Remembering Marie
Today, March 18, 2021, marks 100 years since the birth of my mother-in-law, Marie Barnard Smith Lilly, in Pampa TX. She died in Odessa TX on November 1, 2001, after eighty years of loving and being loved by many people: her parents, Harry and Lillian Barnard; her four older sisters–Wanda, Pauline, Ruth, and Aleta; her younger brother Berkley; her nieces and nephews; fellow faculty members in Odessa Public Schools; and especially, her husband, Wayne Smith, her children, Steve and Karen, her daughter-in-law Martha, and her grandchildren, Lilli, David, and Shelby. I only wish she could have met the next generation! I’ve been reading a memory book that Lilli and I put together in 2002 and thinking about her all day.
Marie came into my life the summer after my freshman year at Rice. Steve drove 300 miles to Phillips one day to meet my parents, and take me 300 miles back to Odessa the next day to meet his family. His father, Wayne, welcomed me with a twinkle in his eye and made me his instant fan. Marie was more reserved, but gracious. Steve’s sister Karen, a glamorous 17-year old blonde, modeled for a local clothing store and shared her room with me. A block away lived Aunt Ruth and Uncle Joe and four energetic cousins–Jay, Roger, JoRene, and Rita. Compared with my hometown, Odessa seemed a hub of activity.
Marie’s grandmother, Martha Williams, was visiting, too, and listened to me play the piano. We discovered that we not only shared the same first name, but the same March 19th birthday, just one day after Marie’s. The convergence of birthdays made me think I could be meeting my destiny.
Steve showed me all the sights within a 90-mile radius–Balmorhea, Fort Stockton (where my friend Elizabeth lived), and the successor to Headlee Hospital, where my brothers were born. Wayne took me over to see Joe’s used car business. Marie and Ruth cooked bountiful dinners. Laughter and love permeated every gathering. I thought Odessa was a magical place.
After Steve’s first graduation from Rice in 1965 (a BA after four years; a BS in Electrical Engineering after five), he took a job as a welder in Germany. I traveled with the Experiment in International Living to Austria. The last weekend in July he drove his VW six hours from Frankfurt to visit me in Vöcklabruck. Early Monday morning, after returning to Frankfurt, he called with the news that Wayne and Joe had both died of sudden heart attacks and he was flying home. I’ll never forget translating this news into German and having my Austrian family cry with me.
It must have been tough for Marie to see Steve get married on June 11, 1966, without Wayne at her side, but she welcomed me to the family. Steve worked for Texas Instruments in Dallas that summer and we met her for some fun weekends at her sister Pauline’s house in Decatur. In September we moved to Massachusetts, traveling in a caravan with Joe Simmons, who was headed to grad school in Rhode Island. I wrote Marie long, chatty letters from Cambridge. I know she appreciated them, because she kept every one of them. Here’s a shortened version of a long one I found today. We rationed long distance calls, which were expensive in those days.
11 Peabody Terrace #204, Cambridge MA 02138, Sept. 21, 1966
Dear Marie,
It’s the first day of fall–cold and wet. If my trunk doesn’t hurry and get here from Texas, I’m going to freeze to death. It’s a good thing y’all gave me some extra sweaters–thanks again.
Thanks for sending the registration certificate for the Chevrolet you gave us. It will save us a lot of money to keep it registered in Texas. We don’t use it as often as we did in Texas, but when we need it, it sure comes in handy–like the other day, when we had a hand-me-down sofa tied on top of it.
It was kind of easy to feel sorry for ourselves at first–alone in a strange place. But now that we have met some of the other couples, we find how lucky we really are. First, we speak English. One of the guys in Steve’s study group (profile of all five coming soon) is from Panama. Although he has lived in the States five years, his English is still rather halting. And his bride of one month can’t speak a word of English. You should have seen me mustering my Spanish to invite her to go with all the wives on a walking tour of Harvard Yard. We had a lot of fun. I’m going to take her shopping with me next Saturday. They don’t have a car, and she’s never even seen a supermarket. [Later found out that their servants did all that.]
