Her classmates can count on Fran and her devilish grin. So can staffers at the Kroc Center — the front desk personnel, groundskeepers, gym employees. As Frances makes her way to and from her class, she tells each of them to “behave,” either before or after they’ve shared a warm hug.
“Frances is spunky and is quite the independent lady,” said instructor Karla Brun, who keeps the class entertained with music and laughter as well as physical and mental challenges. “More than anyone else who attends my classes, she always expresses gratitude for my instruction. I appreciate her caring nature, not only for me but for others in the class.“
Among those “others” are Wanda McNeal and her sister, who met Frances when they joined the Kroc Center 2 years ago.
“Even though Ms. Frances is approximately 27 years older than me, sometimes she has more energy than I do,” McNeal said. “I always sit behind her to make sure I’m doing the correct moves.”
Fran says she has aches and pains, but knows it’s important to keep attending the classes.
“I go to yoga complaining and leave feeling good,” she said.
McNeal looks forward to seeing both Frances and her sidekicks each week.
“I am so impressed that her two daughters, who both live out of the state, take turns coming to Ohio to stay with their mom and bring her to class,” said McNeal. “And her son and daughter-in-law who live here also frequently attend as well.”
Looking out for Mother
In 2021, when Fran’s husband, Ron, was in the final stages of Parkinson’s disease, daughters Carrie — who lives in Half Moon Bay, California and Isla Mujeres, Mexico — and Lisa — who lives in New York City — began trading off monthly visits to Dayton to help out.
“After our father died, we weren’t just going to say ‘Goodbye, Mother,’” said Carrie. “On his deathbed my father said ‘Take care of your mother.’”
The sisters took that promise to heart and decided they would alternate living in Dayton with their mother every two months.
While the outspoken Frances admits she doesn’t necessarily always like everything her grownup children do when they come to town, she tries to bite her tongue and remind herself how grateful she is for their devotion.
“After all, they’ve been away for many years and have their own way of living,” she said. “When they come back, they cook, they drive me around and they never complain.”
Lisa said her mother likes things done certain ways.
“She taught us there was a right and wrong way to do everything,” she said.
Frances has always loved cats, so her children also help care for her three indoor cats, Buster, Happy and Kiki, and her two outdoor cats, known as the Sammies. Frances also regularly feeds neighborhood strays and finances Trap, Neuter, Release (TNR) projects.
Carrie, who is a painter and jewelry maker, also manages a yoga and art center. She said she and her two siblings left home before the age of 18.
“Mother encouraged us to be independent. She never pressed us to get married or to have kids.”
Frances has always been active, and continues to be.
“I don’t scuba dive anymore, but I still garden,” she said. “I just bought a transplanting shovel. I was trying to learn Russian and didn’t get very far. We really laughed a lot.”
“Her mind is just amazing,” said Carrie. “You can’t trick her. And she’s obsessed with politics.”
Looking back
Frances says she’s lived “a crazy life.” Born in Akron, she considered a career in journalism, attending Wilmington College and Kent State University. At age 21, she married and the Hollisters moved to Orchard Park, New York where they raised their three children.
When her husband headed to New York City for two years to get his PhD, Frances remained in Orchard Park as a single parent caring for three young children. It wasn’t easy.
“There was no one to help me when the septic tank backed up,” Frances said. “You managed quite a lot when we were kids, from housework to yard work and office work,” wrote daughter Carrie in an appreciative birthday letter.
“You kept the house clean, the pets and kids fed, the driveway shoveled and the bills paid, all with a new litter of kittens underfoot every six months or so. Every now and then you would say ‘I’m going to have Tiny spayed’ and we kids would say ‘nooo… don’t.’ It was one of the few times we were allowed to protest and win. Actually, there were other occasions when you let me make a bad decision."
Later, when the family moved to Lockport, New York, Frances worked as her husband’s office manager in his private psychology practice.
The 1980s and 1990s were traveling years for the Hollisters. Frances learned Spanish, became scuba certified and took dive trips to Belize, Honduras, Mexico and Bonaire and took a boat trip down the Amazon. She and her husband bought a house on on island in Mexico, and began wintering there.
