FREDERICKTOWN – Ellen Divelbiss’s favorite color was blue.
It showed up in little pockets of her life. When she and Terry bought their first house, after raising their three boys in a two-bedroom apartment for 12 years while he started the family business, she wanted the kitchen countertops to be blue. So they were.
The family album continues the narrative. There’s Ellen, sunglasses on, posing in front of Saints Rest Beach at Irving Nature Park, one of Canada’s finest waterside retreats. She wears a long-sleeve, light blue shirt, which matches the purse that hangs from her neck. She’s smiling.
There she is again, this time with Terry by her side, standing with a group of friends in front of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Sunglasses on, smiling, sky blue stripes running across her shirt. Terry matches.
At her heart, Ellen was a listener and a teacher. She put others ahead of herself. Maybe that’s why her friends – some of whom knew her for decades – never knew.
“You know, we found out what her favorite color was because of this stack,” said Carma Jo Kauffman, motioning towards a particularly blue pile of fabric on a cold, mid-January day.
She smiled, her eyes lighting up through her thick-rimmed glasses, but only for a moment. The fabric is her only remaining connection to Ellen Divelbess, who died from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) in February 2018. She had battled the disease for over two years. She was 73.
On that 15-degree morning, Kauffman is not alone. She and two of her friends arrived in downtown Fredericktown just after 8 a.m. with loads of fabric, which they carried inside Aunt Ruth’s Attic – a unique goods store located on Main Street – and sorted into piles.
“Don’t we work like bees?” asks Louise Dudgeon, Ellen’s friend of 30-plus years.
Standing off to the side, a man with a thick mustache grins.
“You’re workin’ like the dickens,” he cracks, with the kind of sarcasm one would expect from Ellen Divelbiss’s husband.
“I’m here taking notes.”
Terry Divelbiss is more or less the overseer to the whole operation. He’s also one of the founders.
After Ellen passed away last winter, Terry went into Ellen’s quilting room. There were “huge amounts” of quilting materials, he said – fabric, backing, various cloth garments. The fabric, neatly organized, came in all sorts of colors, patterns and quantities. Ellen had devoted her life to quilting; this was what remained.
“Do you just give it away?” Terry recalled asking himself. “Well, there was too much to do that.”
Rather than throw the material out or take it to an auction, Terry had an idea: he would sell the fabric at a discount and donate all proceeds to charities Ellen would have supported.
He worked with Bill and Carol Van Nostrand, owners of Aunt Ruth’s Attic, to make it happen. The Van Nostrands agreed to lend one corner of their shop to the cause, and they would keep track of all transactions.
Terry called up Ellen’s quilting friends, and they were thrilled about the idea. They wanted to help.
In late October, they hauled in the first truckload of fabric. They sorted it by style and purpose on a set of metal racks at the north end of the store. They called it “Ellen’s Quilting Corner,” and placed a photo of their best friend above a print-out explaining her story.
Word got out quickly.
In the first two months, Bill Van Nostrand saw visitors from Loudonville, Bucyrus, Mansfield and Cleveland. Stories like this spread like wildfire in the tight-knit quilting community, Terry says; Kauffman comes from the Danville area and is a part of the Loudonville quilt guild, while Jeanne Davis, the third member of the group (and Fredericktown resident) belongs to the Mount Vernon quilt guild. They shared the idea with their friends, who passed it on.
By the time Christmas rolled around, seemingly all of north central Ohio knew about the little Fredericktown shop with the big story.
“It’s a great way to share what (Ellen) started,” said Dudgeon, “and we’re seeing it go in so many directions.”
***
In the fall of 2017, just months before Ellen passed, she was interviewed on camera by a representative from Fredericktown United Methodist Church.
She sat next to Terry in a power wheelchair, as ALS had taken her ability to walk at that point. The disease is crippling; over time, it wears away at nerve cells and prevents the body from performing basic motor functions, such as walking or swallowing.
ALS affects the body, but it doesn’t affect the mind. In the video, Ellen’s words seem to drag behind her thoughts. But she smiles, and laughs, and cracks jokes at her own expense. She recalls the night she was born, during a blizzard in Oberlin, OH.
“They had to take my mother out on the main road on a sleigh to get her to the hospital,” she said, laughing alongside Terry. “I know that makes me sound really old, but nothing was moving.”
