After our reunion in 2003, Marsha had a series of surgeries to correct various bone degenerations. These resulted from her quack of a "doctor" over-prescribing Prednisone to combat eosinophilic penumonia that we think she contracted from the fumes from new carpeting that was installed in our house. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had had a lumpectomy before that reunion. Soon after the reunion, she had a recurrence and had a mastectomy and breast reconstruction. In June of 2006 she went in for a routine check-up and the oncologist told us that the cancer had metastasized into her liver and bones. She died in November 2006 with me and our son Michael at her side.
We had memorial services for her at the Anglican church in Ojai, CA, that she attended regularly, and at her extended family's beach home overlooking Puget Sound and the Olympics in Indianola, WA. Her ashes were scattered near the house and in the Sound, the two places that she loved most in this world.
This is the eulogy that I read at one of those services:
Among Marsha’s many endearing traits, I’d like to recall four of them. The first was her amazing persistence and physical resilience. During her adult life, she had almost 30 surgeries of varying degrees of seriousness and she suffered a succession of illnesses and injuries over the past 15 years. Her public persona was brave, but there many private times when her sense of unfairness about her own situation, her anger, her depression erupted. “I’m tired of being strong, of being brave, of being an inspiration to others, of being a fighter. I just want to be WELL.”
Marsha had a lot of grit and sense of adventure. I had been teaching at The Thacher School in Ojai, California, for only a few weeks when Marsha went with me on a weekend horse camping trip. It’s a good 5- or 6-hour trip, riding from the school, over the Topa Topa ridge, down into the valley of the Sespe River. I had been learning to ride and had been riding daily since our arrival, but Marsha had had only the briefest of introductions. She was assigned to ride Harry because, we were told, “Harry will get you there and bring you back, no matter what happens.” Well, he did, but Harry had only one speed—slow. Marsha urged Harry to pick up the pace in every way she had been shown, but Harry was oblivious. Every time Marsha tried to curry her horse, or help pack or unpack, or cook, 6 gallant boys, all hoping to impress a beautiful woman barely 10 years older than they, immediately took everything out of her hands. She was treated like a queen. It still amazes me how excited Marsha was to take on that trip with as little riding experience as she had.
Another situation I remember was when we were living near Seattle. Marsha drove 70 miles round trip every day from our apartment to the school where she was teaching in Bellevue, often when winds were high in the winter and our little VW Beetle could barely stay in its lane on the Lake Washington floating bridge. One of Marsha’s colleagues, who was an ex-nun, rode with her. Once, the storm was so bad that the State Patrol closed the bridge right after Marsha crossed it. During that crossing, as Marsha was trying the see through the spray and waves that broke over the bridge and steer the little Beetle in a reasonably straight line, ex-sister Anne began to pray earnestly—and loudly—for their safe deliverance to the Seattle side of the lake, a story which Marsha told excitedly without a hint that she had been at all nervous.
The second trait was her touchingly naïve sense that life should be fair, that bad things should not happen to good people. Some aspects of her life and her death are ample proof that that is not the case.
The third was her sense of fashion. Some would call it vanity, some would call it just trying to look your best. Marsha never left the house without the hat, earrings, pin, watchband, top, or blouse or sweater, scarf, belt and skirt or dress, bracelet, tassel on the socks, and shoes and handbag matching.
And the fourth was her generosity of spirit and empathy, shown in the gifts, short notes, cards and long letters that she sent, not only on special occasions but also when she just wanted to brighten someone’s day. She especially identified with people much younger and much older than she. During one particularly difficult blood draw, from which she emerged with multiple bruises, the new, young technician tried multiple pokes, with no success. Marsha kept reassuring the poor girl and telling her how sorry she felt for the trouble she was having. The tech was closer to tears than Marsha was. For a number of years, with the Humane Society’s Pet Therapy Program, she took dogs and cats to residents of the local convalescent homes and maintained strong friendships with a number of people whom she knew would reach the end of their lives there.
The last time I saw Marsha, I sat next to her at a UW game, after we had already graduated. We had a nice chat and caught up on common acquaintances. I am so sorry to hear of her health struggles and her passing. She and I were in home room and Ti Girls together. My condolences to her family.
Roger Klausler
After our reunion in 2003, Marsha had a series of surgeries to correct various bone degenerations. These resulted from her quack of a "doctor" over-prescribing Prednisone to combat eosinophilic penumonia that we think she contracted from the fumes from new carpeting that was installed in our house. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had had a lumpectomy before that reunion. Soon after the reunion, she had a recurrence and had a mastectomy and breast reconstruction. In June of 2006 she went in for a routine check-up and the oncologist told us that the cancer had metastasized into her liver and bones. She died in November 2006 with me and our son Michael at her side.
We had memorial services for her at the Anglican church in Ojai, CA, that she attended regularly, and at her extended family's beach home overlooking Puget Sound and the Olympics in Indianola, WA. Her ashes were scattered near the house and in the Sound, the two places that she loved most in this world.
This is the eulogy that I read at one of those services:
Among Marsha’s many endearing traits, I’d like to recall four of them. The first was her amazing persistence and physical resilience. During her adult life, she had almost 30 surgeries of varying degrees of seriousness and she suffered a succession of illnesses and injuries over the past 15 years. Her public persona was brave, but there many private times when her sense of unfairness about her own situation, her anger, her depression erupted. “I’m tired of being strong, of being brave, of being an inspiration to others, of being a fighter. I just want to be WELL.”
Diane Boone
The last time I saw Marsha, I sat next to her at a UW game, after we had already graduated. We had a nice chat and caught up on common acquaintances. I am so sorry to hear of her health struggles and her passing. She and I were in home room and Ti Girls together. My condolences to her family.
Diane Boone