Liz Black

Mrs. Elizabeth Park Wiggins Black, age 91, formerly of Tullahoma, TN passed away Monday, September 14, 2026.

"By cesarean section she came to town, the old bird soared around, she arrived Sunday at sundown." Van R. Wiggins

She was born on Sunday, June 16, 1935. Her parents were Van Rensselaer and Linnie Gray Wiggins, and her sister was Patricia Gray. They named her Elizabeth Park, and she was a delight every day of her life. OK, maybe not every day, but most people were pretty fond of her.

Elizabeth spent most Sundays of her youth at her aunt and uncle's home, enjoying lunch and games with her extended family. Family was always important, and her painting of the scene she remembered so well was one of her last pieces to almost complete. For a few years, her family moved from Oklahoma City to Harlingen, Texas, where her daddy wrote for the Valley Morning Star newspaper. He was a wonderful journalist, the son of a wonderful writer (his mother), and the father of two daughters whose love of words and grammar was clear.

After attending college at Oklahoma A&M, Oklahoma University (she was a Zeta), and a short stint at the University of Colorado in Boulder, she visited her sister and brother-in-law in Tennessee and decided that moving to be closer to them would be a good choice. Their daughter, Vanessa, was as close as Liz came to having a daughter of her own for many years. The relationship continued to be important for the rest of her life and is to Susan today.

While working at Arnold Air Force Base, and living with her friend Lorean at a local boarding house, she happened upon a man in the same house who caught her eye. After only a few months of courting, the two were married in Oklahoma City, in the same house she frequented as a child, and she became Mrs. John Allen Black, Elizabeth Wiggins Black. Theirs was a relationship of love and friendship, with time spent together gardening and having coffee with friends. Both Liz and John were active members of Trinity Lutheran Church, truly a wonderful place to call home, with friends who remained steadfast for a very long time. They were both Methodists at the start of their lives, and Liz ended her Christian walk back in the Methodist church again.

Liz was never employed as an artist, but an artist she was. She loved painting with acrylics, as oils just took too long to dry, and watercolor seemed way too messy. She was not a messy woman. It must have been frustrating to have a daughter who was such a mess, until she wasn't.

After the death of her husband in 1996, Liz spent a few years in Tullahoma where her son and daughter-in-law and grandchildren lived and then moved to Murfreesboro, where her daughter, son-in-law, and grandsons lived. She has been in Murfreesboro for the past 20 years, living at Adams Place Independent Living for the majority of those years, and spending the last few years first at Adams Place Memory Care, and finally at the Continuing Care Unit at Adams Place.

Two children, David and Susan, called her Mother. David cut down her beloved yew many moons ago, so the relationship might have been tenuous for a bit. Liz and Susan might not have been as famously close the first 30 years, but those final 30, and especially the last 20, made for a magical second half to their story. This matters because for whatever reason, when Liz arrived in Murfreesboro, she left Tullahoma almost completely behind. That matters because too often we put people into boxes, expecting them to remain the person they once were long after they have changed. Susan and Liz enjoyed breakfast on Fridays at Goodness Gracious (through five restaurant location moves), and laughed together enough to make up for anything they missed out on earlier in life. Whoever your child is or your parent is at one point in life is not necessarily who they will be forever. People who want to love each other might find that allowing the other person room to change is an unexpected gift for everyone.

If you asked Liz what makes a person healthy, she might have tried to convince you that walking a lot and keeping a bottle of water with you all the time were key. She also spent time working jigsaw puzzles, painting, taking photographs, and listening to beautiful music. She was an artist in so many areas, and what she has left behind will hopefully delight people for years to come. Her efforts to paint the portraits of every family member were aided by the time she spent with Missy Veazie, art teacher and friend, and for whom we are so grateful.

Anyone who ever waited on her (at a table) for a meal would almost always come away with a grammar lesson that wasn't always desired but probably was necessary. "Can I take your order?" was always met with, "I don't know, can you? But yes, you may." Hot soup, hot coffee, and not too much green in that salad were important things to provide. Some have laughed and others have not, but she knew what she wanted. There is a lot to be said for that.

In her final years, she wasn't so particular about things, and her funnier side was visible more often. With five grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, there was always a lot to keep up with, and she especially loved playing April Fool's jokes on one grandson and wept to hear songs sung by another. She was a loved Nana.

Liz knew Alzheimer's might someday find her, as it had her own mother. It eventually became a big part of her story, but it was never who she was. She was more than eighty years old when its impact began to be seen more frequently.

Liz would want you to know that "A Mighty Fortress" was possibly her favorite hymn, that coffee is best served black and hot enough to burn your tongue, that you should make your bed as soon as you get up, that elbows should be moisturized, and that yellow squash should be picked when it's smaller. What more could a person want to know, right?

David and Susan are so grateful to Adams Place for many years of love and safe living. The reason Liz chose to live there was precisely for the levels of care that eventually became necessary, and having those available made each transition gentler for Liz and for her family.

Arriving on a Sunday in 1935 and leaving on a Monday in 2026, Elizabeth Park Wiggins Black lived a good life.

This family hopes that whoever you are and wherever you go, you will remember to laugh a little every day - advice passed from generation to generation in the Wiggins/Black/Steen families.

The family will always encourage gifts to the Cure Alzheimer's Fund and time spent learning more about the disease and how it is possibly impacting people you know and love. And if you aren't the donating type, write a poem and explore how much fun words can be.

Liz is survived by her children, David Black and his wife Lee Ann and Susan Steen and her husband Bernie; grandchildren, Garrett, Allie (Adam), Hunter (Brittany), Chip (Molly), and Parker (Kartini); and great-grandchildren, Maci, Matthew, Briggs, Remi, Murri, Archer, Aurora, and Leo.

She will be honored at a Celebration of Life with close friends and family at a later date.