Annette Miller died on June 23, 2018, in her room at Inverness Village. She was born January 9, 1914 in Belleville, IL, to Fred and Leone Fleischbein, both musicians. Before moving to "independent living" at Inverness in 2011, Annette resided in the Bren Rose neighborhood in Tulsa. She moved there in 1952 from Cheyenne, WY, with her husband John ("Jack" to his friends) and son, David. Until she suffered a debilitating stroke in November, 2015, Annette lived, as friends would attest, very independently, even piloting her Buick Lucerne around town...rapidly.
After graduating in 1936 from the University of Illinois with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism, Annette taught high school English and Journalism until she married Lt. Jack Miller in 1941. The couple traveled from post to post stateside before Jack went overseas in early 1944 to participate in the D-Day landing. A gifted artist, Annette decorated her bungalow at Inverness with many of her own oil paintings. She read plays and wrote papers for decades in the Shakespearian Society; read and discussed French literature (in French) with a group; attended, and donated to, Tulsa's symphony, opera, and ballet; participated in Great Decisions; and was a serious bridge player.
Annette is survived by her son, David Miller, and his wife, June (Ito); grandchildren, Catherine Miller and Geoffrey Miller and wife, Bekah (Johnson); and great grandchildren, Jackson and Marco Cimato of Austin, TX, and Olivia and Alysa Miller of Stillwater, MN.
She was preceded in death by her parents and her husband.
According to her wishes, Annette was cremated and her ashes will be mixed with her husband's for burial in the Memorial Garden of All Souls Unitarian Church in Tulsa. A memorial service will be held at Inverness Village, on Saturday, July 28, at 11 a.m., followed by a reception at noon. Donations in her honor should go to the charity of the donor's choice.
During their first Christmas together, Jack wrote to his parents, "Christmas with Annette is as good as with a little kid. For weeks she's been shaking her packages and peeking under the corners...." It took a stroke, not mere years of life, to quench that spirit of joy and discovery.

Fitzgerald Southwood Colonial Chapel, 918-291-3500