My friend Lisa [Walterskirchen] asked me about my first memory of Margie, and I don’t think I have one. It was more like she [Margie] was always there. She was this calm woman with well coiffed hair, who would do fun things with us, i.e., me, my brothers and sisters.
Sometimes she would take us to play on the swings at Madison Park [in Seattle]; other times we would feed the ducks or just take a “spin” in her car. Margie would give us joy with the small things.
Margie was always so calm, I thought that she was my mother’s younger sister. She was actually 13 years older.
Over the next 30 years or so, Margie was always there. Then in maybe 1999, when she was 83, we started walking Greenlake. 2.8 miles just to get around the lake, plus walking to and from my car to get to the lake.
I remember one time, we ran into a woman she knew. The woman said: “Margie I’m so proud of you.” And Margie said: “I’m so proud of me too.”
During one of our first walks around the lake, Margie asked me if I had ever smoked. I remember thinking in my mind, “I can’t answer this question, she’s my aunt!” But, she had asked it in such a nonjudgmental way, I answered. We were both glad that I had never really got started. I think it was at this point, I started to realize she was not just my aunt, she was becoming my friend.
Another thing about walking around Greenlake, Margie liked to count the dogs. The rule was that we couldn’t count the same dog twice. We would start out strong, but always get off count by the end of the walk.
By maybe 2003, Margie’s memory had faded so that she could no longer count the dogs or live by herself. My mother moved her to a retirement home in Bellevue Washington. I told Margie that I would bring her back to her church in Seattle every other week so that she could see her old friends. This was the beginning of the next part of our relationship.
For maybe a year, I brought her to mass at St. Bridget’s every other week. I got to meet you and experience your parish. I especially remember Octoberfest - Margie and I did the chicken dance.
As you may know, Margie was also a great volunteer. She served cookies at the Blood Bank. She worked the information desk at Providence Hospital. She visited families at Children’s Hospital. She visited me at Group Health [Hospital] when I was ill.
Her calm and gentle manner, her smile, would make it all seem better.
And this was true to nearly the end of her life. About two months ago, I was leaving the nursing home in Issaquah where she lived. She had a diagnosis of “end stage Alzheimers.” She couldn’t walk anymore, she didn’t move her arms and she didn’t really talk. From an objective standpoint, some people would say, “nothing’s there.”
That night, a new aide came up to me. She was kind of excited. “Your aunt,” she said. “The energy from your aunt, it’s so positive.” Margie was still doing it; her calm and gentle manner was making it all seem better.
So I think a point of Margie’s life is that you don’t have to be superman or president to have a complete life or make a difference in people’s lives. And we can too.
During one of our first walks around the lake, Margie asked me if I had ever smoked. I remember thinking in my mind, “I can’t answer this question, she’s my aunt!” But, she had asked it in such a nonjudgmental way, I answered. We were both glad that I had never really got started. I think it was at this point, I started to realize she was not just my aunt, she was becoming my friend.
Another thing about walking around Greenlake, Margie liked to count the dogs. The rule was that we couldn’t count the same dog twice. We would start out strong, but always get off count by the end of the walk.
By maybe 2003, Margie’s memory had faded so that she could no longer count the dogs or live by herself. My mother moved her to a retirement home in Bellevue Washington. I told Margie that I would bring her back to her church in Seattle every other week so that she could see her old friends. This was the beginning of the next part of our relationship.
For maybe a year, I brought her to mass at St. Bridget’s every other week. I got to meet you and experience your parish. I especially remember Octoberfest - Margie and I did the chicken dance.
As you may know, Margie was also a great volunteer. She served cookies at the Blood Bank. She worked the information desk at Providence Hospital. She visited families at Children’s Hospital. She visited me at Group Health [Hospital] when I was ill.
Her calm and gentle manner, her smile, would make it all seem better.
And this was true to nearly the end of her life. About two months ago, I was leaving the nursing home in Issaquah where she lived. She had a diagnosis of “end stage Alzheimers.” She couldn’t walk anymore, she didn’t move her arms and she didn’t really talk. From an objective standpoint, some people would say, “nothing’s there.”
That night, a new aide came up to me. She was kind of excited. “Your aunt,” she said. “The energy from your aunt, it’s so positive.” Margie was still doing it; her calm and gentle manner was making it all seem better.
So I think a point of Margie’s life is that you don’t have to be superman or president to have a complete life or make a difference in people’s lives. And we can too.
Thank you. [text slightly updated 01/12/25]
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Memorial Service
St. Bridget Church
4900 NE 50th
Seattle WA 98105
March 27, 2008
