Marjorie Patterson Allen, age 97 of Pisgah, AL, passed away on Thursday, November 6, 2025.
Private services will be held at a later date.
Mrs. Allen is survived by her sons, Jimmie (Jill) Allen, Dennis (Linda) Allen; daughter, Martha Shelton; brother, Donald Patterson; sister, Alta Hughes; grandchildren, Barbra Kilgore, Holly Beard, Mandy Allen Bell, John Allen; ten great grandchildren; and two great great grandchildren.
Mrs. Bell was preceded in death by her husband, Jessie Allen; parents, Albert and Lila D. Patterson; sister, Elaine Allison; and brother, D.I. Patterson.
She came into this world in nineteen and twenty-eight;
When dust rose high and fortunes fell;
During the Great Depression. Her father lost his store, she’d tell;
She rode her horse to school most days;
But when she walked, it was cold and uphill both ways;
A girl who’d study to become a nurse;
To go to college, a family first;
Through wars and marches, cures and change,
The world we live in today must seem so strange;
From horse and buggy, marbles and jacks
to internet, cell phones, electric cars, and Big Macs;
Every Sunday, her house was full
of family and friends, after church we would pool;
We always knew we were in for a treat
From the gravy, rolls, okra, and apple pies we would eat;
She didn’t speak “I love you” much
But we could see it in her eyes, when her upper lip she would
touch;
She found comfort in writing and poetry
We’d gather around as she read so eloquently;
Her money she’d hide in freezer foil
Or pin safely beneath her waist.
As if the world could still be lost-
And she’d be ready just in case;
She lived through a tornado that stole her possessions.
Yet out of ruin, she stood with progression;
We knew she’d never be quite the same,
But still she moved forward, not forgetting the pain;
Several more times, she would come back from a trial–
Her bravery and strength were undeniable;
Seeing her great-grands always curated a smile
A brown bag full of gifts was her favorite style;
As the years passed and age took her gait
She was content to visit with family but “no roommate!”;
Time moved on and she remembered less,
But liked her lipstick and did not want her hair a mess
She never looked old–few wrinkles, no gray
She giggled when no one could guess her age;
Ninety Seven years of light;
Of poems and gardens and silent night;
She certainly left a legacy
Without her, there would be no you and me.
