Jane Ann (Furzland) Stelter
July 11, 1932 — October 30, 2022
Jane Ann (Furzland) Stelter
Evans, GA - Jane Ann (Furzland) Stelter of Evans, Georgia passed away peacefully at the age of 90 on October 30, 2022 surrounded by her three children.
Jane was born to Gertrude Caroline (Brucker) and William Edward Furzland on July 11, 1932 in Park Ridge, Illinois. She graduated with a degree in English from Ripon College in Ripon, Wisconsin, where she met her husband, Gerald Paul Stelter. They married in 1955 following their college graduations and relocated to Madison, Wisconsin, where she taught high school English and Spanish while her husband finished medical school.
After her husband’s enlistment in the US Army, she traveled the world as a military wife. No matter where they were stationed, she made lifelong friends and volunteered as a member of a number of organizations. Her interests included music, quilting, and art.
Jane was preceded in death by her husband, her parents, and brother, James Arthur Furzland. She leaves behind her children, Julie Ann Brassard (Mark) of Derry, New Hampshire, Thomas Paul Stelter (Amanda) of Augusta, Georgia, and Amy Elizabeth Plier (Scot) of East Troy, Wisconsin. Grandchildren include Shawn, Joshua, and Brandon Stelter, Patrick and Michael Brassard, Matthew Plier and Jane (Plier) Reilly, as well as 10 great-grandchildren.
There will be a family celebration of life in spring. Donations in her name can be made to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.
Inevitable Fall
I know that fall in inevitable
Like sun-up, sun-down, and ticking clocks.
But each year it seems a bit harsher.
Rain drives brown leaves before their time,
Loosened too soon from the towering oaks,
To spin into corners and shrubs and gutters.
“Not yet!” I cry. “I’m not done with this season.”
The peony bushes are crumpled and ugly,
And impatiens droop in our window box.
The lily bulbs sleep soundly ‘til spring.
Only the pansy dares show its face.
Rhododendrons sport buds that are tight with a chill,
But the camellia blooms sweetly in a sheltered spot.
“Maybe not all is dead,” I wonder anew.
I know that fall is inevitable.
Like our birth, our living , and our dying.
It’s a season that must be suffered
To appreciate the springtime of hope.
That what sleeps now, will awaken
To warmth, sweetness, and growth.
And the cycle carries us forward much too fast,
Much too fast.
By: Jane Stelter
Jane was born to Gertrude Caroline (Brucker) and William Edward Furzland on July 11, 1932 in Park Ridge, Illinois. She graduated with a degree in English from Ripon College in Ripon, Wisconsin, where she met her husband, Gerald Paul Stelter. They married in 1955 following their college graduations and relocated to Madison, Wisconsin, where she taught high school English and Spanish while her husband finished medical school.
After her husband’s enlistment in the US Army, she traveled the world as a military wife. No matter where they were stationed, she made lifelong friends and volunteered as a member of a number of organizations. Her interests included music, quilting, and art.
Jane was preceded in death by her husband, her parents, and brother, James Arthur Furzland. She leaves behind her children, Julie Ann Brassard (Mark) of Derry, New Hampshire, Thomas Paul Stelter (Amanda) of Augusta, Georgia, and Amy Elizabeth Plier (Scot) of East Troy, Wisconsin. Grandchildren include Shawn, Joshua, and Brandon Stelter, Patrick and Michael Brassard, Matthew Plier and Jane (Plier) Reilly, as well as 10 great-grandchildren.
There will be a family celebration of life in spring. Donations in her name can be made to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.
Inevitable Fall
I know that fall in inevitable
Like sun-up, sun-down, and ticking clocks.
But each year it seems a bit harsher.
Rain drives brown leaves before their time,
Loosened too soon from the towering oaks,
To spin into corners and shrubs and gutters.
“Not yet!” I cry. “I’m not done with this season.”
The peony bushes are crumpled and ugly,
And impatiens droop in our window box.
The lily bulbs sleep soundly ‘til spring.
Only the pansy dares show its face.
Rhododendrons sport buds that are tight with a chill,
But the camellia blooms sweetly in a sheltered spot.
“Maybe not all is dead,” I wonder anew.
I know that fall is inevitable.
Like our birth, our living , and our dying.
It’s a season that must be suffered
To appreciate the springtime of hope.
That what sleeps now, will awaken
To warmth, sweetness, and growth.
And the cycle carries us forward much too fast,
Much too fast.
By: Jane Stelter
To order memorial trees or send flowers to the family in memory of Jane Ann (Furzland) Stelter, please visit our flower store.
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