Editorial: The Characters Who Formed Stockbridge Character

Have you ever thought about how many schoolteachers stepped in and served our Town? Terry Flynn, Jack Spencer, John Beacco, and the one closest to me, but Miss Mary Doesn't Live Here Anymore.

6:26 A.M. July 19, 2013, Mary Veronica Flynn died. In the intervening nine years people still ask — "What would Mary say? What would Mary do?" Mary was clear, sure, open, and right.

Our elderly lay alone in half-lit rooms waiting to die. The only sound is the TV — an imitation of people gathering. As Mary lay dying there were friends, flowers, gifts, cards, the constant slamming of the screen door and ringing of telephone as friends checked in.

"And in the end...the love you take is equal to the love you make."

Spinster, teetotaler, Catholic, teacher, proselytizer, and politician: if there ever was a woman who was greater than the sum of her parts, it was Miss Mary. Neither the single descriptor, nor the total description was why she was so loved.

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," - the ability to compliment you for that thing you wished in your heart were true.

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. Her elementary school teacher 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; it took all whole thirty years of our friendship before I understood the first.

We all hide our foibles and our failures. We are a country of liars and deniers - not Mary. She told you everything — the rough and the smooth. It made her open, honest, and the greater truth? It made her the consummate politician. She controlled the story; she brought us along on her journey.

Like all politicians, she loved to argue and debate, and it was never personal — never. Mary though that is how we reach the best decision.

She thanked everyone. She meant it; she never forgot a gift, a kindness, a helping hand. Even years later, she methodically repaid every kindness. Mary believed that was the soul of politics and Mary was simply the greatest politician in a time before that word was a pejorative.

What would Mary say? She would see what you did or listen to what you planned and say, "That's not Stockbridge" with a teacher's disapproving look, or she would say, "That's Stockbridge" with warm approval.

The last time we spoke, I told her about my son's engagement. He was a special love of hers, and like all good spinsters, she wanted him married. She fantasized about finding a girl for him. She was in some pain, weak, and facing her own mortality, but 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" but on that day there was no later.

Carole Owens
Executive Editor

Editor's note: this is over long, but Miss Mary always deserved more.

Spring suprise. Photo: Lionel Delevingne