A Nod to My Friend, Mary Kay

Ten years ago, it was a dog and geography that brought Mary Kay Kreikemeier and me together. And, really, it was only the geography that we shared, although--for years to come--Mary Kay would go on to provide treats and poop bags to my family pets.  

You can imagine why, after that first driveway meeting with Mary Kay, I forever altered the route of my daily dog walks.  Who among us would pass up a chance to spend a little time with Mary Kay?  Under her spell, I became like a child, forever hungry to play with my neighborhood friend, never once considering that my unending knocks on her side door might be intrusive.

That's because Mary Kay always opened the door to me.  

True, there were times when I walked through that door and thought I was on the set of Little House on the Prairie--her kitchen counters covered in freshly-sealed jars of homemade salsa or just-out-of-the-oven fruit pies.  And always in quantities that boggled the mind.  

The fact that she always let me in, though?  That  was Mary Kay's magic--this ability to open doors and meet us where we were. And even though there were a thousand things that Mary Kay had mastered that I would never do particularly well, if at all--mothering and baking and living in Africa and volunteering and driving a bus come to mind--I never felt unworthy around her.  She just made me feel more...me.  


Mary Kay Kreikemeier's arrow always pointed outward, towards those people and things and ideas that she enthusiastically encountered.  She was a tender of fires, stoking her kids' passions, helping an elderly neighbor find a new dog, picking the perfect book for a young reader.  And we are all better for having had Mary Kay stoke the fires in our  lives.

I think that this rare quality of hers is one reason her kids walk on such solid ground.

As I ponder how to make my way through this life without my regular “Mary Kay” fixes,  I am heartened by the reverberating influences of that life lived so large.  How many of her family members and friends, for instance, have I come to know and love in this last chapter of her life?   And I know that, because of Mary Kay, I will open my own door for someone who has wandered my way. . . .although I may not let them in the kitchen.

I love you, my dear friend.  And I do not doubt that—right now—you are standing on your heavenly driveway—fresh-baked kolaches in hand--greeting a group of celestial neighbors and happily meeting them right where they are.

People, Places and Things...My Kind of Nouns

Barbra Streisand, who (ironically) has a lifelong case of stage fright, had it right.  People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.  That's certainly how I felt about my Fourth of July yesterday.   And, if I may throw in a tenuous reference to an observation C.S. Lewis made about the genius of Catholic parishes, there is something pretty wonderful about finding joy in the people you have no say in choosing--your family and your neighbors. 

Beyond savoring the smoked ribs and the surprisingly long-lasting Blue Angel fountain ($1.29 from Crazy Cracker), it was the people who made this Fourth especially enjoyable for me, and I have daughter Allison to thank for getting that ball rolling.  Her suggestion to bring together the Holts and the Raglins (unlike, say, gathering the Capulets and Montagues or the Jets and the Sharks) was a great one, in part, because everyone plays so well together.

While Martha Stewart might choke on a palate-cleansing spoonful of sorbet to hear me admit this (and, really, would it be such a bad thing for her to choke just a little?), my one gift as a host comes wrapped in a proverbial brown paper bag--I keep it simple.  Mostly, I keep it simple because I lack the skills to do otherwise.  But I tell myself that if the point is to gather and to enjoy that time together, a simple approach (you bring something, I bring something, then we sit down, eat and talk about it) really is the best approach.

. . . and having family members who truly enjoy each other guarantees that things will always work out well in the end.  Of course, good food, decent weather, paper plates, and a friendly Ladder Golf competition (with  prizes!) didn't hurt our chances either!

The neighborly followup was equally low-key and enjoyable.  It is amazing, the magnetic power of a city-owned sidewalk.  Drawn to it like moths to flame, as the sun set, we each made our way to the others, with promise of cold drinks, simple snacks,  and just enough fireworks and glowing punks to guarantee a short show. 

I'd be hard pressed to choose better folks than the ones I gathered with last night.

Long into their lives, I think that my children will hold dear this image of folding chairs and friendly banter, punctuated by short bursts of Crayola-flecked fountains and whirling dervishes, the happy embrace of good people come together and a warm summer's night holding us all close.