Elizabeth Annette (Bohnett) Springer  known to most as Beth, left this world on May 30th, 2025, surrounded in love. She would not want you to name your unborn children Annette after her. She wasn’t fond of her name and wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. 

 

She passed in the comfort of her home in Kirksville, MO, on her nephew Zach’s peaceful property, where she’d spent her final days laughing, loving, chuckling at her birds, and yes, still cracking jokes.

 

She also requested, in her final weeks, that her daughter Hannah (H.M. Jones) read aloud her latest book, Pickering Place. She laughed at all the right moments and thought Xaiden was the absolute worst. She’d want the world to read all of her daughter’s books and give them five-star reviews. She’d absolutely love it that her tragic death could be used for her daughter’s fame and financial gain. This is an unpaid advertisement, and H.M won’t be paying the estate.

 

Beth lived life with a fierce and hilarious sense of wonder. She was a free-spirited adventurer, a maker of things both beautiful and strange, and a woman with a wicked sense of humor—equal parts morbid and inappropriate. The more awkward she could make a room feel, the more joy it brought her. In this spirit, she lives on in her dark-humored children, but not in a haunting sort of way. She was sick of this place and didn’t care to stick around. She would’ve loved that one of her final moments involved her daughter Maggie quoting Monty Python’s “Bring out your dead” while everyone in the room tried to pretend it wasn’t wildly inappropriate, or feigned temporary deafness. She would’ve found it absolutely hilarious. We hope you heard that last joke, mom.

 

Beth found joy in the weird and wonderful (which is why she married Randy), especially roadside attractions. Her husband fondly remembers the unadulterated joy in her eyes when they stopped in what he regarded as one of the most unremarkable towns in the US to see the World’s Largest Chili Pepper. He described the exhilarated gleam in her eye perfectly, and marveled at what a beautiful and brilliant soul she was to find such rapture in painted fiberglass. 

 

She found similar amusement in the redwoods, hippy Bigfoot, Flintstone National Park, the Sinclair dinosaur, and a giant toilet-shaped restroom in Kansas. She thought Area 51 should have been way more over-the-top, and one of her dying wishes was that someone take it upon themselves to make it absolutely ridiculous to visit. No pressure. Just a dying wish of the world’s most beautiful soul. 

 

One of her final adventures was a trip to Ohio with her granddaughter Emma to visit the World’s Largest Basket. It was also the last patch she lovingly hand-stitched into her husband’s travel blanket.

 

She had a dream to see all 50 states and almost did it, often traveling in her tiny home on wheels built by her beloved husband of 35 years, Randy Springer. Together, they chased sunsets, grandkids, and every oddity America could offer. Being odd together gave them their happiest memories. Her daughter Margaret promised her they she’d find the most respectful puddles in the remaining six states Beth had left to visit, and with great solemnity (and some smirking) sprinkle her ashes into them.

 

Her son, Sam, hopes that should anyone find Bigfoot (he highly doubts this, much to his mom’s disappointment), that you take a not-blurry picture of him and let him know mom was his biggest (despite her diminutive stature) fan.

 

Beth was a creative whirlwind—an artist, quilter, seamstress, cake decorator, bartender, landscaper, waitress, vet assistant, small business owner, daycare operator, homeschool teacher, and the heartbeat of her family. Her Etsy shop, BS Originals (yes, those initials were intentional), reached across the globe and even landed her in an Australian store, a country living magazine and a glamping book. Her busy energy early in life might have exhausted lesser people but her kids remember it fondly. Some of them even inherited it.

 

More than anything, Beth loved her people. Her husband was the love of her life, her four kids were her pride, and her grandkids were her everything. On the day she passed, two of her grandbabies gave her hugs that brought the last smile to her face. Her love stretched far beyond blood—she welcomed every bonus family member as her own and carried a heart of gold that beat for everyone she met. 

 

Her peaceful, abundantly loving heart could not be thwarted by any act of unkindness. When someone threw shade around her, she was the sun. 

 

It should be noted, here, that her oldest and first child, the Sarah Dunn, wished to have it immortalized in writing that, while her mother truly loved all her children, she was the favorite by far. Unfortunately, we forgot to poll her before she left, so we can neither confirm nor deny it. 

 

Beth is survived by some somewhat bitter people that think it’s lame that she rushed through their lives like a tiny tornado, and gave the world only over six decades of her perfection. They are a little mad at her about it, honestly. These loving but angry people are her husband Randy; her children Sarah (Kevin) Dunn, Samuel (Jessica) Root, Hannah (Anthony) Jones, and Margaret (Jay) DeGunia; her grandchildren Emma, Trenton, David, Lexi, Clara, Anthony Jr., Ellie, Layla, David, Charlotte, Jackson, Zoey, Austin and Azalea; her siblings Mark (Carol) Bohnett, Richie (Lori) Springer, Robbie (Flora) Springer, Lisa Springer, Laura (Andy) Jones, and Gary Hipkins; and countless nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, and people who were lucky enough to know her.

 

She was greeted at Heaven’s gates by her parents Earl and Wilma Bohnett, in-laws Rich and Leona Springer, her weird sister Becky Hipkins, her grandparents, and her ex-husband and dear friend David Root. Her family thinks it likely that mom and aunt Becky are singing strange camp songs in between praise choruses with the angels.

 

Beth requested there be no public service. But her family knows that those who loved her want to do something to remember her. So, we request that you find your nearest oddity or roadside attraction and you take a picture next to it and send it to one of her kids. We will photoshop her into it with you and hashtag it #bethgetsaround. We feel this would be a hilarious way to memorialize her.

 

To know Beth was to know what true love felt like. She will be missed beyond all measure.