Ellen grew up on a dairy farm in Lorain County. After receiving a bachelor’s degree in education from Ashland University, then attending the University of Northern Colorado and Ohio State University for her master’s, she had a choice: go to a school district in a bigger city where her position was uncertain, or go to Fredericktown, where she knew she would have a spot as a first-grade teacher.
“Even though it was less money, Fredericktown was an awful lot like the community I grew up in,” Ellen recalled in the UMC video, which is posted on YouTube under the title ‘ALS Testimony with Ellen Divelbiss.’
“I just felt more comfortable here than I did in a city. The two were larger cities, and I’m not a city girl.”
Six years later, Ellen had a student in her class named Randy. His mother was friends with the mother of a young engineer, who had just moved home to work after going to college in Indiana. He was an intelligent, dark-haired man with an entrepreneur’s ambition. They set Ellen up on a blind date.
13 weeks later, Terry and Ellen Divelbiss were married.
Terry started Divelbiss Corporation, which designs and manufactures electronic controls, a year after the wedding. Ellen taught first and second grade at Fredericktown for 11 years. She stopped teaching when the babies came; she and Terry had three boys, Don (43), David (40) and Daniel (37).
Over the years, Ellen’s passion for quilting grew. She started several quilting groups in Fredericktown, including Prayers and Squares, which still meets at Fredericktown United Methodist Church. The group makes lap quilts for the ill and shut-in, and also for baptisms. Ellen made sure it was open to all; she invited women from other churches and communities to join the mission.
She then started another group, which bears a long and ironic name: “The Monday Night Quilters of the Fredericktown United Methodist Church Who Meet at the Fredericktown Presbyterian Church on Tuesday Nights.” The group changed its name humorously when it moved to accommodate a woman who came from Columbus for the weekly meetings.
The way her friends describe it, Ellen’s quilting sessions were a sight to behold. She was the professor and her friends were her pupils, needle and thread in-hand, eager to learn. Ellen began sewing when she was little, and she’d sewn hundreds of quilts since. She was more than willing to pass on her expertise.
“Ellen, because of her teaching background, made it simple for us to learn,” Dudgeon said. “The first quilt we did, she came in with graph paper patterns for each one of us. And the instructions were clearly laid out – how to cut, what to cut, how to put it together – and we just learned so much.”
Dudgeon met Ellen at Fredericktown United Methodist Church back in the 80s; both of their kids were young, and they co-taught the fifth and sixth grade Sunday school class together. Dudgeon’s mother had always wanted to teach her how to quilt, but Louise never had time due to farming obligations and the growing distance between them (her parents relocated to Missouri). After Louise’s mother passed away, Ellen taught her how to hand-quilt.
Four years ago, Dudgeon pulled Kauffman into Ellen’s sewing circle. It was just a year before Ellen was diagnosed with ALS, but the two quickly became friends. Kauffman had been quilting for 40 years, she said, but Ellen still taught her something new every session.
“She was a great teacher. I mean, she was just a great teacher,” Kauffman recalled. “She could teach you something… you thought you knew everything and there was always something.”
When Ellen became sick, Kauffman swung by her house to take her to quilting sessions. The first thing to go was her balance; then her feet began to drag and her fingers became numb. She began having pain in her legs, and she fell several times. She kept plugging away, but she could tell her body was slowing down.
In November 2016, Ellen and Terry went on a cruise. Despite her deteriorating condition – which was still a bit of a mystery at that point – Ellen was determined to go. They packed her walker and made the trip work.
It was there, on that boat, when everything clicked for Ellen. She and Terry had settled in one night to watch ‘The Theory of Everything,’ a movie about famed physicist Stephen Hawking, which detailed his lifelong struggle with ALS. The film shows how Hawking’s condition progressed, beginning during his college days and lasting through his professional career. Ellen saw what Hawking went through and thought, “This looks familiar.”
She was diagnosed by a neurologist shortly thereafter.
“I think God probably guided me to that movie to prepare me for that diagnosis, because I wasn’t really surprised,” Ellen said in her video testimony. “I just thought that was probably what it was. I can’t say I was happy about it, but I was prepped.”
***
On a sunny afternoon in mid-March, Terry Divelbiss sat on a plush couch in Aunt Ruth’s Attic, his hands clasped in front of his chest. He recently moved his wedding ring – three diamonds for their three boys – over to his right hand. It glimmers in the light.
It’s hard for Terry to describe what the last year has been like. “There’s a hole,” he says. He rearranges his fingers, and the ring flashes once more.
