Remembrance of Mary Flynn, Former Stockbridge Selectwoman

by Carole Owens

Mary Veronica Flynn was a spinster, teetotaler, teacher, devout Catholic, and politician: if there ever was a woman who was greater than the sum of her parts, it was Miss Flynn. Mary was funny. She could tell you "which trees make shingles" without making you mad. She could explain that she could not vote for you while simultaneously making you believe that she wished you well and valued you as a person. She was a shameless flatterer, yet no one dismissed her compliments. Everyone walked a little taller around Mary because they felt better about themselves. She called it her empathy, her ability to compliment you, to see in you, that thing you wished in your heart of hearts was true. Mary was loved.

Contrary to what some thought, Mary did take advice from others. Two pieces resonated for her all her life. Her mother taught her: give a good dog a bone and a bad dog two bones. An elementary school teacher she admired told her: don't bother being friends with the popular kids, they won't value it; embrace the lonely, and they will be grateful for life. The second was easy to understand and to watch her do; it took all thirty years of our friendship before I understood the first.

We all hide our foibles and our failures — not Mary. She told you everything — the rough and the smooth. Her life was an open book. It made interesting conversation, a chance to laugh or cry with her. Furthermore, it made her the consummate politician.

"Never," she advised, "let anyone else tell your story." She broke the story, and she controlled it.

Like all politicians, she loved to fight. She called it a debate, and it was never personal. Like a good politician, she thanked everyone for every favor, compliment, gift, kindness, and helping hand. She methodically repaid them by thanking them publicly. Mary was simply the greatest politician in a time when that word was not a pejorative.

My son was a special love of hers, and like all spinsters, she wanted him married. When I told her about his engagement, she was weak and in pain, facing her own mortality. When she heard about the engagement, her whole face lit up and she said, "Things are falling into place."

Yes, Mary, you are old and sick and leaving us, but you are deeply and genuinely happy because my son found love. That was why Mary was so loved: "in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make."

The last words she said to me were "maybe later as the afternoon wears on." I asked her if I could get her anything and her answer was maybe later, but there will be no later. "Bye Mary I love you." How many times did I say that in thirty years? I don't know, but this time, the last time, I will not hear her say, "Goodbye my girl, I love you too."

Former Select Board member Mary Flynn.