christmas ("The worst birthdate ever! He got all the attention."), Ceil grew up on her parents' two consecutive dairy farms in Milford, Penna. One childhood memory that stayed with her was the bombing of Pearl Harbor on Sunday morning, Dec. 7, 1941. Four-year-old Ceil was dressed in her Sunday school clothes but playing at being a dog in a doghouse under the table. The radio was on. When her mother, usually very quiet and soft-spoken, suddenly screamed out, Ceil asked what was the matter. "Something awful has happened," was the answer. "Has the sky fallen?" Ceil asked. "Something worse even than that. We're at war." Ceil did not think at the time to ask what "war" was.
But there was a happier childhood memory as well. "It was the perfect day, the perfect time. I was 3-4 somewhat. It was a Spring day. I was with Daddy at his milkhouse on Foster Hill. We stepped outside and sat down on the grass under an apple tree. I remember most the colors. The sky was pure blue, no clouds, the grass a new bright green, and the blossoms on the tree pink and white. We sat together and drank pink, strawberry-flavored milk out of little half-pint bottles. My Daddy's love was unconditional--pure and profound. Right then my life was perfect. I keep this memory in a safe place in my brain. All through my life as rough spots come along, for comfort I go back in memory to that one perfect spot for peace, healing and comfort."
Ceil was graduated from Milford High School, and attended Endicott Junior College, Beverly, Mass., to become a medical secretary. She worked in that capacity in the radiology department at Massachusetts General Hospital for a year. She then moved to New York City to work at the American Cancer Society. For that organization she extensively traveled the United States and abroad, organizing and arranging conferences and other meetings. She was particularly enamored of her time in Tokyo.
In 1979 Ceil was in NYC working in personnel/human relations for another organization, but she had been downsized from her position and was given "a job without meaning". Walking dejectedly home to her apartment ("It was the worst day of my life"), she stopped for a drink. One Roger Weissang, a French chef, switched seats at the bar to sit next to Ceil. For him it was love at first sight. Drinks led to a meal and when Ceil ordered beef brains, used in the cuisines of France and other countries, Roger was quite impressed. Ceil's and Roger's dates consisted of many more meals in nice restaurants, but Roger would gravitate to the kitchens, leaving Ceil at the table enjoying her food.
In 1980, Ceil declared, "I guess we should have a little wedding." And so they did, in her Manhattan apartment. From there they moved to West Chester County and lived in a house that had 23 rooms on the second and third floors. In time they moved to Stanford, Conn., where they adopted a little girl, Angelique.
Ceil, Roger and Angelique later lived in "a lovely house" in N.J., but Ceil's father by this time was widowed and alone, back in Milford, Penna. They decided to move back to Milford, Roger saying it was "the right thing to do." The Weissangs lived in a house nearby that Ceil's father himself had built in 1981.
In her latter adult life, Ceil suffered from multiple sclerosis and was confined to a wheelchair. She and Roger eventually lived in a rest home near their last home and the farms where she had grown up. But to the end, Ceil enjoyed classical music and The New Yorker, and was a witty, intelligent and interesting person.
But there was a happier childhood memory as well. "It was the perfect day, the perfect time. I was 3-4 somewhat. It was a Spring day. I was with Daddy at his milkhouse on Foster Hill. We stepped outside and sat down on the grass under an apple tree. I remember most the colors. The sky was pure blue, no clouds, the grass a new bright green, and the blossoms on the tree pink and white. We sat together and drank pink, strawberry-flavored milk out of little half-pint bottles. My Daddy's love was unconditional--pure and profound. Right then my life was perfect. I keep this memory in a safe place in my brain. All through my life as rough spots come along, for comfort I go back in memory to that one perfect spot for peace, healing and comfort."
Ceil was graduated from Milford High School, and attended Endicott Junior College, Beverly, Mass., to become a medical secretary. She worked in that capacity in the radiology department at Massachusetts General Hospital for a year. She then moved to New York City to work at the American Cancer Society. For that organization she extensively traveled the United States and abroad, organizing and arranging conferences and other meetings. She was particularly enamored of her time in Tokyo.
In 1979 Ceil was in NYC working in personnel/human relations for another organization, but she had been downsized from her position and was given "a job without meaning". Walking dejectedly home to her apartment ("It was the worst day of my life"), she stopped for a drink. One Roger Weissang, a French chef, switched seats at the bar to sit next to Ceil. For him it was love at first sight. Drinks led to a meal and when Ceil ordered beef brains, used in the cuisines of France and other countries, Roger was quite impressed. Ceil's and Roger's dates consisted of many more meals in nice restaurants, but Roger would gravitate to the kitchens, leaving Ceil at the table enjoying her food.
In 1980, Ceil declared, "I guess we should have a little wedding." And so they did, in her Manhattan apartment. From there they moved to West Chester County and lived in a house that had 23 rooms on the second and third floors. In time they moved to Stanford, Conn., where they adopted a little girl, Angelique.
Ceil, Roger and Angelique later lived in "a lovely house" in N.J., but Ceil's father by this time was widowed and alone, back in Milford, Penna. They decided to move back to Milford, Roger saying it was "the right thing to do." The Weissangs lived in a house nearby that Ceil's father himself had built in 1981.
In her latter adult life, Ceil suffered from multiple sclerosis and was confined to a wheelchair. She and Roger eventually lived in a rest home near their last home and the farms where she had grown up. But to the end, Ceil enjoyed classical music and The New Yorker, and was a witty, intelligent and interesting person.
