Wilba Lee Johnson Featherstone, July 20, 1935 – Oct. 17, 2025

We will always love you, Wilba Lee

There are people whose lives shout for attention, and then there are those whose lives, though quieter, ring out for generations. Wilba Lee Featherstone was the latter: a woman whose gentle humor, sharp intelligence, enduring compassion, and unmistakable spark left an indelible mark on every life she touched.

Born on July 20, 1935, to Benjamin Monroe Johnson Sr. and Jimmie Gattis Johnson, Wilba Lee was raised in the rolling hills of Giles County, Tennessee, a landscape that would shape not only her soul but the stories she would go on to write. She graduated the 8th grade from Rose Hill School and went on to attend Campbellsville High School, where she became a member of the 1950 Homecoming Court — early evidence of the affection and admiration others would always feel for her.

In her teens, Wilba met the love of her life, Charles Henry Featherstone — known to friends and family as “Pee Wee” — at a house party hosted in her family home. A few years later, when he was 19 and she just shy of 17, he returned home from Cleveland, Ohio, where he had moved for work, and asked her to marry him. They wed in Corinth, Mississippi, and took a bus to Cleveland to begin a 62-year marriage filled with love, laughter, books, and the kind of quiet partnership that builds a life worth living.

Though they barely knew each other when they married, Wilba often said they grew up together. That growth was not just the passage of time, but a shared journey: reading thousands of books, making a home from the humblest beginnings, and finding joy in small, shared adventures. When Pee Wee was stationed in Texas during his U.S. Army service, Wilba moved into a tiny duplex near the base. They were young and broke, finding their entertainment swinging on the playground of a nearby school — two kids at heart who would never quite lose that sense of play.

After Pee Wee’s discharge, the couple returned to Cleveland, where he became a skilled machinist and they managed an apartment building, earning the respect of residents – many much older – thanks to Wilba’s fastidious care and gracious manner. But it was in 1964, back in Giles County, where they truly put down roots, building the home of their dreams in Liberty Hill on a beautiful stretch of land bordered by vast woods. That home became the physical and emotional center of their lives, a place where Wilba’s love of homemaking, cooking, and nature thrived.

To Wilba, being a homemaker was a calling. Her home was always tastefully decorated, immaculate, and infused with warmth. Her yard was a source of pride, as meticulously tended as her living room. She was a master of Southern cooking, and those lucky enough to be in her circle knew the joy of opening the door to find her standing there with a plate of warm cookies, a loaf of banana bread, or one of her famous chocolate pies. Her kitchen was a place where love was stirred into every pot.

Wilba was much more than a homemaker. She was a storyteller, both spoken and written. A natural conversationalist and an accomplished writer, she had a rare ability to capture the essence of the rural South with both humor and insight. She published three short stories in national magazines, and she wrote two full novels, blending autobiography, observation, and imagination into work that rang with truth. In her late twenties, she took writing courses at Martin College with Dr. Louie Edmondson, whose mentorship remained meaningful even decades later when they reconnected and began a written correspondence in the last four years of her life. Even in her 80s, Wilba was still writing, still crafting, still connecting.

She never learned to use a computer, preferring the intimacy of the handwritten word. For decades, she maintained long, faithful pen-pal friendships with Jenette Brown and Pauline Lane. These were not casual exchanges but deeply felt relationships built on the careful unfolding of life, page by page, year after year.

Wilba was also a musician. She sang, played guitar, and wrote songs. Music was a shared family joy, and she often played with her sister, Mildred, and her brother, Ben, performing at small local gatherings. Her guitar was among her most prized possessions, and music, like storytelling, was one of the ways she gave herself to the world.

Compassion was her natural state – not just for people, but for animals as well. Her home in Liberty Hill was also a sanctuary: salt blocks for the deer, seed for the birds, grain for the squirrels, and warm cornbread for a raccoon mother who came faithfully to the door with her litters. She doted on her cats, earning the lifelong nickname “Puss,” and was especially bonded with her final cat, Bobbie, who shared 15 quiet, comforting years with her. She supported animal welfare organizations faithfully, never missing a chance to help those who could not help themselves.

