Nan Vincent Nelson

This earthly plane lost a one-of-a-kind human on Wednesday, July 3, 2024. Nancy Ann Vincent Nelson, 74, of Beaumont, died peacefully at her home. She was born September 17, 1949, in Beaumont, to Nancy Belt Vincent and Owen Bruce Vincent. Survivors include her husband, John Nelson of Beaumont; daughter, Erin Conway Galloway of Beaumont; son, Tim Conway of Beaumont; grandson, Jonathan (J.T.) Galloway and his bride-elect, Shelby Porter of Beaumont; brother, Bruce Vincent and his wife, Kathy of Lakewood, Colorado; sister, René Tyo and her husband, Steve of Frametown, West Virginia; and numerous nephews and nieces.  

Nan was a spectacular writer though mostly non-published.  Lists, to dos, to message, honey dos. Although she miraculously checked off the majority of her lists before her passing, the one task left undone was her obituary. So, Mom you are stuck with what I can produce.    

Nan, a boomer, in every sense of the word, did things her own way: no rules, no boundaries. Her early years, painted with the movements of civil rights, women’s rights, and flipping off cultural norms, became the jumping off platform for her adult years.

She gave birth to a most excellent daughter and cohort and soon added a son (he’s pretty excellent too.) With two of the world’s most spectacular kids in-tow, she obtained her Masters in Social Work from University of Houston while simultaneously teaching there. She taught at Monsignor Kelly High School and directed the children’s nursery there. Before starting her own private practice of 15 years, Nan also worked for Family Services and Land Manor. If her plate wasn’t full enough, she also wrote a family lifestyles weekly column in the Beaumont Enterprise.  In 1982, she published these columns in a book, Let the Sunbeams Through.  After a brief stint at Christus St. Elizabeth Hospital as a social worker/patient advocate, her father became gravely ill.  Nan, ever the learner and helper, obtained her RN certification to care for him and eventually her mother with Alzheimer’s. She worked as a contractor RN for home health services to make ends meet. 

Nan took on the challenge of reigniting the spirit of Lamar University’s St. Matthews Episcopal Chapel. As Lay Chaplain, for nearly 5 years, Nan directed this small but mighty effort that guided students as well as neighborhood youth and elderly, assisted with prison ministries and spawned Bible studies. Under her direction, Nan welcomed international students/faculty, disabled persons, and other isolated citizens: reaching out to those who needed help the most.  Nan used this momentum to revitalize a fading neighborhood with a medical clinic and social outreach center, Ubi Caritas. 

Nan‘s dedication to help disadvantaged social groups led her to final gainful employment with Lamar University (her alma mater) where she worked as a liaison in the International Student Services department. Here, she welcomed students from all over the world, helping them navigate and acclimate to her hometown, of which she was so proud and familiar.

After a series of illnesses, Nan was forced to retire in 2014.  Her diagnosis…Parkinson’s Disease.  Mom wouldn’t want me to dwell on her health struggles, but they were what you’d expect from an aging woman with advanced Parkinson’s. She impressed me, and those around her, with her strength and dignity. Mom became a warrior and my hero. She was a private woman: rarely openly sharing the most challenging struggles we witnessed daily. She fought on her terms and completed her list of delegations, notes to those closest and tidying up. No pomp and circumstance.  Nan left the party quietly.  

Career and professional compliments declared, now it’s time for the nitty-gritty stuff of her essence. Nan was married to the love of her life, John, in December 1988. They finished each other sentences, accomplishments, mistakes and meals: although honestly Nan wasn’t as much of a cook as an experimenter. Heaven love her, I remember meals where we’d smile and eke out “well, that’s a new one.”  She did expertly cook the annual family tradition of fruitcakes.  If you weren’t a fruitcake fan before one of these finely prepared beauties, you missed out! Yet, making them with her was half the fun.

As mentioned earlier, Nan had two spectacular children. Consistently, Mom would take time off from her schedule to grab a bag of groceries or fill our cars with gas (just little things to show she wanted to help) even after we were grown.

Then came J.T., her one and only grandchild and “co-cohort” in life’s shenanigans. To J.T., Mom was Grandma Wiggles which became Wigs for short.  Together they found Blue’s Clues, made “treasure cakes“(stacks of Mardi Gras beads) as pirates, rescued the neighbors by helping to relocate the wild, invisible crocodiles in the backyard yelling “Crikey that’s a big ‘un!“

She craved learning. I know she’s having all of her questions answered now.  Nan was a woman of keen talents unbeknownst to most. Nan loved to sew. During Covid, she handmade masks for her doctors and staff.  She had a weaving loom, desiring to learn how fabric was made.  Nan was an avid reader. Amazon will miss her late night orders of books. She was a musician; playing cello, piano, harp, dulcimer, kazoo as well as accentuating music with fart noises with her mouth.  She sang like an angel.  She traveled.  Explored other religions to better comprehend. She butt-danced in the car better than anyone I’ve known. Mom could tell the best jokes: acting them out and using inflected voices. She gardened with great optimism.  Swam like a fish. Cared for puppies, squirrels, snakes (thanks J.T.) and raised butterflies with John.  I find it necessary to apologize to owners of cats who may be missing a cat or two.  When Nan was younger, I was 6-10ish years old, she would see a cat sauntering by. She often believed the wayward feline was in need of help or home. So, she brought it home never realizing the helpless creature was just on its daily jaunt in the neighborhood and most likely had an adoring family waiting for Puff’s return. 

In Nan’s life, we were all stray cats.  Sometimes unable to vocalize our own needs. Needing a home.  Needing guidance.  Needing comfort.  Needing love.  Nan had a way of figuring out and helping before we even knew to ask. Truly one of the most difficult things she endured in the end was the loss of this ability to help others. 

Now it’s time for us to hold her memories close.  To share them. To continue her works. To complete the lists, she left with each of us either in word or inspiration.  Listen to each other.  Put others first.  Use our gifts to do better in the world.  Share. Give. Love. 

Thank you to Dr. Maria Blahey and her staff, Pulse Home Healthcare, Intrepid Hospice, and the many friends who checked in, sending prayers. Thank you also to those who were unaware of her illness and passing until now.  You helped sculpt this woman into the cherished memory we have today.  

Memorial contributions may be made to Humane Society of Southeast Texas, 2050 Spindletop Avenue, Beaumont, Texas 77705.

A gathering of Nan’s family and friends will begin at 10:00 a.m., with her memorial service to follow at 11:30 a.m., Wednesday July 17, 2024, at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, 680 Calder Avenue, Beaumont, under the direction of Broussard’s, 2000 McFaddin Avenue, Beaumont.