The person who made me is gone.
Her legacy is three very different children on wildly divergent paths.
A woman who was ahead of her time yet very much part of her time left:
A daughter who is self-reliant, ruthlessly pragmatic, a veritable mama bear with her children. She left home at an early age and carved her own path
A daughter who stayed home, went to school, got the degree Mary wanted*, married a man who was definitely not what her parents had in mind, and who did not provide grandchildren
*”I wanted to be a librarian but my mom wouldn’t let me. You know, old maids and their cats”
A son whom no one understood, under-loved, determined to do his own thing while shouting loudly for a place to belong
She said in an interview that she was most proud of her children, which suprised at least one of us. I never thought she noticed.
My mom was born with cataracts in both eyes and curly untameable hair. She had a go for broke attitude and was quite matter of fact that “Dad didn’t want kids”. (This shaped her response to her own children and was really difficult for her youngest)
She and her sister worked from a young age; a notable job was in a vitamin factory. “Mom made us change clothes on the porch because we smelled so bad.” There was an extended Italian family that made wine in the bathtub and a step-grandfather who resigned from the Los Angeles City Council after accepting bribes. (He was exiled to the midwest for a few years since my grandmother worked for the head of the IRS in LA and her parent’s disgrace was a little too much).
Mom was visiting her grandmother in North Hollywood on December 7, 1941 and her parents had her return home because of fears that the southland would be under attack too. She swears that Long Beach was bombed and that it was covered up so as not to scare the populace. I think her immediate family was safe from being sent overseas and she remembers her Italian grandparents visiting the Italian POWs at Santa Anita. “They didn’t just put the Japanese in camps” This is the kind of detail you don’t learn about in school.
Post-War, she and her sister entered the Southern California Catholic Youth Marriage Mart (aka the Claret Club) where they met their first and only husbands. My mom served as secretary and fell in love with the club president. The Claret Club is also notable for the lasting friendships formed there – in Mary’s circle there were Pat and Bob and Carol and Larry and Barbara and Paul and the Dupuis….lasting friendships, and the Swift-Sands-Rizzi trio lasted until death.
Mary and Fran lived in numerous houses as Fran pursued a real estate career. Mary worked as a secretary and started her family. First up was Linda Ann Swift, a Valentine’s baby. In the Catholic tradition, she was joined by Deborah Jean Swift a year later (on Pearl Harbor Day) and as far as Mary was concerned, the family was complete. God had other plans, and sent Jonathan Moor Swift (Thanksgiving) as the heir and son. After that, Mary defied the church and went on birth control – she knew her emotional and economic limits and three children were enough!
Fran became a teacher and Mary continued to work. They formed a tight knit group with the Sands and the Rizzis and there were many barbecues and beach days and backyard gatherings with all the kids. The post war baby boom was ON but all the turmoil and social changes seemed to happen outside our bubble. Vietnam, riots, hippies and Japanese cars were present in the news but not in our home.
Mary’s career: you might think that being a secretary is a low key, boring, administrative position. But Mary was in the right place at the right time and she wanted stimulation and challenges. She learned how to send overseas documents using the “TWX” and “Telex” machines, was trained on a Wang Word Processor, had ownership of the company FAX machine, and treated her bosses like kings. Every Christmas she brought huge Tupperware bowls of guacamole made with our home grown avocados and every year the bowls were empty by lunchtime. She adored the attention. She was one of the youngest people to get cataract surgery in the 70’s and it changed her life because now she could drive Heady times.
She decided to learn how to make new friends before she retired and volunteered on the Monrovia Days committee. She moved Dad to Green Valley Arizona where his childhood friend had retired and her sister and a few friends followed. She learned to use the Internet and email and persuaded Dad to join the Elks club so she’d have a place to play Bingo. They built a new home in a new development that was filled with light inside and an eclectic fruit/vegetable/cactus garden outside. They explored Southern Arizona and fell in love with the desert. No visit was complete without a trip to Tubac or Tohono Chul or Madera Canyon.
Dad passed away in 2002 and, as she predicted, mom’s friends rallied around to support her. “I want to move to a place where they know what to do when your husband dies” she told me. And they did.
At this point, her children learned that mom was quite impulsive and just how much of a calming influence dad had been. Within six months she bought a smaller house with a tiny yard that she felt she could manage. It was the first time she’d ever lived on her own and she was determined to do so on her own terms.
Mom continued to be active with the Elks and her church. She visited her friends and family in California and supported Carol and Pat when their husbands died. She loved and was proud of her grandchildren. Linda would visit and they’d do road trips and attractions, Debbie visited and went shopping and read, Jon visited and fixed things around the house. It was a good life.
We are very grateful to Pat Rizzi who, in her last days, encouraged Mom to move back to California to be closer to her children. It was a whirlwind declaration – “I’m selling the house, oh, the house sold and I need to move out in a few weeks” – but the family rallied and got her to California. (There are stories, but they probably won’t be funny for another decade or so.)
She settled into an assisted living facility near Linda who took on the yeoman role of managing her life. Linda balanced oversight and interference masterfully and got Mom on track with finances and health.
Mom died a few years ago – she had a heart attack, called the paramedics and coded on the way to the hospital. They revived her and put her on track for a lingering, managed death. Linda fought with the doctors to change the situation and with the help of Patricia Sands, got her into a rehabilitation center where she started to mend.
I honestly think that episode was a gift because it forced her children to work together and broke down the walls that develop between siblings when they grow up. I made a vow that I would stand with my big sister and support her however I could. Mom had a tendency to play her children against each other and we decided there would be no more secrets, no hurt feelings and no brokered communication. I am so happy we came together. It’s made the last few years so much easier.
This final journey isn’t my journey. It’s not Linda’s journey, or Jon’s. The final days in your life belong to you alone as your body winds down and your soul journeys toward God. As her daughter, my role is to ensure she has the medical support she needs and that she knows how much I love, appreciate and honor her – she gave me life and I would not be Debbie without her influence.
Mary, Mom, Mumsy, Mamacita, Mi Madre, Tu Madre, Maritza, Mary. Go swiftly and easily to your home. Say hi to the gang.
Corgi and a Cuppa Tea 