Ida Kerr Lofting, age 94, of West Grove, PA, died Thursday, December 31, 2009, at Neighborhood Hospice, in West Chester, PA. She was the wife of the late Colin MacMahon Lofting, who died in 1997 and with whom she shared 58 years of marriage.

Born in Moylan, PA, she was the daughter of James Renwick Kerr and Anne Wetherill Kerr. She attended the Ethel Walker School in Simsbury, CT. Directly following their 1939 wedding, hosted by Mrs. Lofting’s parents at their home, Inverbrook Farm, in West Grove, PA, the newly weds drove to Greenough, MT, to begin their life together at The Rocking Chair ranch. During World War II, Mrs. Lofting lived in Las Vegas, NV where her husband was serving in the Army Air Corps. After the war they returned to West Grove, PA and ultimately to Inverbrook Farm.

A lifelong love of horses and riding kept Mrs. Lofting in the saddle into her 60s. In addition to herding cattle for the King Ranch with her husband, she and her family hunted with Mr. Stewart’s Cheshire Fox Hounds. An avid participant in the local steeplechase racing community, Ida Lofting owned, exercised and eagerly followed the achievements of the horses trained and housed on her farm, by Jonathan Sheppard. When she was not outside riding, walking her dogs or gardening she was inside playing Bridge with good friends. For over 30 years Mrs. Lofting volunteered at the Chester County Hospital in West Chester, PA. She was also one of the founding parents of the Upland Country Day School in Kennett Square, PA.

Survivors include one son, Hugh John Lofting of West Grove, PA, two daughters, Cintra Lofting Murray of West Grove, PA, and Penelope Lofting Sheppard of Wilmington, DE, six grandchildren, Daniel Sheppard, Diana Sheppard Quinlan, Claire Murray, Hillary Murray, Hugh Lofting II and Elliott Lofting, a great-grandchild, Emily Sheppard, and four step-grandchildren, Rebecca Murray, Megan Murray, Emily Morgan and Abigail Morgan. She was predeceased by a brother, James Renwick Kerr Jr. and a sister Nancy Kerr Nichols.


Ida with Colin "Skipper" Lofting


Ida with her brother, Jimmy Kerr, at her wedding, May 26, 1939



From the program distributed at Ida's memorial service:

To the friends of Ida Lofting:

Nourishing, honest, frank, with an amazing appreciation for fun, Nana was one of the best hostesses ever. She created a home without pretense, judgment or ceremony. Without consternation or fuss she welcomed the community into her life—the legendary neighborhood get-togethers around the stream-fed pool, hunt teas and Sunday lunches; and in more recent history, gatherings that centered around the friends, colleagues, and new family members of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. These included milestone birthdays, weddings, hosting college roommates at Thanksgiving, high school reunions, house concerts, porch parties, and chicken sales in the kitchen—Nana was open to just about anything.

Although Nana was always willing to share a story about her childhood, her horses, or the “good old days”—she lived fully in the present. She valued friends and the outdoors over material possessions, being active and useful over leisure. Her sense of community was not limited to a particular generation, vocation, or interest. A good sense of humor, an appreciation of Inverbrook, and most of all an offer of support, love and/or friendship to her family was all it took for Nana to share her home, any food in her fridge, or a glass of her famous mint ice tea.

As a family, we could not feel more blessed to have had such an amazing matriarch at our center. Without sentimentality or doting, her participation in our lives, interests, and friendships provided positive and uncomplicated support. Collectively we would like to thank you for enriching Nana’s life, just as she enriched ours. Her ability to remain “on the go” and relevant is what gave her joy and contentment. Your simple acts of engagement, conscious or not, made Nana’s life fulfilling to the end—updates at the barn, Bridge games, the delivery of “overnights”, friendly conversations while shopping for tomatoes and corn, an old family friend stopping by for tea or a “scoop”, a wave or a nod while following the foxhunt, volunteering at the hospital, involvement at her church, a trip to the races, a question about her life, the sharing of a problem or a passion, a job for her to do—this is what kept Nana going all these 94 years. Thank you.

We will miss her greatly, but know that remembrances of her unique conviviality will bring us comfort and guide us.

With deepest gratitude, The Family of Ida Lofting



When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room.
Why cry for a soul set free.
Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared.
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all a part of the Master's plan,
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart,
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.
Miss me, but let me go.

Message shared at memorial service by Hugh Lofting, on behalf of Ida Lofting's children:

Cintra, Penny and I welcome everyone to the celebration of our Mom. She would be the first to say how lucky she has been throughout her life. Mom often commented “if you have a roof over your head, your health, and your family what more do you need.”

Cintra, Penny and I represent the third generation to live at Inverbrook Farm. In 1934 Grandfather and Grandmother Kerr built onto old ruins that are now Inverbrook Farm. Mom and Dad were married on the Farm in 1939 and so it began.

We were blessed to have had such a great Mom. There were others in the community who also considered our Mom as their Mom away from home. Like this Irish lady that hung around for years and finally was awarded Sister Status. Mom even had a French student that worked in my business live with her for six months and who shared the “love” of Mom. When she heard the news of Mom’s passing she joined our feeling of loss. Mom would always have room for others, she would never turn down a chance to help a friend or a stranger in anyway she could. Even the hobos who traveled the railroad along 926 and 841 and would stop for a cup, or a mason jar, of coffee as they journeyed through.

Mom liked people to visit in the kitchen and talk with her. Some of us would have complete strangers stay in Mom’s house or partake in our family holidays. Of course they didn’t stay strangers for long as they quickly recognized what a special person she was and would always ask about her. Some of those former “strangers” are here today.

