Maxine Wicks

Maxine Therese Carrico Wicks, the sixth of eight children of Melvin and Cecilia (Knaup) Carrico, was born July 27, 1929, in Beloit, Kansas, and died Tuesday, July 16, 2024, at the Nebraska P.E.O. Home in Beatrice, Nebraska, at the age of 94 years.

Maxine met Delmar Laverne Wicks at The Beloit Daily Call newspaper office where she worked part-time during her senior year of high school, and he was a writer and advertising salesman. After graduating from St. John's High School in 1947 and attending Marymount College in Salina for one year, the couple married in St. John's Catholic Church in Beloit on Monday, November 8, 1948, and to this union eight children were born: James Lee, Stephen Lynn, Robert Joseph, Michael Alan, John Patrick, Mary Elizabeth, Judith Ann, and Thomas Dean.

Del later was offered a position at the Sutton, Nebr., newspaper, and the Wicks family journeyed to Sutton with their two oldest children, and Bob arrived while they resided there. They remained in Sutton until Del was offered part ownership in The Daily Call along with Alan Houghton, and the Wickses relocated back "home" to Beloit where their five youngest children were born. The couple sold their share of the business to Alan and moved to Deshler, Nebr., in 1969, where Maxine joined Del in the printing and newspaper business, The Deshler Rustler. Maxine's column, "Maxine's Minis" reported weekly on the exploits of the family's children, much to their chagrin, but was universally lauded by the community for its relatable humor.

While Maxine worked full time, she also served her community as a member of the Deshler school board, Thayer County Quarter Horse Racing Association board, and American Legion Auxiliary. She was also an avid bridge player and attended all of the children's school activities. A thoughtful listener and communicator, she never failed to have a 30-cup coffee pot ready for company, whether it was an 80-year-old neighbor lady or a 30-year-old coach knocking at the door. She taught her family that age is never a barrier to friendship.

In the face of Del's declining health, sons Steve and Bob joined their parents in The Rustler's news and job printing businesses. After Del's death in 1982, Maxine and her sons continued to operate The Rustler for several years, later selling the business and Maxine moving to Bennet, Nebr., in 1986. She worked for a phone directory company and later for Midwest Web Printing and Direct Mail in Lincoln, Nebr., from which she retired in 2006. Maxine continued community involvement in Bennet, serving several years as president of the local American Legion Auxiliary as well as holding active memberships with the Bennet Builders and Bennet Foundation organizations. She continued to enjoy card clubs and Senior Diners activities. She was a member of Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Hebron, Nebr., and later St. Michael Catholic Church in Lincoln, Nebr.

Maxine became a resident of the Nebraska P.E.O. Home in Beatrice, Nebr., in October 2023.

She was preceded in death by her parents, her beloved husband, Delmar; two sons, Jim in 2005 and Bob in 2023; infant brother, James; siblings and their spouses, Albertine (Felix) Konzem, Cecilia (Joe) Ludwig, Virginia (Bill) Lichtenberger, Joseph (Vivian) Carrico, and Carol (Louis) Moritz; brother-in-law and spouse, Lynn (Dorothy) Wicks.

Survivors include four sons: Steve, Mike, and Tom Wicks, all of Bennet, Nebr.; Pat (Jeanne) Wicks of Lincoln, Nebr.; two daughters, Mary Strnad of Hanover, Kans., and Judy (Mike) Steckelberg of Sioux Falls, S.D.; daughter-in-law, Dee Wicks of Council Bluffs, Ia.;14 grandchildren: Jamie Fritz, Tyson and Kale Wicks, Mindy Sandvick, Nate Wicks, Jenny Dorland, Gabriel Strnad, Shane, Shannon, Matthew, Alayna, Jacob, Katelyn, and Andrew Steckelberg; 16 great-grandchildren; one sister, Janet (Dan) Sparks of Salina, Kans.; numerous nieces and nephews.

A rosary service will be held at 7:00 p.m. Friday, July 19, at Roberts Funeral Home, visitation with the family beginning at 6:00 p.m. Funeral services are scheduled for 10:00 a.m. Saturday, July 20, 2024, at St. John's Catholic Church in Beloit, with Fr. Andrew Rockers officiating. Interment will follow the Mass in St. John's Catholic Cemetery in Beloit.

Memorials will be designated to the Nebraska P.E.O. Home, 413 N. 5th St., Beatrice, Nebraska 68310.

Memories of Mom
According to Maxine's family, there are no William Jennings Bryans hidden in their genetic DNA, so they have asked us if we would be willing to speak on their behalf [and we have willingly accepted this request].

The Wicks Children Write:

We have never been a wealthy family, yet because of our mother (and our father), riches came in unique forms. We became rich in family bonds, in strength of character, in solidarity, in communicating (NOT public speaking), in recognizing the importance of education or at least of knowledge, and in sharing our hearts and our sense of humor with others because these were necessary for transforming our ten-member unit into a strong "family" community. We were loved, and we never doubted it. Every day our parents modeled how we should behave, and what was acceptable because right was right, and wrong was out of the question.

Much of this philosophy of life's true tenets came directly from the Carrico family branch. When we'd gather on Sundays for dinner, the cousins found common ground in Grandma and Grandpa's basement. We played endlessly while Mom and her sisters (and Joe when he was home—a major event to be sure) gathered in the kitchen to discuss what adults discuss—we didn't know what that was because we were only children, you see, and the Internet had not yet melted our brains into quagmires of political and societal mush.

