On Nov. 11, Kingston lost a little piece of itself with the passing of native daughter Lucille Weisenberger. If you grew up in the north end of Kitsap County in the 1940s through the early 1970s, chances are you knew her, though for many of us she was simply Mrs. Weisenberger.

That’s because for 35 years she worked at local schools — primarily Wolfle Elementary — first as a teacher, then as librarian. Prior to that she’d taught at Little Boston, Poulsbo and Kingston’s Old Schoolhouse, which was the new schoolhouse when she attended it herself as a girl growing up in Hansville.

Mrs. Weisenberger was beloved for her patience and kindness. Although I came to Wolfle after she’d retired from the classroom, I was blessed to know her as the school librarian.

My first memory of Mrs. Weisenberger was as a savior. You see, I started Wolfle as an awkward 9-year-old, and by “awkward” I mean the kind of kid who trips into the nastiest harpy of a teacher ever to walk the halls on her (my) first week at school. Mrs. Weisenberger gently removed me from the clutches of the wild-eyed woman who was intent on shaking some coordination into me (those were the days!) and earned my undying affection.

Over the next three years, I spent many rainy recesses hanging out in Mrs. Weisenberger’s library where the welcome was warm and the books were full of magic. I came to love reading. Now I write. Just saying.

In the summer of 2004, I interviewed Mrs. Weisenberger beneath her 50-year-old mock orange, abuzz with honeybees. Even in her 80s, Mrs. Weisenberger rattled off names and dates as though the last half century never happened.

From her days as a student at the Kingston Schoolhouse she recalled Mr. Diggerness whom all the girls had a crush on and Mr. Page who had narcolepsy (to the delight of his students, no doubt). She recalled the challenges of teaching at the schoolhouse, including a 1949 earthquake that left cracks in the ceiling plaster.

In 1922, Lucille’s parents, Charles and Mary Jellesma, came to Kingston when their daughter was barely 18 months old. The reason was simple: Her mom thought South Dakota had too many rattlesnakes.

The family soon moved to the rattlesnake-free Collins Farm (now Irish Acres, one mile from George’s Corners on the Hansville Highway) to manage “Grandpa” Collins’ holdings. Warren Jefferson Collins, a former Texas Ranger and Indian Scout, was an authentic Kingston pioneer who settled in the area in the late 1800s, before the town was even platted.

On the farm, Weisenberger and her parents raised strawberries, pears, dairy cattle, pigs and chickens. An experiment as sheep herders came to an abrupt end when a bear killed the flock. For the first 10 years, life on the farm did not include electricity or running water. Lanterns, outhouses and horse-drawn farm carts were the order of the day.

“Trips to Kingston were by horse and wagon and took most of a day,” Weisenberger reminisced. “Poulsbo was a once-a-year excursion.”

Being the Depression years, nothing was wasted. Food was plain and included head cheese, a thrifty use of butchering leftovers having very little to do with cheese. Tax money was earned by digging clams.

“People will never know how nice it was to grow up in Kingston in those days,” she said. “Before the marina was built the water there would warm up as the tide came in and it was a favorite swimming spot. The old ferry dock was very narrow. It made me nervous when I had to drive on it because you could see people fishing under it through the knotholes.”

Perhaps Weisenberger’s fondest memories are of the parties and dances held at the town’s grange halls.

“We had lots of plays and, during the war, the dances drew servicemen from as far away as Seattle,” she said. “There were lots of parties for the schoolchildren. At Halloween we’d get a bag of nuts, ribbon candy and an orange. In those days, oranges were a treat.”

Weisenberger credits her interest in teaching to growing up as an only child on a remote farm. She loved school. Dolls and teddy bears were her first students.

She graduated from North Kitsap High School in 1939. Upon receiving her teaching certificate from Western Washington University she took her first teaching job in 1942, at the start of the Second World War. For 20 years she taught grades one through five, then spent an additional 15 years as the Wolfle librarian.

In fact, the hardest part of her career, she said, was giving it up.

“In a way, retirement was awful. I missed the kids. It was hard to adjust to adults,” she smiled.

Even in her 80s, Kingston’s most enduring teacher taught still, though her lessons were now delivered at Kingston Historic Society meetings. In 1990 she composed a who’s who of the town’s early citizens entitled “Memories of the Pioneers,” which was included in Harold Osborne’s history of Kingston, “Little City by the Sea.”

Although several years have passed since Mrs. Weisenberger walked from her downtown Kingston home to the post office with her adopted dog Willie, she’ll always be part of our town.

Happy trails, Mrs. Weisenberger. You were a bright soul. For many of us you’re more than a fond memory. You’re part of our story.