About Mary -- recorded: 12/30/08

I can hardly write this bio/pre-obit without talking about Mary ... but talking about Mary is going to take a lot of time because Mary has been there most of my life ... and is my life, my lover, my friend and accomplice in crime as it were.

But, before introducing Mary, I have to admit that she wasn't the first woman in my life.  No, I guess that goes to Ethel Stedman (aka Chigger).  Chigger was younger than I -- she was four and I was five and we had a thing going for quite a while and I did love her and love the memory of her even though we haven't met in ... well, decades.

And, later, I had the usual crushes ... and sometimes fantasies ... and a few girl friends at various times whom I remember even if -- in a few cases -- the name now escapes me.  There was Linda, a cute young blonde who liked to swim; ??? who was the daughter of another newspaper editor and her cousin Marilyn and there was Sharon who could ride a horse from youth and ... well, most were -- like me -- puppies.  And I wish them all well; it would be interesting to meet again but, in the vernacular, there are no smoldering embers.

Except for Bobbette, anyway.  There's maybe a small ember there -- after all, she was my first real love and, granted, she did drop me ... but she also introduced me to her roommate (at college) ... and that began the most important relationship of all.  (Note: we did remain friends ... and Bobbette was Maid of Honor at Mary's and my wedding and our guest and friend later in life -- in short, I owe Bobbette a lot ... in many senses ... and I still feel love and affection for her.)

Anyway, I presume you've guessed that the roommate was Mary and our first date was to the State Fair (or something of the sort).  Initially, Mary wasn't who I'd imagined being serious about.  She was on an early feminist kick -- meaning she wore her hair in a rather short, plain cut, just bangs, no curl; used minimal makeup.  She did not have a big bust (but I've always wondered if the bounce wasn't uncomfortable and that didn't bother me.)  She was -- and is -- nicely shaped to hold, relatively tall (important), has beautiful eyes and -- most important -- a very active brain behind them.

At the time, I was a young geek (even though the word had not yet been adopted for use outside the carney and was not yet a term of respect).  I dressed as well as I could afford, wore a trilbey hat (tweed with a small cockade of feathers) ... and always had a sliderule hanging from my belt in a polished leather case.  (A Pickett dual-base, log log trig rule -- see photo.)

Now the sliderule (one of them, anyway) hangs above my desk, inset in a cabinet door.  At upper left, you can also see my first pacemaker.

I was also interested in a practice called "diablogic" (diabolical logic) for which I owed a great deal to the author Eric Frank Russell among others.  Later, in a much wider form, I would come to think of these as koans but, at the time, they were simply paradoxical questions which I would pose to others as a yard stick of their intelligence (I had no doubts about my own.)  I would also finish up with a question such as: "Why a mouse when it spins?"

When I tried this on Mary, her response -- which she says is a quote -- was immediate and  involved crystal cats and bells that chime.  Quote or not, the speed of the response and the appropriateness impressed me tremendously. (Okay, it damn near scared me!  I mean, here was a mind as fast and vicious as my own ... but was this really what I was up to facing?  In any case, I was fascinated.)

The actual quote:

was from The Man Who Was Walter Mitty: The Life and Work of James Thurber By Thomas Fensch

One girl I dated -- she was fun but no brain -- once told me that she didn't understand a word I was saying ... but that she loved to hear me talk.  Now that really scared me!

Being (Almost) Expelled from College

I did not have a car and I had very little pocket money so dating was ... well, very hit or miss.  Mary, however, had a job with the school paper, writing a casual news (okay, gossip) column and I occasionally contributed to the ordure.  And, of course, Mary knew my background, having grown up on a newspaper and -- quite literally -- having learned it from the ground up.

This last became relevant when a conflict appeared between the paper and the administration.  The cafeteria (where almost everyone ate since they'd prepaid) food service had changed (and was really bad -- students would, en masse, simply flip their trays over on the table and walk out in protest).  And there was a second issue as well but I don't remember the subject  there.  In any case, the editor of the school paper had written two editorials which were critical of the school ... and which the administration refused to allow to be published.

And that's when Mary came to me; we needed an independent newspaper, she would be the editor in chief, I was her technical expert and we would begin by publishing the two verboten editorials.  Okay, fine ... but you have to realize that the background I came from was one where a friend could be come an enemy at the drop of one of my father's editorials ... I knew both sides of the issue (and was even on the John Birch Society's black list because Dad's exposure of their principals and their intent to replace our democracy with a fascist government), knew where the problems were, etc.