To those closest to her, Wilba gave something even more personal: her creativity. For birthdays, holidays, and special occasions, loved ones could count on a “Puss Original” – a hand-drawn card with a message and illustration tailored perfectly to the recipient. These whimsical, heartfelt creations number in the hundreds, each a tiny piece of her soul, tucked into the drawers and photo albums of everyone lucky enough to receive one.

Among her many relationships, her friendship with neighbor Freida Inman stood out in Wilba’s later years. When age slowed her down and she could no longer walk to the mailbox or ride her bicycle, it was Freida’s daily visits that brought news, conversation, laughter, and a deep sense of connection.

Though Wilba and Pee Wee did not have children of their own, family remained the heartbeat of her life. Her sister Mildred generously shared her oldest child, Clifford, with them, and over time he and his wife, Rachel, became like a son and daughter. Their children, Maria and Eddie, were not just relatives. They were grandchildren in love and spirit. This family provided companionship, joy, and, in the end, the devoted care that helped carry Wilba through her final chapter with dignity and grace.

But her love extended far beyond. Wilba was deeply devoted to all of her nieces and nephews and the families they built. As she grew older, especially after Pee Wee’s death, those relationships grew even deeper and more meaningful. Their presence, visits, and calls brought richness, comfort, and joy to her later years. She often expressed how blessed she felt to have those bonds grow stronger with time, and how each one had added light to her life in a different way.

She also carried a deep love for her siblings — all of whom preceded her in death — and spoke of them with reverence, warmth, and laughter. She treasured the memory of their shared childhoods, the lives they built, and the unshakable closeness they maintained into adulthood. Wilba also held loving and respectful relationships with her siblings’ spouses, recognizing the special role they played in her extended family. One in particular, C.E. Owens, remained in her life as a cherished brother-in-law and friend. She often expressed her heartfelt gratitude for the love, stability, and joy he brought to her beloved sister Mildred and her children — a gift she never forgot, and one she wanted to be sure was honored.

Though gentle in spirit, Wilba Lee was also known — and dearly loved — for her unwavering honesty. She didn’t mince words, didn’t traffic in pretense, and never bothered with social niceties that lacked meaning. What she offered instead was something far more valuable: complete authenticity. With Wilba, there was no innuendo, no manipulation, no guessing. You always knew where you stood, and that kind of clarity made her a person people trusted deeply. Her words, like her heart, were direct, sincere, and rooted in care. Even when she delivered a pointed truth, it was never with malice, it was simply her way of honoring others with honesty. That rare gift of straightforwardness became one of the many reasons people cherished her so deeply.

Wilba was a believer in the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ and sought to live her life in a way that reflected His teachings. Her quiet faith was not worn loudly but practiced daily in her kindness, her compassion, her honesty, and the way she cared for both people and creatures with tenderness and grace.

In the end, Wilba Lee Featherstone was many things: quirky, kind, funny, intelligent, creative, observant, fiercely loving, and deeply beloved. She stood just 5’1” and never weighed more than 98 pounds, but hers was a presence that filled every room, every heart, every memory. She lived a life that mattered – not because it was flashy, but because it was honest, joyful, and utterly full of love.

As she prepared to say goodbye, she asked that her family and friends listen to Dolly Parton’s I Will Always Love You. This song, she said, was her message to them. And in those simple, beautiful lyrics, she left them all a parting gift:

“I wish you joy and happiness
But above all this, I wish you love.
And I will always love you…”

Wilba Lee, we hear you.
And we will always love you, too.

Written by her niece, Claudia Johnson, who loved her dearly, and took down notes for this piece on Oct. 15, 2025, at Wilba’s direction from her hospital bed in Lawrenceburg. It was read aloud to her on Oct. 16, and the only thing she wanted changed was the “mistake” that had her height at 5’1”.