Jeanette Marie Stahlnecker

Jeanette Marie Stahlnecker passed January 29, 2026, from complications of a hip fracture. In her final days, she was in hospice care, resting quietly, with her daughter at bedside.

Jeanette Marie Gillham was born on December 2, 1938, at the beginning of  WWII, in a sleepy Midwest town called Grand Island in Nebraska. A largely rural area, Jan grew up in a town surrounded by prairie grasses.

Jan’s parents married and divorced twice; two children were born to the first marriage, and Jan, in the second go round. She was the baby.

Jan met Dick Stahlnecker in 1955. Jan was a teenager working at a new place in Grand Island called a Drive-In. Their relationship started when Dick flirted with Jan by leaving her tip in the bottom of a water glass; Jan ignored him. This Laurel and Hardy act continued throughout their marriage. Dick would try to make Jan laugh, by any means, only to be ignored or met with a blank stare… it was poetry in motion - a love match that lasted until Dick passed in 2014.

They married in 1956. Dick was drafted shortly thereafter, landing in the Panama Canal Zone. Pregnant, Jan followed her new husband to a place very different than Grand Island. Jan went into labor at a time when Panama had declared Marshal Law. Gun fire could be heard from beyond the base hospital. Fortunately, they gave her a healthy dose of gas, as was the custom at the time, and she slept through most of it.

Jan was not enthralled with her new address. After she had the first of their two children, she returned stateside as soon as possible. She sought the comfort and safety of her hometown – and the absence of native critters the size of Volkswagens.

The couple settled in Lincoln, Nebraska. A product of their generation, Jan stayed home and tended to preschoolers, Laurie and Jeff, while Dick rolled up his shirt sleeves and went to work. Later, sharing one car, Jan went to work nights at a local hospital as an aide. They never missed a day of work. They lived on only the money earned, no credit. In this way, they missed Elvis, the Beatles, and most of the 60s as they never had a working television.

As the kids grew, Jan branched out and became a small business owner. First with DJs Unfinished Furniture, then a children’s consignment store: The Merry Go Round. Although these businesses didn’t set the world on fire, they provided enough money to buy new cars and take trips.

In the morning before work, Jan could always be found at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and applying a touchup to her fingernail polish. Jan read the newspaper from front to back, seven days a week – her entire life. After she finished, she folded the paper 

and tucked it into her chair cushion so she could work on the New York Times Crossword puzzle throughout the day.

From early adulthood, Jan was hooked on bridge. Over the years she played all kinds of bridge, with all kinds of people. In recent years, she and five bridge-playing strangers met and formed a bridge club. They met every Wednesday for the past ten years. Although there are unforgiving rules often applied to bridge, Jan and the bridge posse played by their own rules. They called it bridge, but they often went to lunch – are margaritas part of bridge scoring? I don’t play.

Jan enjoyed Las Vegas; the real Vegas, the old strip. She didn’t have a gambling problem, she had a gambling strategy, which she regularly employed to beat the odds. Like those mouthwatering cinnamon rolls Grandma never left the recipe for, Jan never shared her strategy with anyone, leaving family and friends relegated to the penny slots.

Jan and Dick retired in 2000 and moved to West Des Moines, Iowa, to be closer to their daughter and grandkids. Jan lived another life in West Des Moines working at a local family campground part-time, which she loved. Jan and Dick bought property in McAllen, Texas, and wintered there for ten years.

In McAllen, there was no shortage of activities, and Jan and Dick fearlessly jumped in. Having never played golf, Jan quickly learned and became a founding member of the Annual Golf Tournament: the Sandwich Classic. She spearheaded a fashion show, arranging for classic cars as a backdrop. Jan and Dick started Beer and Brats night at the end of the season where everyone could meet up and say goodbye till next year. Their street was always jammed with golf carts, a testament to its success.

Jan may be best remembered in McAllen for her role as master of ceremonies. Every Friday night the entire park would gather at the club house for potluck. Jan took to the podium and shared park news,  watered-down gossip, and golf scores. Then she told jokes. Typically, her jokes eked by the self-appointed censors – some in attendance roared, others grinned. She often got a call from someone the next day with an issue with a joke, which she took in stride. She figured if only one person called, and 249 people did not – it was a success. She also organized ridiculous  skits that brought down the house.

When Dick passed in 2014, Jan stopped going to McAllen. And the McAllen MC jokester was never seen again. But she left enduring memories for many.

Although Jan did not lead a glamorous or extravagant life, she derived joy and satisfaction from her everyday work, play, and family. She preferred to look at the positive side of life. She took on hardship unflinchingly and with a healthy sense of  perspective and humor.

Jan leaves behind a daughter, three grandchildren, four great-grandchildren and a niece. She was predeceased by her parents, husband, son, and a great-granddaughter.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions can be made to Suncrest Hospice in Jan's honor.

A private service is planned for a future date.