And I wasn't too terribly surprised when Mary and I were called before the Dean (no names) who was strongly opposed to our independent activities.  If we continued with our activities, we were informed -- and here he had made his first mistake by assuming that I, not Mary, was the driving force behind The Scalp -- we would be asked to withdraw from the school.

That was his second mistake.  I grew up in a household and business where we rode words bareback.  "If we did not withdraw," I demanded (hating euphemisms), "what then?"

If we did not, the Dean grudgingly clarified, then we would be expelled  (which is what I had presumed but wanted it on the record, not as a veiled threat.)

At that point, I gave the Dean as succinct description of his ancestry, antecedents and future residence -- without euphemisms -- and we walked out (I slammed the door behind us ... just for emphasis ... unfortunately, the glass did not break).

Still boiling, I went back to the dorm to pack.  I was already in the Naval Reserve so going active -- which was already appealing to me -- was the obvious next step but there was no point in waiting for formalities.

Except that, an hour or so later, I had a call from the front desk to tell me that I had a visitor.

The visitor was a local attorney.  A member of the board of directors of the school (I know who and thank him) had called Dad; Dad called his attorney for an Abilene recommendation; so this was now my attorney who was preparing to file suit against the school for violation of my civil rights -- i.e., the 1st Amendment; the one guaranteeing the several freedoms of religion, of speech, of the press, to petition and to assemble.

Do I need to tell you that the school backed down very suddenly?  They probably set a world record in backpedalling.  And they decided that the school administration would no longer exercise any oversight regarding the school paper.  Just as well since neither Mary nor I had anything like the capital it would have taken -- even on a shoestring budget -- to get The Scalp to become a viable revenue source. And never mind the time it would have taken.  (But the guilty flee even when the pursuit is lame and halt.)

Years later, that same Dean was my VP in another organization ... but Mary never forgave him for either mistake.

As Mary has said -- and means always -- "Freedom of the press belongs to she who owns one!"

But, you know, that was the point where I began to wonder -- seriously -- what life with Mary might be like?  It certainly wouldn't be -- and hasn't been -- dull.  After all, how many girls try to get you expelled from college over a basic civil rights issue?

Mary comments: They should be glad I didn't sic my mother on them. She was a sweet southern alumna who had started the first sorority and later told me about something called 'The Yellow Journal' and scolded me for concealing the whole thing from her.  

Ben adds: See my later comments about "Mary-sized Holes" ... her mother was also adept at such.

Besides, the food had improved markedly as well.

The TIP Ball

Mary's mother was one of the founders of a sorority called TIP (the acronym is a carefully guarded secret) so, naturally, Mary was also elected to the sorority.  Personally, I was anti-Greek ... but did, eventually, help set up a Greek service fraternity (AΩ) but that's irrelevant to this story.

Please note: neither of us have ever been racist.  A couple of the best friends I have ever known were technically "black" but this story occurred in the early sixties and, even then, was not derogatory but was an acting engagement for a young man who was well paid (and heavily tipped by all, I suspect) for recreating a small, genteel echo of an earlier age. 

The first event came when there was a knock on my door in the dorm (having not been expelled after all). Opening the door, I found a young pickinney (a young black, perhaps 12) dressed in a maroon sports coat, gray slacks and presenting a maroon, gold tasseled cushion with an envelope addressed to me.  Okay, I remember his attire well -- I was impressed (a little envious, perhaps?) -- and I also tipped him generously.

The envelope held an invitation -- from Mary -- inviting me to escort her to the Annual TIP Banquet.

I accepted, of course.

The theme of the banquet was the antebellum South, hence the delivery of the invitation.  

My first thought was that I didn't have a car.  That was settled, however, by an upperclassman whom I'd been tutoring in math (and teaching to use a sliderule).

My second thought was whether I could come up with a period costume.  I had to discard that for several reasons, the first being that local costumers did not have anything of satisfactory quality and the second was simply that they wanted too much for what they did have and, third, I wouldn't have worn what they offered at any price.

So, my "costume" was going to have to be contemporary ... but I didn't really expect to be an exception.  (Remember, this was before tuxedo rental stores popped up everywhere like mushrooms after spring rains ... and, even then, they might have been hard put to satisfy my requirements of a gray, Edwardian riding coat and matching topper, spats and gloves, circa 1820 style.)

