Obituary for Violet B Konkel
Violet B. Konkel: August 7, 1925–September 10, 2021
“Sometimes you just have to take the LEAP and build your wings on the way down!”—sign on Vi Konkel’s windowsill, handwritten by her.
Violet B. Konkel took her biggest leap yet when she left this world on September 10, 2021, after ninety-six years of building her wings.
Violet was born on August 7, 1925, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She was the middle child of ten children born to hardworking Sicilian immigrants, Sarah Rosaria and James Vincenzo DiPiazza. Growing up during the Great Depression, Vi and her siblings shared clothing, beds, and chores––and fun, which they made themselves.
Born under the self-confident sign of Leo, Vi had faith in her intelligence and her potential, as well as a gift for joy. When she had a nickel for streetcar fare, she often chose to spend it on a handful of fresh potato chips from Woolworths instead.
Young Vi wanted to share joy and ease the burdens of others (a quality she never lost). One summer morning, she woke in the dark and packed a breakfast picnic. She and her youngest brothers, Gabe (12) and Jim (10), walked three miles to the lakefront to watch the sun come up over Lake Michigan. A police car stopped to investigate three young people alone on the beach with a beer cooler. She showed the officer the contents of the cooler: pancake-making supplies.
Vi got her first paying job at sixteen, delivering telegrams during World War II. Most of her earnings went to help the family. With her share, she bought her first clothes of choice: a red skirt and jacket.
Vi had a flair for fashion. She taught herself to sew, and after she married Gilbert Konkel, she mastered complicated Vogue patterns. She and Gil, a professional musician, had played together in a quartet for several years before they married.
Now in her own house, she taught herself to cook well too. She loved to feed others. “Abundance!” she would later reply without hesitation, when asked what she believed in. “Not for me, but to share.” Family, neighbors, and friends would be the lucky recipients of Vi’s handmade pasta, pizzelles, biscotti shaped like S’s and O’s, and other goodies.
Vi had worked in offices but found more meaning as a volunteer, visiting stroke patients and teaching ESL in the Hmong community, among other engaging work. A succession of Dalmatian dogs––Bingo, Freckles, and Baron—were constant companions. Creative work was always underway too––college classes in design and psychology, and poetry writing.
And music. Vi had studied a variety of musical instruments, starting with the cello at ten. At fifty-five, she hired a young organist, Sheri Masiakowski, for lessons. The two became lifelong friends.
When Gil died at seventy-one, Vi thought her happy life might be over. Taking another leap, Vi began a new chapter of her life, moving to Greendale Village at resident Sheri’s invitation. Visits from Vi’s sister Addie and her nieces Francesca and Lucinda livened up the house.
The new friends she made became her Greendale family, and her neighbor Teri called Vi the Matriarch of Clover Lane. Vi’s new dog, Nicky, was beloved by many too.
As always, Vi activated her life philosophy: “Say yes!” She brought a lifetime of curiosity and creativity to the village. She loved working in Sheri’s home-decorations store, Seasons of the Heart, and Margo’s Village Boutique—making good friends every step of the way, including coworkers Pat, Mary Ellen, and many others.
In her eighties, Vi began to paint in acrylics and, at eighty-nine, she held her first art show. At ninety, she retired from work, but didn’t stop building new wings. She toured Wisconsin with her niece Roberta, who convinced her to buy her first iPhone. Vi took to texting like a digital native.
Always a book reader, Vi was well known by her local librarians and loved her friend Paula’s gifts of new titles.
Never one to get stuck in a rut, Vi took up knitting and yarn spinning. The local yarn shop, Wool and Cotton Co., featured a photo of her on their website, wearing the snazzy gray and red sweater she’d knitted. Through the shop she made new friends, including Gina and Martha. She also relished getting to know knitter Hui-Jun from Shanghai.
As Vi’s health dwindled this summer, her wings were no longer strong, but her friends lifted her up and carried her through her final days. Dick and Sheri provided rides, breakfast dates and culinary delicacies; Cindy brought laughter and foot care; Lance, who she called her “knight in shining armor”, brought bread from Vi’s favorite Italian bakery Scordato’s, fellow Sicilian Kim provided Italian meals, Mary Ellen, Pat, Mary R., Jean and others provided rides to doctor’s appointments, Andy, Steve, Jess, Steve and Chris gave Vi a joyous, social whirlwind in her last days.
So many people loved and cared for Vi, they can’t all be named—these are just a few this writer (niece Francesca) can name off the top of her head. Vi loved and appreciated every little act of friendship. Text, cards, and calls flowed in until the last, and Vi loved them all. Her final week was full of smiles. She texted her nieces laughing emojis and lots of hearts, saying that she was “leading the life of Riley”.
A ceramic plate on Vi’s kitchen wall says, Enjoy Every Moment. Vi always found joy in her day and wished joy for all those around her. Consider her example when you face a challenge: Say yes! and take the leap.
** Special recognition to Angel Nurse Barb, who selflessly gave of herself, love and time to guide Violet through her last days of life. **
*As Violets friends and family can attest to, Violet was adamant about not having a service, but that doesn't mean she didn't want to be remembered. Please remember Violet with love, laughter, and random acts of kindness! Safe travel, hold onto your treasured memories of Vi, and pay it forward as she would.*
“Sometimes you just have to take the LEAP and build your wings on the way down!”—sign on Vi Konkel’s windowsill, handwritten by her.