Our "family" was not limited to the Carricos, however. Mom made sure we had a loving relationship with the Wicks side as well. She adored Grandpa Ralph and Grandma Ethel and later Grandma Vi and through them grew a sibling bond with Uncle Lynn and Aunt Dot, and the same between their children.

Mom was truly a strong woman who encountered many of life's obstacles, yet she always rebounded with a remarkably positive attitude. As a child, she and her brother Joe were riding Babe on the Carrico farm when the horse hit its nose on a tractor lug, reared up, and dropped on top of both children. Mom was severely injured, the horse's saddle horn crushing her face, and she later underwent major reconstructive surgery, unheard of at that time.

As she and Dad's family began to grow, the couple also faced a blood disorder known as the "Rh factor." Many of their children were born prematurely and only survived through blood transfusions and exchanges. Mom devoted hundreds of hours over the years sitting at various hospitals before she could take her tiny babies home where she used droppers for bottles.

Mom also experienced the traumatic loss of her adoring husband Delmar when he was only 60 and she 52, yet she was responsible for carrying on the publication of The Rustler with Bob and Steve's assistance. The deaths of two sons, Jim and Bob, were also extremely difficult episodes of her life.

Her strength was derived not only from an unending faith in God but also from a community of "family," the cornerstone of small-town life. Beloit, Deshler, and Bennet offered that in spades, and in each community, she was a motivator, a leader, a willing and generous participant.

Her positivity and loving personality are also remembered by many. Even the sympathetic notes we have received since her death this week indicate this, a reminder of the importance of being a part of something bigger than oneself:

A friend of the Wicks "boys" wrote, "She was such a great lady. I really loved her. She was the source of the sense of humor that all of the Wicks kids had. We will all miss her very much."

Deshler-ites were especially kind in their comments:

"Loved her so much. No one could pull you out of a 'funk' like she could."

Another noted, "Your parents were parenting a few of us. They made a difference."

And finally, "Your mom and dad played a big part in my growing up years, as well as for many other Deshler-ites in their publication of the Deshler newspaper."

A former Deshler teacher commented, "What a beautiful lady. I feel privileged to have known her."

One family member called her a "beautiful soul," and another noted, "We were so blessed to have her as a major part of our lives. We'll mourn her, but there is no doubt there is much joy in her reunion with Del, her boys, parents, and siblings." And finally, a niece added, "She was such a bright star, shining in our big, crazy family, and I miss her already."

These are only a few of the hundreds of messages our family has received to tell us what we already knew: Mom was special and loved.

Even Rita Thompson mentioned that those she called to donate salads and desserts for tomorrow's luncheon were familiar with or remembered Mom although the Wickses moved from Beloit in 1969.

Here are a few of the great things we remember about Mom:

·       When we'd come home, there was always someone else there. She loved to host. It could be a 30-year-old coach or an 85-year-old neighbor. We learned early that age is never a barrier to friendship.

·       Our mom was never upset if we brought someone home unexpectedly for dinner. She always made plenty, and if there wasn't plenty of what she originally planned to make she always had five pounds of hamburger on hand that she would just keep making till everyone was full. Our mom made THE best hamburgers.

·       While growing up the only derogatory word Pat ever heard mom say about his dad was when Dad ended up taking all the sets of car keys. She said, "Well, THAT wasn't very considerate". Man, what a lambasting that was. Pat sure wishes that was the worst his wife ever spoke of him.

·         Christmas was the big event in the Wicks house. Each Christmas morning, under the tree was a pile of presents and each one had to be wrapped no matter how large or small. Giving was a joy to my parents even though they'd be paying for it till the next Christmas.

Through good times and lesser good times, Mom always exhibited a sense of humor. Life didn't always have to be serious. She could dish it out but also take it. At Mom's retirement party from Midwest Web, Pat had the opportunity to roast her. The following remarks are from that roast:

"When my folks had the newspaper in Deshler, my mom would write a column titled "Maxine's Minis". Each week she would lay bare our family's blunders. Nothing was sacred to her. Mike's infamous first day with his license, trying to show off by goosing the gas in front of a few girls, jumping the curb then plowing through some prize-winning flowers in the middle of someone's lawn. (As a side note on this incident, it's somewhat surprising that Mike claimed that this really showed how good of a driver he was because he managed to drive 40 mph between 2 big trees with only inches to spare on each side while leaving the lawn). She wrote about Steve coming downstairs wearing 1 tennis shoe and 1 dress shoe — only then realizing why he was making a noise only every other step; and for Pat it was the almost weekly medical reports detailing what he had sprained, bruised or broken or what sharp metal object he had unintentionally though forcefully imbedded into his body. These were all just fodder for her 'wicked, wicked heart.' Swear to God, the woman was no saint,"  Pat joked.

"Not only could she tell a good story," Pat continued, "Mom has always been a great cook. However, there was that period that she first began to dabble with the new space-age modern conveniences and prefab meals. Unfortunately for us, those glimpses into the future weren't quite perfected when Mom went in whole hog. In our early childhood, we thought that all TV dinners were supposed to look and taste like a charcoal briquette no matter what the meat started as. By the way, this is the way Bob preferred his meat cooked even as an adult. As soon as we got our first microwave oven and even before she quite got the gist of it, the words roast, bake and broil had completely left our vocabulary and were replaced by one word: incinerate. During this period the only true chef in our house was named Boyardee. But as you can see, somehow a few of us at least managed to grow to a pretty good size despite this period we call The Blackened Years."

Despite the occasional hiccup, each of us, her children, believes our mother should be canonized. In our minds, she truly was a saint. Dad was the luckiest man alive, and he was well aware of his good fortune, as were we—every day of our lives.