But I had to do something special ... and I happened to have a friend who was a florist.  I took my conundrum to them.  Could they get what I wanted?  Oh, yes, absolutely -- no problem at all, there was plenty of time.

So, the evening of the banquet, when I picked Mary up at her dorm, I was able to present her with a corsage consisting -- no, not of orchids -- of a single absolutely perfect, absolutely fragrant ... magnolia blossom.

It wasn't merely that she was the absolute envy of her sorority sisters; even her mother -- this was the first time we met -- was jealous.  (Yes, her corsage was unique.)

Mary comments:  Very appropriate but I had expected no less. Didn't know till later that they were hard to find at that season. 

I believe that was when Grace Lee (Mary's mother) decided that I just might be a suitable son-in-law.  As for Grace Lee, she was almost as impressive as Mary ... she flirted ... shamelessly and perfectly.  (Hey, it's an art and one that isn't appreciated the way it should be.)  And I have loved her dearly (I know, son-in-laws and mothers-in-law are supposed to always be at odds with each other ... but Grace Lee was an exceptional woman ...)

Proposal ... and Acceptance

Several years elapsed between the time we met and our marriage.  During this time, I had gone on active duty, been to electronics school, been stationed in Hawaii as part of AEWBARRSRONPAC (flying radar barrier between Midway and Adack, Alaska) ... and had switched to choppers and ASW when the radar barrier flights were superseded by the new "over-the-horizon" radar installed at Adack.  During that time, we had corresponded,  anytime I'd been back stateside on leave or in transit, I'd met up with Mary (including at least one occasion when I helped her climb out of a dorm window) and ... well, things were moving to the point where we were going to have to decide something.

I'd proposed in a letter from Hawaii, not long before I transferred back to ConUS and HELASRON 11.  Mary hadn't answered -- not directly anyway -- but, once I got back, I went to see her in Abilene and well, basically, she turned me down.  I had a ring -- diamond solitaire -- which went back in my pocket.  She did, however, accompany me to Canadian, Texas to meet my folks there.  Then, one afternoon, after I beat her at chess -- without any hint of mercy -- she changed her mind ... because, she said, I had given her no quarter at chess which showed that I was willing to treat her as an equal.

Don't know why that should have surprised her ... if I'd wanted anything else, I'd have found a fluff-head and made sure that she could cook

Instead, I got what I wanted.  I married my best friend, my accomplice, and my lover.  It just doesn't get any better than that.

And she still is ... all that and more.

Wedding Memories

To be perfectly honest, I don't remember much about the wedding.  I remember the florist was late.  I remember that I hid our new car on a roof-top parking lot (to keep it safe from my five brothers and sisters ... remember them?  They're inventive too.)  I remember that Mary had bought a beautiful lace/linen suit -- not a traditional, one-time-only wedding dress -- that made her look absolutely stunning ... not that she need anything at all.  She always had what could only be called presence.  There might be women who, in the traditional sense, were prettier ... or bustier ... or curvier or whatever ... but, when Mary walked into a room, she was the one men focused one.

Still is for that matter.

In any case, the wedding finally took place, we went to the reception ... and I called a cab to take us to where I'd hidden our new Karmann Ghia.  Emmy, the oldest of my sisters but some four years younger than I, did still manage to get me -- she threw her arms around me to give me a kiss ... and dumped handfuls of rice down my back.

For our honeymoon, we headed for California, visited Disneyland (we loved the Haunted Mansion and the Tiki Room) and then dropped south to Ream Field (at Imperial Beach, south of San Diego) where Mary found our first apartment (on the beach) and we placed a conch shell in the phone nook because it took months to get a phone installed.

Thus our life together began.  That was early in 1966 so it's been a while, no?

Oh, almost forgot, I'd bought a bottle of very fine champagne for our honeymoon.  We finally opened it about ten or fifteen years later.  It was good but it wasn't worthy of the occasion.

A few photos of Mary

	Two old high school photos, early 60's or very late 50's.
	At left, taken after our wedding. Note the simple and timeless design of her blouse.  Much more sensible than a wear-once and discard wedding gown ... and, later, suitably worn in some very nice restaurants, very posh parties, etc.  This was elegance.   At right, a more recent photo when I caught this camera-shy lady unawares.  (She thought I was photographing someone behind her.)