When my mother died with cancer in 1980, I gave Dad time to grieve and then began encouraging him to consider getting married again. We met Mary, my stepmom in March 1983 and immediately fell in love with her. Mary was a bright intelligent lady with a zany wit and an uncanny knack for analyzing events.
Our first close contact with Mary was when she gave me a ride to the Quad Cities Airport in Moline in March 1983. We had lunch together and Mary and my husband Bob began talking about the plastic parsley on the buffet. Before long, those two nuts had dreamt up “Parsley Sheen,” a spray you could use to brighten up the plastic parsley so you could use the same sprigs longer.
Mary and Dad married in the Bishop Hill Colony Church in October 1983. I played the foot pedal organ in the church and we used “Till There Was You,” from “The Music Man” as part of the music. The wedding reception took place at a truck stop just off I-74, one of the few local places large enough to hold the eye – popping number of friends and relatives who came to celebrate.
A lifelong newspaper woman, Mary had begun as the girl who made the coffee and ended her career as a highly – acclaimed farm news editor with many national awards for her writing. Mary was a passionate defender of the truth; she deplored the depths to which mainstream media has descended in recent years. To the end of Mary’s life, she could analyze current events and political leaders with lightning speed and accuracy.
Mary kept working at her newspaper job until her last child was through school, at which time she became a freelance writer and reporter. One of her favorite assignments was writing articles for an in – house publication for a dairy company. Dad and Mary traveled all over the upper Middle West interviewing the families who sold milk to this company. In addition to writing the articles, Mary also took the photos to accompany the articles.
When Dad and Mary got married, they moved into the house one set of my grandparents had owned. Over the years, that place underwent a number of transformations until it was a warm and cozy nest. The kitchen windows looked southward and eastward, and Mary would hang sun catchers in those windows. One of my favorite memories was of Dad and Mary having morning devotions while the rainbows from the sun catchers danced around the room.
Dad and Mary had twenty – eight happy years together until Dad’s death in 2011. Even after Dad died, Mary remained extremely active. If you didn’t call Mary first thing in the morning, you would not find her at home. She had places to go and things to do! Mary bowled, she had “The Coal Valley Girls,” (a group of women who had grown up in the small town of Coal Valley), and a host of other social engagements. And she faithfully attended her grandchildren’s activities.
Through Dad’s work as a docent at Bishop Hill and his involvement with the Bishop Hill Heritage Association, Mary became part of the Vasa Lodge crew. For a long time, Mary was the Lutfisk Queen of Bishop Hill, cooking up Lutfisk in a white wine sauce for Swedish smorgasbords. Mary was an inspired cook, and her “killer mushrooms” drenched in butter and garlic were a staple of the big family dinners she loved so much. Mary loved nothing more than filling her kitchen counter tops with food and crowding as many family members as possible into her open plan kitchen/sitting room. Holidays, birthdays, or any special occasion – family members squished together around the table or balanced plates as they sat on the sitting room floor, laughing and telling stories.
Sometimes blended families can present challenges, but when Dad married Mary, we won the lottery! I instantly acquired another wonderful brother and four fantastic sisters. We remain close to this day. Folks, thanks for sharing your mother with us! It was in the home of one of my sisters that Mary spent her last few weeks. No mother ever received more tender care from her children.
My dad was a graceful dancer, having grown up in the big band era. Mary could dance but she never felt as proficient at it as Dad did. I like to think that when Mary was freed from her failing body, she danced all the way into heaven!
We made it a point to call Mary from Ghana regularly. The last time we spoke with her, her voice was still firm and her sense of humor intact. Mary died sometime on the morning of January 13, 2021. We are still struggling to wrap our heads around the idea that we can no longer pick up a phone and chat with Mary.
In closing, I want to quote from The Pilgrim’s Progress as John Buchan quoted it in his book Mr. Standfast. Buchan was writing about a brave man who sacrificed his life to save others in World War I. The quote comes when Mr. Valiant – for – Truth is crossing into heaven.
“Then said he, ‘I am going to my Father’s; and though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles who now will be my rewarder.’
So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side.”
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