Terry and Ellen were married for 45 years. They lived in Fredericktown their entire lives together, and they were active members of the community. Along with founding one of Fredericktown’s most prosperous businesses, Terry recently served as the chair of the Community Foundation for Mount Vernon and Knox County (now the Knox County Foundation). He is on the Knox County Board of Elections and has maintained an active role at Fredericktown United Methodist Church, as did Ellen.
When she wasn’t teaching or quilting, Ellen regularly volunteered for various community causes. She served as a 4-H advisor, a Cub Scout Den Mother, and an Odyssey of the Mind coach. She donated several award-winning quilts to local charities, clubs, and art shows (most commend Ellen for her “eye” in quilting, or her ability to piece fabric together beautifully, effortlessly. She had a gift, her friends say).
The two kept busy, but they still saved time for each other. Their bond was deep; in Ellen’s video testimony, the two sit side-by-side and regularly finish each other’s sentences without hesitation.
When Ellen became sick, Terry was there every step of the way.
“Terry’s been my backbone – and almost literally some days, when I can’t sit up straight. I say, ‘Push me up, Terry,’ and he’ll just give me a shove and straighten me up,” Ellen said in the video before breaking into laughter. Terry shook his head – how could someone in this condition be so humorous?
She composed herself…
“But I couldn’t have done this without him.”
Terry took Ellen to appointments – which, by the end, were frequent – and spent most days helping her perform basic tasks. He was determined to make her life as comfortable as possible.
When Ellen’s fingers and hands began to fail, and she could no longer push the rotary cutter that she used to slice fabric, Terry bought her a machine that would cut the fabric for her. When her legs began to fail, Terry raised Ellen’s sewing table so her wheelchair could fit under it.
She never gave up, and neither did he.
“He’s one person who definitely took the vows, ‘For better or worse, in sickness and in health,’ to heart,” Ellen said. “Because I don’t think anybody would sign up for this willingly, but he has.”
In Ellen’s final months, as her battle with ALS grew more intense, she and Terry were determined to make it to Dec. 30, 2017. It was the couple’s 45th wedding anniversary.
Sure enough, Ellen came through. The church held a special anniversary reception for them that night. All of Ellen’s friends were invited. It was a special evening, Terry recalls, and it “was probably the last big outing.”
On Feb. 19, less than two months later, Ellen passed away at the family home.
For the majority of Ellen’s 41-minute testimony, she was asked about her disease – when she was diagnosed, what it was like to live with it, what she wanted people to know about it. But for the majority of the video, Ellen is laughing.
The conversation is light-hearted and the humor is self-deprecating; she’s glad her grandson is a Star Wars fan, because the ALS has deepened her voice and now she says she sounds like Darth Vader; she “never liked to diet or exercise,” so this gives her an excuse not to; she can no longer sing, which is good news for anyone who feared she might rehearse at Carnegie Hall.
But at the end of the video, it’s Terry’s turn to talk. He talked about the sacrifices she made – they made – and the years they spent together. He talked about trust, and community, and loyalty. He talked about what it meant to spend 45 years with his best friend.
“She’s just a great lady,” he said. “The love of my life.”
For the first time in her 41-minute testimony, Ellen began to cry.
***
When Terry, Louise, Carma Jo and Jeanne started Ellen’s Corner, their goal was to sell 1,000 pieces of fabric. It was slightly arbitrary, Terry confesses – it was simply something to shoot for.
Six months in, that goal may have already been shattered.
Nearly $6,000 has been raised (and the fabric is being sold at one-third market value, Terry estimates). The donations have gone to ALS research, TouchPointe, and the FUMC Prayers and Squares club.
The group still hauls fabric into the shop every week; with the amount Ellen had collected over the years, Terry estimates the supply will last until the end of the year.
“I had no idea where we’d be,” Terry said of his expectations heading into the endeavor. “I didn’t know where we might end up, but I think it’s all good.”
While the story of Ellen’s Corner has spread far and wide, Terry wishes more were aware of the cause. The mission is two-fold, Terry says – raising money for worthy causes is important, but so is spreading the sense of community and love that Ellen fostered, one piece of fabric at time.
“The idea here is that we know this fabric’s going to quilters and that it’s going to end up in quilts,” Terry said. “So Ellen’s going to touch countless quilts out there with the fabric she’s selected.”
One of the walls in Ellen’s Corner is filled with pictures. Near the top, a sign says, ‘The Beginning of Ellen’s 1,000-Quilt Legacy.’ Terry has asked everyone who buys a piece of fabric from the shop to send in a picture with the finished product, so it can be posted on the wall.
