I read the following at the memorial service for Mardell Hicks, my mother-in-law on June 2, 2011. In the words of Pastor Davis, "Altzheimer's sucks." May these words serve to remind all of us of our Mardell - pre-disease.
If you were helping to raise money for a charity and someone agreed to make a large contribution if you would perform at the upcoming fundraising show, what would you perform?
These were the kinds of questions awaiting you when you sat down on the couch beside Mardell Hicks. Some people might call this being nosy. But anyone in Mardell's presence knew they were the questions of a master -- a master of the art of conversation.
No one I knew could ask more interesting questions. And, yes, her questions were nosy. They were designed to get to know you; to explore the depths of your personality. The reason no one had any difficulty sharing was because inherent in Mardell's style was a sincere enjoyment of people. She would listen. She would listen without judgment. And she would enjoy you for exactly who you were.
This skill apparently started early. Gene reports that while Mardell was a Home Economics teacher at Centre High School, students would take their troubles to her and receive a friendly ear and an interested and engaged mind. It extended even to her enemies -- to a man who beat her and who held her captive for over four hours. When most of us would have hated, Mardell chose to love. She spoke frankly with him about his drug addiction as only she could, and she opened up an opportunity to pray with him.
"Shower the People You Love With Love," sings James Taylor. No one did that like Mardell. And, like being in a shower, when you left Mardell's side, you felt refreshed, better, happier. When you were blessed to know Mardell and fortunate to be in her presence, you could relax and be yourself -- completely at ease. This is the essence of the grace of God, is it not? In Mardell's presence, you could, for a tiny moment, experience that grace first hand.
Mardell's love for you wrapped you like a warm blanket. A mother of four, Laura said that her mother had a way of making each child feel special. She said that this talent was the source of a running joke in their family where Laura, Mary, Ross and Matt would each swear on a stack of Bibles that they were their mother's favorite. Well, I've got news for you, Laura. I happen to believe that I was your mother's favorite.
Mardell loved her family, sisters, husband, children and grandchildren fiercely, deeply. For them, she was available -- to talk, to cry, to watch movies, to sing, to dance, to play Play-Doh, to play cars, to play games. Mardell was "about" the people around her. The people around her felt the depth of that love.
And then, of course, there was the food. From almost the very first time that I met my husband, I heard about Mardell's food. He and his sisters tell stories about smelling cookies baking in the oven from the school playground. (When the family lived in Winfield, their house was right across the street from Whittier Elementary.) A Home Economics teacher to the core, Mardell would cook up a "light lunch" of Sloppy Joe's, a quick roast beef dinner, or have a special loaf of your favorite banana bread waiting for you when you arrived off the road.
Mardell's food made her irresistible. Gene tells that he would literally follow his nose to the Home Economics room where his music files, fresh baked cookies, coffee and Mardell were waiting. The 1958-59 yearbook picture of the engaged couple had the caption "Probably the most lasting Centre relationship to hold." They were right. Mardell and Gene would have been married 52 years this May 31. Gene remembers fondly Mardell's last words to him after he told her goodnight before he left the hospital -- "Good night, dear." It was a relationship born of cookies and built to last.
Mardell enjoyed magical feasts of all kinds. One of her favorite tasks was preparing the elements for communion on Sunday with her grandsons Luke and Ben. Gene recalled that she would carefully pour the wine into the individual communion glasses. As she did, she and the boys would name each person in the congregation and fill one cup especially with that person in mind. Mardell joyfully accepted the privilege of being God's hands and added to even mundane tasks her extra special serving of love.
Preparing and serving food was Mardell's way to communicate how much she loved you. From making her children's very favorite foods on request, regularly stocking the infamous DD drawer, sending food care packages to her kids in college, feeding neighborhood children and college friends, to feeding church members -- food was a way to get people to sit around a table, spend a few moments, laugh and enjoy being together.
One of Laura's friends, Steve Brazil, summed things up best when he wrote on Facebook: "Sloppy Joe and Frito stand moved. Better location. Primo lease."
As for me, what I loved most about Mardell was her playful spirit. I fell in love with it when I met and married her son, Ross. I discovered it's roots when I met Mardell.
We would be on the floor at her house, playing with the kids and cars. Mardell would be watching with that smile and twinkle -- the one that meant something was afoot. Suddenly you would notice something different about the little bus that had been in the car stash for months. There was something new, something you couldn't quite place. You picked it up to examine it more closely and then you would laugh...the good, healthy, belly laugh that came from a pleasant surprise. For there, cut and taped on the bus window was a tiny picture of Mardell's face!
I was also fascinated by the fact that here was a woman, older than my parents, who freely admitted to loving rock and roll. I asked each family member what was Mardell's favorite song. Laura and Mary came up with songs by the Carpenters, Burt Bacharach, and Paul Williams. Gene mentioned popular musicals and standards from the 40s. Ross and Matt - without hesitation - both said, "Bat Out of Hell." THAT was my Mardell.
Mardell loved to laugh. She laughed out loud. She laughed so hard she would cry. She loved laughing with her sisters, Jeanne and Deaun. She loved recounting stories of childhoods and family times spent at Lake Kahola because the memories made her laugh. She especially loved laughing with Luke, Ben, Sam, Isaac and Sophia. And, when others were laughing around her, she loved to watch -- basking in the energy, the joy, and the love that laughter creates. I loved laughing with Mardell. It is something I will always remember and something that I will always cherish.
Through conversation, through food, and through laughter, Mardell spent her life sharing her abundant store of love with others. Laura shared that when she was a child, Mardell would often squeeze her hand three times....I...Love...You. When they would go for a walk, she would give Laura that special squeeze, with that special twinkle in her eyes and Laura knew she was loved. It's a trick she did with all of her children, another one of those numerous little ways she communicated her love.
Toward the end of Mardell's life, words would elude her, cooking was difficult, and laughter didn't come easy. The last time Laura was with Mardell, she tucked her into bed, said good night and gave her mom the hand squeeze that had meant so much...I....Love....You. And Mardell squeezed back....I....Love....You. She was a giver of love to the very end.
