Just in case anyone decides to write a book about Maryann, I
want to offer my reflections on a few chapters you might include. First, there has to be a chapter on
cooking. I know in her lifetime she must
have prepared thousands of meals (including dozens of Thanksgiving turkeys),
but two things stand out in my mind—Dump Cake and Corned Beef and Cabbage.
First the dump cake—take two cans of any pie filling you like
(apple, cherry, peach, or even pumpkin if you must), spray a baking dish with
Pam and dump in the pie filling. Then
dump in a box of the cake mix of your choice.
Spread the cake mix out to cover the entire dish, and then pour a melted
stick of butter on top. Bake at 350 for
45 minutes or so. Serve warm. Unforgettable and simple, it sounds like Maryann.
Then there was her corned beef. As a person of Irish descent, it did not seem
right that I despised corned beef and cabbage.
Then along came Maryann and her wonderful corned beef tasted like a
different meal altogether—Hmm, a Polish girl showing an Irishman the way to the
food of his own heritage?
The next chapter that comes to mind is her life with
animals—I mean pets. When we first met
the Smith’s, they had a dog named Kelly.
If we came over to eat, Kelly would pester us at the table, looking for
a scrap. Maryann would complain about
Kelly, and about anyone who fed their dog from the table, thereby causing this
behavior. After a few more long minutes
of listening to the incessant begging, Maryann would roll her eyes and give
Kelly a scrap of almost anything—as I recall, that dog even developed a taste
for spaghetti noodles.
As Kelly grew older, she didn’t hear too well. Every so often, Kelly would decide to lie
down for a rest in the middle of the street. Naturally, along would come the UPS
truck. The driver would honk the horn,
but Kelly didn’t move, she couldn’t hear a thing. Maryann would have to run out and pull Kelly
to safety before the UPS driver could move on.
Along the way, we learned Kelly had a sister, Sammy,—a pup from the same
litter who lived with another branch of Maryann’s family. Kelly grew older, and one day passed
away. Maryann arranged a burial service
with the girls and Kelly was buried in the backyard. There were no more pets
for while, except for visits from Melissa’s very special dog, Ragsy.
A few years later, Maryann and John took in a stray cat, a
gift from Katie, and I think the cat still lives there today, nineteen years
later. For a long time I didn’t even
know if the cat had a name (it turns out to be Kit Kat), because all Maryann,
the dog-lover, would call her was “that damned cat.”
Now, I want to also share a legend that may or may not be
true, but I believe it. Sheila and I adopted
a small puppy named Stella. Stella was
the nicest little dog, she would play, she would sit on your lap and, above
all, she was quiet. Enter Maryann,
observing “that dog doesn’t even make any noise,” she, legend has it, taught
Stella to bark. For the next fifteen
years, Stella barked at anything and everything, and we still believe to this
day, that we had Maryann to thank for it.
Finally, there has to be a chapter about Maryann, the
hostess. We met when we were all “strangers
in a strange land,” moving from Up North into the South. Into Gwinnett, the fastest growing county in
America at the time. Not long after we
moved there, we had the great good fortune to get to know the Smith’s. who had
moved to Atlanta from Detroit. We were
astounded to learn the following winter, that Maryann was hosting some houseguests
for three weeks or so. The guests were
John’s parents AND hers—at the same time in their small house. Also along for the visit was Kelly’s little
dog-sister, Sammy—I mentioned her earlier.
So she hosted four adults and a dog in her home, already well-occupied
by two adults, two girls and a dog. We
could only imagine what that must have been like, but they must have had fun,
as those winter visits continued for several years. Only a fine hostess could have held all that
together.
Seven or eight years later, my career led us to move away to
Savannah, and so began a twenty-some years long tradition of stopping for a
night with Maryann and John any time we travelled to visit family and friends
in St.. Louis and Chicago. Twenty years
of several visits a year, it really is hard to believe. We’d usually arrive before John made it home
from work, so Maryann greeted us at the door, fed us drinks and appetizers and
prepared a meal for us all. I’d say we
did this as many as fifty times over the years, and we’d only be there a matter
of minutes before Maryann would send forth one of those hoots of laughter that
were beyond description. Ah, but we had
fun and tonight I’m savoring all those moments.
Anyway, if anyone does write that book, just mention me in
the Foreword, won’t you?