I’m lucky to have found a job so close and for such good pay [$85/week], at least, compared with the situations of the other women. Veterans of three months, we’ve been married longer than most–can you believe that? Most of the wives I’ve met got married in August and are still writing thank you notes. They say that last year there were four divorces and one suicide before Christmas in the first-year class. I shouldn’t tell you those gory statistics, but it gives you some idea of the terrific strain the guys are under.
Another blessing is that Steve is very conscientious and has a good analytical background. From my own prejudiced point of view, he’s off to a good start. You’re real sweet to offer to help us out, but according to our estimates, we’re going to make it easily on what we have saved, barring unforeseen circumstances. If we can do it, and I know we can, we’ll really have something to be proud of. I got my hair cut today for only $1.50 and bought a week’s worth of groceries for $15.00.
Love, Martha and Steve
Christmas of 1966 was lonely for us, while our families celebrated in Texas, but in the summer of 1967, Marie and Karen spent two weeks with us in Boston and New York. We visited Plymouth Rock and toured the United Nations as the Six-Day War unfolded in the Middle East. On Broadway we saw Mary Martin in “Once Upon a Mattress,” a play about the ups and downs of a long marriage. She, a recent widow, and I, a recent bride, went through a whole package of Kleenex.
In June 1971 we named our first child Lillian Marie in honor of Marie and her mother Lillian. Six weeks later Marie and her sister Pauline came to see us in Arlington, bringing several adorable dresses. I dressed Lilli in one, tucked her into her carrier, and took everyone on a tour of the Capitol. Alas, Lilli had a visceral reaction to her first Senate hearing and soiled her new dress. I hadn’t yet learned to bring extra clothes. Marie and Pauline found it hilarious to help me bathe my young daughter in a Senate washroom sink. We laughed about that for years.
Marie never told us how to raise our kids, but generously provided child care when we needed it and made us feel we were doing a good job as parents. We admired her for being active in her church and volunteering for the Odessa Hospice. When my mother was in a hospice in Amarillo in January 1989, she drove 250 miles from Odessa to help me make funeral arrangements.
Mostly, though, we had good times together. Christmases were a production! We traveled with her to France, New York, New Mexico, and the Virginia countryside. She always impressed our friends. Few of their parents were so young, so elegant, or so fun. Many took her for my sister. In 1994 Steve hosted a joint party for her 73rd and my 50th birthdays.
Then in March 1995, Marie suffered a severe stroke. It might have killed a weaker person, but Marie’s true character was revealed. With Karen and Steve at her side, she fought first just to survive. Then bravely, she worked hard to walk and talk again. Although she had to abandon her beloved high heels, she succeeded in learning to transfer gracefully to and from her wheelchair. Despite her best efforts at speech therapy, she could say just three phrases: “You help!” “Happy Birthday to you,” and “I love you.”
“You help” rallied the family to her aid. For the next six and a half years Karen organized and managed a round-the-clock team of loving caretakers to look after Marie. Steve took over the management of Marie’s finances and medical claims. Her sister Ruth and many of her friends visited her every afternoon at 4:30. My role addressed Marie’s “Happy Birthday to you” needs–helping her to continue enjoying parties and travel, while at the same time providing vacations for her faithful caretakers.
To celebrate Valentine’s, Christmas, or just summertime, Marie loved for me to bring out her best china and linens and entertain her friends. At one party, we all took our blood pressures with Marie’s machine. That’s one way to get a party pumped up! After a particularly ambitious trip to New Mexico with Ruth and me, she stayed in bed for three days.
In late October of 2001, Marie must have had a premonition that another stroke was nearing. On our weekly Sunday call, she was frustrated not to be able to express how she was feeling. Still, she ended the conversation with her favorite words, “I love you.” Marie wanted her loved ones to have that final message. I love you, too, Marie–still do! Thank you for inspiring me to try to live up to your example.
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