There are pictures of all kinds of craft creations on the wall, held by people of all ages. There is a group of fifth and sixth graders from Newcomerstown who used scraps from Ellen’s collection to make Christmas stockings in December. Using that material, the caption reads, those girls learned how to sew.
“Her love went into every one of those quilts,” said Terry, pointing to the wall of photos. “And I think (Ellen’s friends) feel the same way about that.”
The same way quilting brought Ellen’s friends together, it’s kept them strong.
During Ellen’s final days, when everything had changed because of the disease, quilting remained. When Ellen could no longer walk, the club moved meetings to her house. In the final months, Ellen lost the ability to sew altogether, but the group came anyways.
Ellen continued to teach – she knew where every piece of fabric was in her quilting labyrinth, and she would direct her friends to certain pieces and start them on a design.
“She enjoyed it so much,” Terry said. “She wanted to keep doing it as long as she could.”
Now, the quilting organizations Ellen started live on.
Prayers and Squares still meets on a regular basis, and the group is intent on finishing some of the projects Ellen had started. Louise, Carma Jo and Jeanne have grown closer through Ellen’s Corner, and plan on continuing to meet once a week after all the inventory is sold.
Terry misses Ellen, but he wears his pain with dignity. He plans on becoming more involved with the ALS Association, possibly meeting with the local survivors group or participating in walks in the future.
At 71, he’s still the president of Divelbiss Corporation, and he says work has helped keep him on track. He’s also taken charge of the cabinetry portion of the renovation occurring at Fredericktown United Methodist Church. He likes working with his hands, he says, and is inviting other members of the congregation to do the same.
Terry and Ellen’s three sons have helped decide where donations from Ellen’s Corner will go. Two of the sons, Don and Dave, work at their father’s company. Terry and Ellen’s grandson, John, is a student at Fredericktown Local Schools. He’s working on a project in art class right now that involves little scraps of fabric, which were donated by a group of local women. They look forward to seeing what he creates.
Terry believes Ellen’s Corner has helped in the grieving process. He’s been able to put Ellen’s fabric to good use, and he’s learned a lot about his wife along the way – everyone who stops in has a story.
“She was always willing to help everybody, and that started to show up with various people she was in contact (with),” he said, smiling.
Through loss, Fredericktown has become stronger. The village now follows Ellen’s lead. In the face of ruthless adversity, she did not waver.
“I mean, you have a choice,” she said in her testimony. “You really do have a choice in how you live your life. And that’s what I intend to do, as long as I can, is to live my life. And it comes out of attitude.”
Ellen said that, before she was diagnosed, everything had fallen into place. She and Terry had paid off the house and gotten their sons through school. Terry had saved up a considerable amount of vacation time over the years, and this was their chance to travel, “while we still had our wits and our health.” But when the diagnosis came, everything changed.
“You’ve probably heard him say that life is what happens when you’re making other plans,” said Ellen, referring to FUMC Pastor Richard Hasley. “We had other plans.”
Nonetheless, Ellen remained positive. She said her spirituality helped guide her through tough times.
“I’m not afraid to die, but I’m not especially thrilled about what happens between now and that point,” Ellen said. “I know things are going to get more difficult, and harder for (Terry) to watch and me to put up with. Being trapped inside your body doesn’t sound like a very happy way to spend your day.
“But I know that God loves me, and he is walking beside me and leading the way. And it’s going to be better. It’ll have to get worse before it gets better, but it’s going to get better. And I’m grateful for that.”
On that frigid, mid-January morning, Dudgeon struggled to keep it together. She recalled Ellen’s final days and she wept. Thick tears fell onto her teal sweater.
The wound was still fresh – 11 months is far too little time to heal – and Dudgeon missed that laugh, that smile, that warmth.
She picked her head up.
Ellen lives on – in every sliver of fabric, every one-of-a-kind pattern, every quilt that has been made from her life’s collection. Her love is everywhere.
“One thing you learn from Ellen,” said Dudgeon, a smile forming on her face, “is you don’t ever throw anything away.”
How to get involved: Ellen’s Corner is open during regular Aunt Ruth’s Attic business hours, from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., Wednesday through Saturday. The shop is located at 167 North Main St. in Fredericktown, catty-cornered to the grain mill. Fabric is sold at one-third market value, and all proceeds go towards charitable causes.
