Lylia "Ann" Nethery

Lylia "Ann" Nethery, 82, of Palestine, IL, passed away on Wednesday, August 12, 2026, at Casey Rehab & Nursing in Casey. She came into the world on April 27, 1944, in Robinson, and grew up in Oblong, walking the halls of Oblong High School. Ann was the kind of person who went where she wanted and did what she pleased, and that started early. On February 3, 1962, at the age of seventeen, she married John Nethery, and the two of them wasted no time filling a home with children.

Those kids gave her a run for her money, and she gave it right back. She raised her children mostly on her own steam, and she had her methods. "Wait until your dad gets home!" could calm a room in about two seconds flat. When John did get home, all he wanted was to relax, but Ann would pester him until he handed out the discipline she'd been promising all day. That was Ann. She knew how to push a button, and she pushed John's every chance she got. It was a family trait (and if you don't believe it, just ask her kids' spouses!)

In the early 1970s, the family moved to Palestine. Ann worked odd jobs here and there over the years. The egg plant didn't last long, since she came home stinking too much to stay, and she spent a while at L.S. Heath & Sons. But it was caring for people that fit her, and once she earned her CNA license, she never looked back. She did home health for a while, looking after folks with the same heart she gave her own family, and she thought nothing of a 24-hour shift or staying overnight when someone needed her. Then came Cotillion Ridge, where she worked as a CNA for over twenty years. Her family has heard story after story about how gently she cared for people, how good she was at it, and how she trained up the CNAs coming along behind her. Taking care of people wasn't just her job. It was what she was made for.

When she wasn't looking after someone, Ann was going somewhere. She and John loved to ride, and the mountains called to them, so they'd take the motorcycle toward Gatlinburg every chance they got. She was a go-getter, plain and simple, the kind of woman who'd get in the car and drive hither and yon for no reason other than she wanted to. And behind the wheel, she was a force of nature. She'd take a corner on two wheels and leave a trail of stories. Ripped-off exhausts, cars up on curbs, you name it. Whatever else you could say about Ann, she knew where the gas pedal was.

More often than not, all that driving pointed her toward a bargain. She loved a shopping trip, but a garage sale was the real prize, and she kept the newspaper close to sniff out the next one. To the grandkids, she was "garage sale granny." She also liked taking trips to Vincennes, where she would take the kids roller skating. But it wasn't just for the kids. She could dance out on the rink floor and skate backward like she'd been born doing it, and she kept at it weekend after weekend. Weekends held more than one ritual, though. For years, every weekend also meant Canasta with her friends, played in such a haze that her kids are frankly surprised they walked away from all that secondhand smoke none the worse.

Those memories say a lot about Ann: time with the people she loved was everything to her. Nowhere was that clearer than with her grandkids, whom she spoiled rotten. Though Ann was caring and loving, family and friends alike learned that the same woman who'd give you her whole heart would also, cheerfully, give you a hard time. Teasing was practically her love language. She'd needle just to get a rise out of you, and more often than not it worked, landing somewhere between funny and aggravating depending on the day. Age never dulled it, either. Near the end, when she was living in the nursing home, the aides would ask for her finger to check her vitals, and Ann would raise a different finger altogether! The nurses figured out fast that they had a spitfire on their hands.

But there was more to Ann than spirit and spark. For as long as anyone could remember, she was a woman of faith. She grew up going to the Oblong Wesleyan Church, and when she had children of her own, she kept right on taking them. Over the years, her path wandered a bit, out to Outer West Market for a season and then back again, but the Wesleyan church was always home. For Ann, though, worship was never something you left behind at the church door. She carried it with her, and it spilled out in song. She loved the old hymns best, standards like "The Old Rugged Cross," "Amazing Grace," and "This Little Light of Mine." And when John started up "Church in the Wildwood," she'd come right in behind him. She sang these songs all her life, right down to the end, when she sang along with the aides at the nursing home and nearly everything else had slipped from her grasp. But now, she sings them where she always longed to—face-to-face with her Savior—her voice clear and her memory whole again.

Ann is survived by her sons & daughters-in-law, John & Lynn Nethery, Danny & Rita Nethery, and Brian & Kristie Nethery; her daughters & sons-in-law, Joyce & Robert Richards, and DeEtta & John Newlin; her grandchildren, Amanda Cooper, Johnny Nethery, Sara Vanblaircum, Josh Nethery, Dusty Nethery, Tanner Nethery, Brian Nethery, Alyssa Nethery, Raymond Richards, Emilee Davis, Allisen Young, Sheldon Richards, and Johnny Newlin; by several great-grandchildren and one great-great-grandchild on the way; her sister-in-law, Sharon Dart; by numerous nieces and nephews; and her special childhood friend, Virginia Ammons. She was preceded in death by her husband of 48 years, John Nethery, who passed on September 5, 2010; a great-grandson, Jenson Cooper; her parents, Alonzo "Lonnie" & Norma (Curtis) Dart; and her brothers, Gary Dart, Frank Dart, and Darrell Dart.

A time of visitation will be held from 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. on Saturday, August 15th, at the Goodwine Funeral Home in Palestine. A funeral service officiated by Celebrant Curt Goodwine will immediately follow at 12:00 p.m., with burial following in the Palestine Cemetery. Memorials may be made to the "Alzheimer's Association ", with memorial envelopes available at the funeral home.