Born just before Christmas ("The worst birthdate ever! He got all the attention."), Ceil grew up on her parents' two consecutive dairy farms in Milford, Penna. One childhood memory that stayed with her was the bombing of Pearl Harbor on Sunday morning, Dec. 7, 1941. Four-year-old Ceil was dressed in her Sunday school clothes but playing at being a dog in a doghouse under the table. The radio was on. When her mother, usually very quiet and soft-spoken, suddenly screamed out, Ceil asked what was the matter. "Something awful has happened," was the answer. "Has the sky fallen?" Ceil asked. "Something worse even than that. We're at war." Ceil did not think at the time to ask what "war" was.
But there was a happier childhood memory as well. "It was the perfect day, the perfect time. I was 3-4 somewhat. It was a Spring day. I was with Daddy at his milkhouse on Foster Hill. We stepped outside and sat down on the grass under an apple tree. I remember most the colors. The sky was pure blue, no clouds, the grass a new bright green, and the blossoms on the tree pink and white. We sat together and drank pink, strawberry-flavored milk out of little half-pint bottles. My Daddy's love was unconditional--pure and profound. Right then my life was perfect. I keep this memory in a safe place in my brain. All through my life as rough spots come along, for comfort I go back in memory to that one perfect spot for peace, healing and comfort."
Ceil was graduated from Milford High School, and attended Endicott Junior College, Beverly, Mass., to become a medical secretary. She worked in that capacity in the radiology department at Massachusetts General Hospital for a year. She then moved to New York City to work at the American Cancer Society. For that organization she extensively traveled the United States and abroad, organizing and arranging conferences and other meetings. She was particularly enamored of her time in Tokyo.
In 1979 Ceil was in NYC working in personnel/human relations for another organization, but she had been downsized from her position and was given "a job without meaning". Walking dejectedly home to her apartment ("It was the worst day of my life"), she stopped for a drink. One Roger Weissang, a French chef, switched seats at the bar to sit next to Ceil. For him it was love at first sight. Drinks led to a meal and when Ceil ordered beef brains, used in the cuisines of France and other countries, Roger was quite impressed. Ceil's and Roger's dates consisted of many more meals in nice restaurants, but Roger would gravitate to the kitchens, leaving Ceil at the table enjoying her food.
In 1980, Ceil declared, "I guess we should have a little wedding." And so they did, in her Manhattan apartment. From there they moved to West Chester County and lived in a house that had 23 rooms on the second and third floors. In time they moved to Stanford, Conn., where they adopted a little girl, Angelique.
Ceil, Roger and Angelique later lived in "a lovely house" in N.J., but Ceil's father by this time was widowed and alone, back in Milford, Penna. They decided to move back to Milford, Roger saying it was "the right thing to do." The Weissangs lived in a house nearby that Ceil's father himself had built in 1981.
In her latter adult life, Ceil suffered from multiple sclerosis and was confined to a wheelchair. She and Roger eventually lived in a rest home near their last home and the farms where she had grown up. But to the end, Ceil enjoyed classical music and The New Yorker, and was a witty, intelligent and interesting person.
But there was a happier childhood memory as well. "It was the perfect day, the perfect time. I was 3-4 somewhat. It was a Spring day. I was with Daddy at his milkhouse on Foster Hill. We stepped outside and sat down on the grass under an apple tree. I remember most the colors. The sky was pure blue, no clouds, the grass a new bright green, and the blossoms on the tree pink and white. We sat together and drank pink, strawberry-flavored milk out of little half-pint bottles. My Daddy's love was unconditional--pure and profound. Right then my life was perfect. I keep this memory in a safe place in my brain. All through my life as rough spots come along, for comfort I go back in memory to that one perfect spot for peace, healing and comfort."
Ceil was graduated from Milford High School, and attended Endicott Junior College, Beverly, Mass., to become a medical secretary. She worked in that capacity in the radiology department at Massachusetts General Hospital for a year. She then moved to New York City to work at the American Cancer Society. For that organization she extensively traveled the United States and abroad, organizing and arranging conferences and other meetings. She was particularly enamored of her time in Tokyo.
In 1979 Ceil was in NYC working in personnel/human relations for another organization, but she had been downsized from her position and was given "a job without meaning". Walking dejectedly home to her apartment ("It was the worst day of my life"), she stopped for a drink. One Roger Weissang, a French chef, switched seats at the bar to sit next to Ceil. For him it was love at first sight. Drinks led to a meal and when Ceil ordered beef brains, used in the cuisines of France and other countries, Roger was quite impressed. Ceil's and Roger's dates consisted of many more meals in nice restaurants, but Roger would gravitate to the kitchens, leaving Ceil at the table enjoying her food.
In 1980, Ceil declared, "I guess we should have a little wedding." And so they did, in her Manhattan apartment. From there they moved to West Chester County and lived in a house that had 23 rooms on the second and third floors. In time they moved to Stanford, Conn., where they adopted a little girl, Angelique.
Ceil, Roger and Angelique later lived in "a lovely house" in N.J., but Ceil's father by this time was widowed and alone, back in Milford, Penna. They decided to move back to Milford, Roger saying it was "the right thing to do." The Weissangs lived in a house nearby that Ceil's father himself had built in 1981.
In her latter adult life, Ceil suffered from multiple sclerosis and was confined to a wheelchair. She and Roger eventually lived in a rest home near their last home and the farms where she had grown up. But to the end, Ceil enjoyed classical music and The New Yorker, and was a witty, intelligent and interesting person.
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