“We didn’t always have a telephone,” Frances said. " The neighbors on our street were Mayan people."
In 1999, while still heading for Mexico in the cold months, Frances and Ron moved to Riverside to be closer to son Craig and his wife, Yolanda, who live in Fairborn. After serving out his four-year active duty term, Craig is now semi-retired and works part-time in the Kettering City School system.
Expressing appreciation
When Frances turned 80, each of her children wrote a “Dear Mother” letter. “I teared up when I read them,” said Fran.
They shared some excerpts:
From son Craig:
• “I remember you teaching me the names of the birds: Cardinal, Blue Jay, Robin. This was in a coloring book or maybe it was early school homework. You helped me get the colors right on paper, especially the Red-winged Blackbird, wide red stripe over narrow yellow, not the other way round.”
• “I don’t think you approved of the motorcycle. I wore a helmet of course. Showing your practical side, you bought me a heavy leather jacket for protection. It gave me style and safety.”
• “I checked my Social Security record and the buckets for 1982 and 1984 were the emptiest ones, $528 and $6165 respectively. You sent me a hundred dollar a month stipend as I struggled through the final years of college. I got rebate checks for purchases I never made – you had signed me up for them. I cashed every one. The mental part of the struggle for me was worse of course than the financial one. You sent me annotated newspaper clippings to maintain contact. I knew you were thinking of me in between the weekly Sunday phone calls.“
Daughter Lisa Lloyd, a retired New York City elementary school teacher, detailed these lessons she’d learned from her mom:
- Wait your turn.
- Keep the box. “I still can’t throw away a box without keeping it in the closet for a month, just in case.”
- Recycle. “You were ahead of your time, you had us pounding cans with a sledgehammer in the garage.”
- Clothes should be dried outside on the line. "I remember Carrie and I carrying that big wicker basket out to the clothesline. I remember the wooden clothespins and you showing us just how to hang shirts, socks and towels. "
- Just relax and you can float. ”In your flowered bathing cap, you taught me to float on my back."
- How to sew.
- How to cook. “Whatever I made you acted like it was the best ever. Your birthday cakes were absolutely magical.”
- How to knit and crochet. “You made exquisite couture outfits for our Barbie dolls.”
- How to clean. “Vinegar on newspaper for windows, baking soda for the fridge. Make the bed with hospital corners. You taught us how to fold fitted sheets.”
“A mother’s influence can’t be seen or measured,” wrote Lisa. “The things you taught me, the sound of your voice, runs through me with my students and with Dylan when I became a mom myself.”
Fran’s advice on mothering? “Stay out of their business. If something is going on in their life, they have to make their own mistakes and deal with them.”
Daughter Carrie praised her mother for her “strong will and courageous spirit.”
“Mother, you are no sissy girl that’s for sure,” she wrote. “I remember you collecting peat moss from behind the Palmer’s house. What in the world were you dong with peat moss, Mother? Other moms were not out digging up peat moss, but you were. And compost, too.
“You were ahead of your time. Tossing the coffee filters out the back of the house on Isla you were determined to enrich the soil of a coral island!
“And yet despite your earthy tendencies, you have a real style flair and high taste level. The simple statement of your Isla house, painted white as others around you chose pink and blue. The pheasant drapes and your old couch recovered in a plush green velvet... it would still look good today. Your purple sparkly accordion pleated dress, Dior sunglasses, and the beach hat with the little inset shades. Even your choice in ‘boyfriends’ was classic. While other women admired Robert Redford or Paul Newman, you blew kisses to (newscaster) Frank Reynolds.
“You’re a complex character, Mother. This is revealed in the articles you clip from newspapers with the names of drug lords underlined in your fine pencil line and notes in the margin in your beautiful script. Even the husband you chose proves you are not a simple lady. ”
“I will hear your voice over my shoulder for all my remaining years in the Isla (Mexico) house... it will be like the ocean and the wind... just a part of life there. I hope these next years are filled with all the things you enjoy doing.”
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