On March 20, 1932
in Kansas City
A star was born,
A supernova,
beautiful inside and out
widening her orbit
as her universe expanded.
A beautiful dreamer
who went places she’d
never even dreamed of.
An only child born during
the depths of the Great Depression,
raised during the Second World War
both events shaping her and preparing her
to withstand any hardships to follow.
When she was little,
she rode the streetcar
with Gramma Lida
“to the pretty part of town.”
She cared for her own father when he passed,
Finishing high school by night
tending her father by day,
Her mother blazing a trail
a single mom long before
the term was in vogue
She knew things
would be different
for her own children one day.
On a trip out west, a young Mary Ann,
in turquoise pedal pushers,
decided California would be a nice place to live,
full of beautiful places and beautiful people.
And warm. California was warm and inviting.
Little did she know
her expanding orbit
would eventually lead her
to establish her own colony
in the suburbs of Southern California
Adventurous, and willing to venture
into a world outside her own:
“Do you want to go to Liberia?”
“OK. Where is it?” Africa.
Two years in the Tropics
Tragedy, as we lost our sister
Before we got to know her
But a Mediterranean cruise and
an Eat-your-way-through-Europe tour
later, our parents settled in Akron,
where each of us was born.
The hand of God delivering
unto Mary Ann a son, a daughter,
and another son,
Blessed events and miracles
each one, in our own right.
Each one hers and hers alone
Her 1, 2, 3 little Indians
She always appreciated
the pretty in life where she found it.
She made sure we knew how
to absorb the pretty too,
at museums and plays,
Art shows and wine festivals
and the Renaissance Faire
She stomped grapes.
She sat center stage.
She lived Beauty.
She built a home
out of a tiny little house
in Downey.
A little older, a little stricter,
a little wiser than the other moms.
In retrospect, a little better
than the other moms too:
for she knew her goal
was not to raise children,
but to magically transform us into adults,
despite our resistance to the idea.
She made Jojo’s and Foxy’s fun.
She put us to work
on Christmas ornaments
during Midwestern summer
rainstorms in Ohio,
showing us The Pretty
was fun to make, too.
She was savvy enough
to save travel points
so we could taste
the luxury that Hyatt
hotels could offer,
in San Diego, Monterey,
and San Francisco,
up and down the California coast
to show us how to go
outside our comfort zones
to reach past our own neighborhood
to the world and beyond.
She sparked our imaginations
teaching us the world
was our oyster
that we could
go anywhere and
do anything
because she was there
to congratulate our successes
and catch us when we fell short
of our own lofty expectations.
Mostly, we just needed
to bask in the warmth
of her presence
and feel her light.
There was something
in everything little thing about her.
The way she swam without getting her hair or face wet
The way she sang us awake on school days
The way she made raising us look simple and effortless
The way she artfully expanded her universe once again,
bringing Lou into her orbit,
adding richness and love
and a new dimension of family.
Mom’n’Lou became inseparable,
a team of two soul mates,
traveling their universe together,
taming up to five teenagers at a time,
surviving beach house vacations,
traveling to exotic locales,
cruising to Alaska,
through the panama canal,
Around the Horn of South America.
And where ever they went,
she knows just the place
for lunch,
or coffee and dessert,
or a late supper,
and each one guaranteed fabulous.
Like she was.
She was our sun,
And our sun was so beautiful
That each of us, her moons,
constant in our orbit,
hold up mirrors to forever reflect her light
on those lucky enough to say “I knew her”
and on those with the misfortune
to have missed her presence.
May she shine on in each of us who knew her,
Ever illuminating her beauty
to those who will only come to know her
through us as we carry her light forward.
Every life must end,
but only for those who remain earthbound
Mom’s soul, her spirit, her essence,
is free from pain, sorrow, grief, disease or heartache.
Those are the reminders
meant to remind us
what she meant to us.
Mom is free to occupy the best seats in the house,
along side Gramma and Cynthia,
and the loved ones who have gone before her,
to safely watch over us all
as we carry on, reflecting her light.
She leaves behind her life’s love Lou,
and her true labors of love,
her beloved children,
the masterpieces she raised into adults,
and friends and family far and wide
who mourn the loss of the star
that became our sun.
Miss you Mom.
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