Throughout our school years, Mom was on the go. Dad and Mom played an active role with others in the community to start Upland Country Day School in order to provide local education to us and others. Mom also loved to host “pool parties” on hot summer days. Our neighboring families would bring their hamburgers and hotdogs to throw on the grill and we’d play any kind of game we could drum up.

Mom was very accepting. One summer my neighbors and I got the need for speed and thought we would build a “buckboard”. Shortly into the project a cutting torch started a fire in the garage connected to the racing barn at Inverbrook. While one worked to put out the fire, and another let out the race horses of a famous horse trainer (not knowing a stallion was in the mix) I ran to call the fire company. Soon the situation was under control. After the horses were put back into random stalls and the fire company left, these young mechanics sat down to thank God things didn’t get out of hand! Meanwhile Mom having followed the fire company was on the scene. As we started home, she turned to me and asked “would you like to ask your friends for supper?” Now that is unconditional love!

It was in the later years that I began to realize what a special place Inverbrook Farm was to Mom and how much she was at home there. Mom loved to ride, walk her dogs and work in her garden all the time. She was a real homebody. You would see her at the race barn getting the overnights and making an occasional $2.00 bet to show. Of course she never took too big a chance. Another love of Mom’s was her bridge club. The ladies would play for 5-6 hours and the big winner might get $2 bucks. At least that is what I heard! She’d be so excited if she won; but if she lost…. well then you might want to steer clear of her for a little bit.

I also realized at this time the sense of tradition and strong values that Mom possessed. In later years, and through the encouragement of grandchildren, we asked Mom if she would allow us to get grants from different sources to add value to the streams, wildlife and runoff of the farm. She would say “I don’t really know what good that will do, but go ahead if it doesn’t cost too much money.” In fact three generations of family have been making decision on the farm. She was always willing to listen to her children and support their ideas no matter how crazy they may have seemed to her.

It was a surprise to me when, about six months ago, Mom slowed down and began to talk about death. It seemed to me that she had her health and could still go for short walks, go up and down stairs without needing help, and enjoy her family as she liked. Besides we couldn’t imagine Inverbrook without Mom. What I didn’t realize at the time was that Mom didn’t want to be a burden and would not like to have others take care of her. On Christmas Eve day, Mom went to the Chester County Hospital and was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. She had a frank conversation with the doctor about having lived a full life and being ready to pass on. Mom went to Neighborhood Hospice that afternoon right across the street. Cintra, Penny and I had a sad but love filled week with Mom. By the end of the second day she was known as “the wonderful lady at the end of the hall”. It seemed Mom found relief with her decision. She saw all of her grandchildren and a good deal of her extended family and best friends during the week. Cintra, Penny and I had a relaxed feeling at this wonderful Hospice facility. Mom created a radiant sense of calm for all that visited her. Cintra, Penny and I had wonderful visits with Mom to the end and we were all at her bedside when she began her next journey. It was the perfect ending for Mom. This beautiful gracious lady made all around her feel at ease while she chose to walk on.

Mom chose to die on the second full moon of the month which we think is significant. Mom, a person like you comes along only once in a blue moon. We love you Mom!



Message shared at memorial service by Daniel Sheppard, on behalf of Ida Lofting's grandchildren:

As the oldest grandchild, and the father of Nana’s only great grandchild, I wanted to speak about what she meant to our generation. Her most notable quality was that she loved family. She valued her time with family more than anything else in life. We have all been lucky enough to live at Inverbrook, so we all have had the great fortune of knowing Nana as well as our own parents. We know every acre of the farm, we know every hiding place in the house, but most important we always felt like it was as much our home as hers. But the farm isn’t an address, it isn’t a deeded piece of property, it was Nana. Everyone came and went, the door was always open. We could always walk in the door, yell “Nana!“ And she would answer. She was always there, and she was never too busy. I personally will remember her sitting in the living room playing solitaire. She loved us all coming and going, she was always the model hostess, putting on a pot of tea or wanting to feed us. I will miss the tomato, bacon and Velveeta things, you can’t duplicate them, trust me I have tried. Not sure if it was the years of built up crust on the pan she baked them in, or the slightly out-of-date ingredients, it must have been just her touch that made them so good. We could always count on Nana making Christmas and Thanksgiving exactly the same. As the younger generation we grew up in front of Nana, starting as infants, to the adults we are today. Some of us have moved around as our lives would change, but there was always a secure feeling knowing that things were exactly as they should be. She welcomed everyone, family and friends the same. People would stay with her and she went out of her way to make everyone feel welcome. Even in her last days she was more worried about her visitors than her own well being. We could always use the house as we needed, a boarding house, a place to have a party. I have heard there have been a few, and even weddings. Nana WAS our family, we all kind of circulated around her. My memory will be of holidays and Sunday lunches. We always felt safe knowing that she was there for us. She was the trunk of our family tree. But the one thing I think that is the most important thing I will remember and that I hope we all have in us, is the way she loved. She loved in the traditional sense meaning she loved her husband till the day he died, caring for him 24/7 in his later years. A type of love that takes a commitment and determination. But she loved also in the biblical way, as God loves us, faithfully and without reservation. A love that cannot be better defined than the way she felt about my father and Wendy. They were as welcome in her house as they ever were. This kind of love takes a heart that sees no fault, casts no blame, and forgives without questioning. We will all miss Nana, but I would like to think that she is only gone in the physical sense, and that she lives on in each of us.

And one last thing, as I stood at Nana’s grave yesterday, and saw Skipper’s headstone next to her, I felt a little peace knowing that they would be together again. And for those of you who don’t know, Skipper was cremated, and his ashes spread in the Blackfoot River in Montana near the Rocking Chair Ranch. I was reminded of this passage from Norman MacLean…

“When I am alone in the half-light of the canyon, all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Blackfoot River and a four count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one… and a river runs through it.”