Louise "Boo" Daleo

Louise "Boo" Daleo, age 87, of Saint Peters, Missouri passed away on Friday, May 17, 2024. She was born in St. Louis, Missouri on March 16, 1937 to Vincent and Avis (nee Wood).

Louise is survived by her beloved husband of 63 years, Joe Daleo; loving daughters, Joan (Barry) Daleo and Sandra Daleo; and a host of other family members and friends.

She was preceded in death by her parents, Vincent Pinky and Avis Pinky; daughter, Debra McGee; and brother, Donald (wife Sandy survives) Pinky.

Obituary for Louise Clarice Daleo written by Joan Daleo:

My mother, Louise “Boo” Daleo was born in March of 1937. She grew up in a close tight-knit family and all the stories she told of her family indicated they were happy. Her father Vincent worked in a factory. Her mother Avis worked in a meat packing plant. She spoke of her grandmother fondly. She was close to her “Aunt”. Neither her father or mother enjoyed good health. Her father passed in his early fifties. Her mother died in her early sixties. She had an older brother, Donald Pinky and she remained very close to him until his death in 2017. Both my mother and her brother helped her mother once their father had died. They had a wonderful foundation—hard working, morally guided, self-reliant, and a deep sense of responsibility to those they loved.

My mother would want to be remembered as someone who in her words “had done it all”. She started with seemingly little advantage, a 9th grade education, no driver’s license or car, and an initial failed marriage. While her beginning may have been humble, she achieved much.
My mother was a first a mother. She loved her children and grand children beyond words. She wanted a big family. She was only able to have three children. She was everything to the three of us. She was always there. She really knew us. She gave us each what we individually needed. I don’t think any of us ever imagined that we would have to live without “Boo”. She made our worlds work.

My mother’s life revolved around the love of her life, my father, Joe Daleo. They were married in February 1961. What a life they shared. When we were young, I remember the small house in Ferguson where we lived. That little house was spotless. My mother cooked and cleaned every day. I remember the clean floors, the mid-century furniture, and my mother cooking while we played on the floor.

My mother would tell us that those early days, when my sister Sandy & I were home with her every day were the happiest of her life. She knew how to care for children, and she loved every minute of our time together. My father often said he never worried about us, because he knew my mother was there. She taught me the alphabet and read to me often before kindergarten—beginning my lifelong learning and habit of reading. She often told the story of my first day of kindergarten. When I got home, she asked me what happened. I recited the days’ events in great detail. When I got home the second day, she asked me what happened. I again recited the days’ events in great detail. On the third day, when she asked what happened, I explained that I did not have time to give her all the details, but that if anything big happened, I would let her know. She frequently reminded me that I lied—I often didn’t tell her even if something big happened.

My mother would brag on us in ways that often embarrassed both my sisters and me. She was proud of us. She was proud that we could focus on school without needing to go to work to support her. She was proud of being able to pay for both college and graduate level schools. She was proud when she was able to help us purchase our first cars and homes. She gave her children big Christmases filled with gifts. She gave her children big birthday parties. She gave us big weddings. She wanted us to know we were loved. She wanted us to have all the things she didn’t have when growing up.

She had one constant companion and true love—my father. When I was young, I remember they were both what we would describe today as glamorous. I remember when they went out for New Years Eve parties they dressed in their best. When they went to Las Vegas in the seventies and eighties, they wore suits and dresses. They looked like movie stars. They traveled together throughout their lives—including Branson, many Canadian and lake fishing trips, a car trip to California and back, and Europe. They had a home in Florida for twenty years and extensively traveled the state.

When we were young, the memory I have of my parents is that they always wanted to be together and surrounded by their family and relatives. My mother cooked and cleaned and seemed that virtually every weekend they invited friends and family to our house. Barbeques, horseshoe tournaments, Christmas Eve open houses, and New Years Day parties. They had parties where up to 60 or more people were welcomed. My Dad would often still be inviting people the day before the party. My mother was unfazed. She was so confident in her ability to cook and entertain. She made everyone feel comfortable. She had all the details planned.

I often say—I really have only accomplished a couple of things. My mother on the other hand, accomplished many things. She was an extremely gifted natural cook. She had a wonderful eye and decorated her home with beautiful things. She avoided fads—her home was comfortable, beautiful and timeless. She loved crystal, diamonds, glass, silk, and fine furnishing. And while she loved and collected things, she was not possessive or ever pretentious. She was creative—she took up painting and stained glass at one time. She knitted, crocheted, sewed, and embroidered. She made her friends and family embroidered towels, lace napkins, and table runners. She sewed dresses for the girls in Hatti after the famine and hurricanes. She sewed curtains for the Ronald McDonald House. She sewed caps for women undergoing cancer treatments. She baked cookies and sent trays to many of her friends. She baked old fashion cheesecakes and gave them to friends. Her pies and cakes were always incredible and beautiful. Our picture albums are full of special birthday and holiday cakes.

My mother was humble and walked quietly through life. She did not like big decisions and deferred to my Dad. She was fun loving, adventurous, fiery at times, and competitive when it came to fishing. To us though, she was always the center, the star around which life revolved. She was a truly special person. She touched many lives and had many friends. And they all knew how special she was in life. She was a member of the generation described as “the greatest” and we all knew why. I know the gates of heaven are open for her and the trumpets are blowing. While we will miss her on earth, she will be surrounded by her people.
Much love always Mom.


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