From: The Barton Chronicle - September 15, 2010

On September 10, 2010, Melba Barber-Howland, 77, of Barton died on September 10, 2010.

Calling hours will be on Friday, September 17, at the Barton United Church from 12 to 1:30 p.m. with burial at the West Glover cemetery at 2 p.m. A celebration of her life will follow at the Barton United Church.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Trace Santos-Barber Scholarship, Morristown School District, P.O. Box 340, Morrisville, Vermont 05661.

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From: Find A Grave contributor, Cindy Walcott

The Candlepin is open once again, but Melba Howland of Barton will no longer be at her favorite corner table bantering with the regulars.
Surrounded by loving family, Mrs. Howland, died Friday afternoon, September 10, 2010, at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Hospital in Hanover, New Hampshire, gradually surrendering her tenacious grip on life.

She now joins her beloved grandson Trace, whose death at 14 several years before, nearly crushed her and from which she never quite recovered.

She leaves behind [names of survivors omitted]. She was predeceased by her husband, Chet Howland, and younger sister Almeda Bates, also of Florida.

Funeral services were kept very simple. Visiting hours were at the Barton United Church on September 12, and burial was at the West Glover Cemetery near where she had lived for many years. Placed with her ashes was a book by one of her favorite authors, Della T. Lutes. A reception followed at the Barton United Church with food and service generously provided by former Candlepin crew members.

Born Melba Elouise Locke on May 7, 1933, to Tessie and Vernon Locke of Barton, she was named for a famed opera singer, Melba, of Australia.

Mrs. Howland progressed from the pocket-sized charmer and, oh, so cute little Barton Academy cheerleader, to a ten year tour of office work for the now defunct St. J. Trucking Company; to a loving, firm and protective mother; to an unsought position as the quintessential matriarch of a large extended family (lavish hostess, valued confidante, and all around little friend); and, finally to the senior lady of ready wit and hearty laugh holding court at the Candlepin.

A Gee Whiz kid, she grew up in hard times, wanting to believe in that fairy tale world of white knights and little elves and happy endings. She had a huge, warm, and sunny heart, was sentimental, funny, and feisty (a careful male relative called her Mighty Mouse), and could be as stubborn as her Taurean birth sign. She was faithful to the core to those she trusted, and expected others to be the same. She liked to win arguments, no matter how long it took.

A morning person, she’d awaken with a mischievous grin, glowing all over, ready for the world. Just as easily she could be reserved and guarding that secret inner core where few were allowed to go, that backbone of steel so tightly wrapped in all those insecurities.
She went about her life with equal measures of quiet grace and infectious exuberance. While seldom petty, she delighted in bearing significant news. An insatiable and careful shopper, she loved the little stuff, anything small — books, drawings, decorations, and knickknacks of all kinds, filling her house to overflowing with every imaginable kind of keepsake.

Most of all she loved being the Super Mom and grandmother, overindulging her precious sons and later grandson, and often any kid in sight with abundant love, carefully selected gifts, and entertaining, spontaneous stories.

An excellent cook (though possessive of her recipes) and fastidious homemaker, she created warm and comfortable living spaces where she loved to gather with friends and family for most any occasion. At holidays those same folks would receive all kinds of goodies from Mrs. Howland’s prolific kitchen, carefully wrapped and delivered in person.

Modesty prevented her from seeing anything remarkable about her many talents: artist, poet, psychic, and a woman with a fertile imagination for drama and stories. Finding she was a published poet was a surprise to even close family members. A great reader who owned many books, she was also addicted to the afternoon soaps and would often invent scripts superior to those of the pro writers and could be critical of those writers’ inability to see the possibilities in their own work.

An accomplished artist, she produced quantities of little pen and ink drawings of old barns and nature studies. She would often predict mail arrival or visits of distant relatives. One occasion she surprised the family by answering a jeopardy question before it was even asked. Pages could be filled with strange and unexplainable but harmless happenings where she was involved.

Mrs. Howland had an incredible eye, could see deer in the shadows half a mile away, or from her full self-proclaimed height of four feet, 11 and a half inches, could spot two or three, four-leafed clovers some distance away. Repeatedly told a couch would not fit where she wanted it in a space between a door and a corner, she triumphed at the exact fit and muttered, “Oh, you men, if it were left up to you, you would still be inside your mothers looking for a way out.”

She was a remarkable lady who seemed blissfully unaware of the considerable influence she had on her circle of friends and family, and her passing leaves a huge hole for those many folks.

Knowing these few lines can never fully express our affection and admiration and deep sense of loss we can only say, “Goodbye Little Sunbeam, we loved you and we miss you…and always you have been so beautiful.”