For Mary
Earlier today, I regret to inform, a member of the tribe past was lost. Mary Campbell Nir was a truly wonderful person, and that's not just nostalgia talking either. I knew her when she was a kid, but her qualities were felt and enhanced as she went towards adulthood. Not even the most talented of writers of trashy books or soap operas could have come up with her life story, and her story should be remembered.
Mary was an adopted child. If this story about her adoption and discovery is true or if some of this is myth and legend, perhaps, but this was the story I was told. Baby Mary was found in the back of a church in a laundry basket somewhere on the west side of Cleveland one day in 1978 (or thereabouts). The only documentation about her birth came in the form of a hand written note from her birth mother, explaining how and why this came to be. According to the fabled note, Mary's birth mother and father were college students who were no longer together and Mary's birth mother had decided to severe all ties with the plea that someone will adopt her and give her a good home. The only clues left to the identity of her birth mother were that she signed the note with a first name only, and wrote as a post script that since her birth mother was a severe Type 1 diabetic and to check out Mary because she may be as well. Sure enough, Mary was diagnosed as such when she was an infant soon after. Any and all other attempts to locate or identify her birth parents have either never been attempted nor mentioned.
Mary was lucky enough to have been adopted by parents who did, in fact, give her a good home. They were working class who barely made enough to float them each month. She told me there were times that they only had popcorn and Kool-Aid for dinner some nights, but as luck would have it, she and my sister became friends when they were in grade school together (hence how I knew her). It seemed even when kids are at their most self centered and demanding, Mary was never one of those. She was truly the diamond in the rough, the one who never complained or whined about how and why things were as they were, never blamed another, and never used her unstable sickness as a reason or excuse as to how and why things could not be done. It was because of my sister that she first heard of my high school (which my sister would eventually attend behind me, a private girls' school on the east side) and followed in her path there. While their stories began to diverge from that point, so did mine with hers. I would hear a tale here and there of her being there, and found that she was so happy that this had given her purpose and method.
It saddens me when my last high school experience (which was just last year for the twentieth reunion) left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Someone had promised to host a party for all those in my class coming in for the reunion and its events; and, in a classic, bratty move, threw a tantrum and cancelled the whole thing barely twenty four hours before the event without apology or excuse. Granted, this gal was and remains utterly one of the biggest assholes I have ever met in my life (and that's saying a lot), but for her polar opposite, one would just have to look towards Mary. One alum shared this story, which I didn't know existed until just today. She said one day in high school, Mary approached her with an envelope. Mary said that she had gotten into her first choice of college and that the other gal could use the money that she saved for other application fees for her applications. There was probably someone nearby who was throwing a tantrum because she only had one car to drive or because she had only been to Europe once that year. Who would do that? Especially in a hostile world of the self centered teenager.
Mary went onto things that most of us only dream of. She went to Harvard, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and then onto Georgetown Law. She had been living in New York City for the last several years and had taken on some wonderful, high powered job (of which I know nothing about). And then, just as life was so good, it was taken away. According to accounts, her mom came to visit the weekend before and left on Sunday. A friend called on Monday evening asking if she would be coming to a party he was hosting. He would be the last person to talk to her. When she did not show up for work on Tuesday, a coworker came to her apartment to check up on her and found that she had died in her sleep. No cause of death has been released as of now. I think her poor body just couldn't take things anymore. Always plagued with a variety of health problems coupled with the wear and tear of Type 1 Diabetes, I think Mary's system just shut off for good. She was 36.
I had not seen Mary in over twenty years, I remember her as a child who had not yet hit puberty yet rather than the adult she would eventually become. She was a true treasure, the diamond in the rough, who was never owed or entitled to things because she was poor or suffering from her sickness. Humble, without the slightest bit of anger or attitude against those around her. She only wanted to give to others without being too needy, pushy or expecting something in return for her efforts. Just when life was getting started, she dies. Tragic.
Blue skies wherever you are, Mary. There is less sunshine in the world because you are not with us anymore.
Mary was an adopted child. If this story about her adoption and discovery is true or if some of this is myth and legend, perhaps, but this was the story I was told. Baby Mary was found in the back of a church in a laundry basket somewhere on the west side of Cleveland one day in 1978 (or thereabouts). The only documentation about her birth came in the form of a hand written note from her birth mother, explaining how and why this came to be. According to the fabled note, Mary's birth mother and father were college students who were no longer together and Mary's birth mother had decided to severe all ties with the plea that someone will adopt her and give her a good home. The only clues left to the identity of her birth mother were that she signed the note with a first name only, and wrote as a post script that since her birth mother was a severe Type 1 diabetic and to check out Mary because she may be as well. Sure enough, Mary was diagnosed as such when she was an infant soon after. Any and all other attempts to locate or identify her birth parents have either never been attempted nor mentioned.
Mary was lucky enough to have been adopted by parents who did, in fact, give her a good home. They were working class who barely made enough to float them each month. She told me there were times that they only had popcorn and Kool-Aid for dinner some nights, but as luck would have it, she and my sister became friends when they were in grade school together (hence how I knew her). It seemed even when kids are at their most self centered and demanding, Mary was never one of those. She was truly the diamond in the rough, the one who never complained or whined about how and why things were as they were, never blamed another, and never used her unstable sickness as a reason or excuse as to how and why things could not be done. It was because of my sister that she first heard of my high school (which my sister would eventually attend behind me, a private girls' school on the east side) and followed in her path there. While their stories began to diverge from that point, so did mine with hers. I would hear a tale here and there of her being there, and found that she was so happy that this had given her purpose and method.
It saddens me when my last high school experience (which was just last year for the twentieth reunion) left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Someone had promised to host a party for all those in my class coming in for the reunion and its events; and, in a classic, bratty move, threw a tantrum and cancelled the whole thing barely twenty four hours before the event without apology or excuse. Granted, this gal was and remains utterly one of the biggest assholes I have ever met in my life (and that's saying a lot), but for her polar opposite, one would just have to look towards Mary. One alum shared this story, which I didn't know existed until just today. She said one day in high school, Mary approached her with an envelope. Mary said that she had gotten into her first choice of college and that the other gal could use the money that she saved for other application fees for her applications. There was probably someone nearby who was throwing a tantrum because she only had one car to drive or because she had only been to Europe once that year. Who would do that? Especially in a hostile world of the self centered teenager.
Mary went onto things that most of us only dream of. She went to Harvard, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and then onto Georgetown Law. She had been living in New York City for the last several years and had taken on some wonderful, high powered job (of which I know nothing about). And then, just as life was so good, it was taken away. According to accounts, her mom came to visit the weekend before and left on Sunday. A friend called on Monday evening asking if she would be coming to a party he was hosting. He would be the last person to talk to her. When she did not show up for work on Tuesday, a coworker came to her apartment to check up on her and found that she had died in her sleep. No cause of death has been released as of now. I think her poor body just couldn't take things anymore. Always plagued with a variety of health problems coupled with the wear and tear of Type 1 Diabetes, I think Mary's system just shut off for good. She was 36.
I had not seen Mary in over twenty years, I remember her as a child who had not yet hit puberty yet rather than the adult she would eventually become. She was a true treasure, the diamond in the rough, who was never owed or entitled to things because she was poor or suffering from her sickness. Humble, without the slightest bit of anger or attitude against those around her. She only wanted to give to others without being too needy, pushy or expecting something in return for her efforts. Just when life was getting started, she dies. Tragic.
Blue skies wherever you are, Mary. There is less sunshine in the world because you are not with us anymore.
Thanks for sharing this; sincerest condolences for your loss.
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