Violet B. Konkel took her biggest leap yet when she left this world on September 10, 2021, after ninety-six years of building her wings.
Violet was born on August 7, 1925, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She was the middle child of ten children born to hardworking Sicilian immigrants, Sarah Rosaria and James Vincenzo DiPiazza. Growing up during the Great Depression, Vi and her siblings shared clothing, beds, and chores––and fun, which they made themselves.
Born under the self-confident sign of Leo, Vi had faith in her intelligence and her potential, as well as a gift for joy. When she had a nickel for streetcar fare, she often chose to spend it on a handful of fresh potato chips from Woolworths instead.
Young Vi wanted to share joy and ease the burdens of others (a quality she never lost). One summer morning, she woke in the dark and packed a breakfast picnic. She and her youngest brothers, Gabe (12) and Jim (10), walked three miles to the lakefront to watch the sun come up over Lake Michigan. A police car stopped to investigate three young people alone on the beach with a beer cooler. She showed the officer the contents of the cooler: pancake-making supplies.
Vi got her first paying job at sixteen, delivering telegrams during World War II. Most of her earnings went to help the family. With her share, she bought her first clothes of choice: a red skirt and jacket.
Vi had a flair for fashion. She taught herself to sew, and after she married Gilbert Konkel, she mastered complicated Vogue patterns. She and Gil, a professional musician, had played together in a quartet for several years before they married.
Now in her own house, she taught herself to cook well too. She loved to feed others. “Abundance!” she would later reply without hesitation, when asked what she believed in. “Not for me, but to share.” Family, neighbors, and friends would be the lucky recipients of Vi’s handmade pasta, pizzelles, biscotti shaped like S’s and O’s, and other goodies.
Vi had worked in offices but found more meaning as a volunteer, visiting stroke patients and teaching ESL in the Hmong community, among other engaging work. A succession of Dalmatian dogs––Bingo, Freckles, and Baron—were constant companions. Creative work was always underway too––college classes in design and psychology, and poetry writing.
And music. Vi had studied a variety of musical instruments, starting with the cello at ten. At fifty-five, she hired a young organist, Sheri Masiakowski, for lessons. The two became lifelong friends.
When Gil died at seventy-one, Vi thought her happy life might be over. Taking another leap, Vi began a new chapter of her life, moving to Greendale Village at resident Sheri’s invitation. Visits from Vi’s sister Addie and her nieces Francesca and Lucinda livened up the house.
The new friends she made became her Greendale family, and her neighbor Teri called Vi the Matriarch of Clover Lane. Vi’s new dog, Nicky, was beloved by many too.
As always, Vi activated her life philosophy: “Say yes!” She brought a lifetime of curiosity and creativity to the village. She loved working in Sheri’s home-decorations store, Seasons of the Heart, and Margo’s Village Boutique—making good friends every step of the way, including coworkers Pat, Mary Ellen, and many others.
In her eighties, Vi began to paint in acrylics and, at eighty-nine, she held her first art show. At ninety, she retired from work, but didn’t stop building new wings. She toured Wisconsin with her niece Roberta, who convinced her to buy her first iPhone. Vi took to texting like a digital native.
Always a book reader, Vi was well known by her local librarians and loved her friend Paula’s gifts of new titles.
Never one to get stuck in a rut, Vi took up knitting and yarn spinning. The local yarn shop, Wool and Cotton Co., featured a photo of her on their website, wearing the snazzy gray and red sweater she’d knitted. Through the shop she made new friends, including Gina and Martha. She also relished getting to know knitter Hui-Jun from Shanghai.
As Vi’s health dwindled this summer, her wings were no longer strong, but her friends lifted her up and carried her through her final days. Dick and Sheri provided rides, breakfast dates and culinary delicacies; Cindy brought laughter and foot care; Lance, who she called her “knight in shining armor”, brought bread from Vi’s favorite Italian bakery Scordato’s, fellow Sicilian Kim provided Italian meals, Mary Ellen, Pat, Mary R., Jean and others provided rides to doctor’s appointments, Andy, Steve, Jess, Steve and Chris gave Vi a joyous, social whirlwind in her last days.
So many people loved and cared for Vi, they can’t all be named—these are just a few this writer (niece Francesca) can name off the top of her head. Vi loved and appreciated every little act of friendship. Text, cards, and calls flowed in until the last, and Vi loved them all. Her final week was full of smiles. She texted her nieces laughing emojis and lots of hearts, saying that she was “leading the life of Riley”.
A ceramic plate on Vi’s kitchen wall says, Enjoy Every Moment. Vi always found joy in her day and wished joy for all those around her. Consider her example when you face a challenge: Say yes! and take the leap.
** Special recognition to Angel Nurse Barb, who selflessly gave of herself, love and time to guide Violet through her last days of life. **
*As Violets friends and family can attest to, Violet was adamant about not having a service, but that doesn't mean she didn't want to be remembered. Please remember Violet with love, laughter, and random acts of kindness! Safe travel, hold onto your treasured memories of Vi, and pay it forward as she would.*