Margie Miskell

Margie's birthday was on December 18th, just a week before Christmas. And, of course, since the following week was Christmas, it was followed by New Year's Day. So, each year, we celebrated the birth of Margie, then the birth of Christ, then the birth of a new year. Margie always said special things come in threes.

Margie was born on December 18th, 1920 in Jersey City, New Jersey. Not many of the people I knew or met later knew Margie in her childhood years, so there is a large gap in our story about Margie's life. To my knowledge, Margie only attended regular school through the 8th grade. Another important thing in Margie’s childhood is that her "first" Dad died when he slipped and fell in the bathtub when she was five. He had a war injury from World War I that left metal shrapnel in his head and he had balance problems that most thought caused his fall.

I believe Margie attended secretarial school after graduating from the eighth grade. Since it was during the Depression Era and Margie was the oldest of five kids, she would have needed to get out into the work force as soon as possible. Margie had a younger sister and three younger brothers. Her younger sister, Millie, was born in 1922. Then came Buddy, born Frederick Boltz, in 1924, who died at age 18 onboard a ship that sank in the Pacific during World War II. His name is on the memorial wall in Hawaii. We know that because we took Margie to see the wall in 1989 when we went to Hawaii on vacation. That was the only time Margie went to Hawaii and I am so glad we were able to get her there. Seeing Buddy's name on the memorial wall was a special moment in her life.

Margie had two younger half brothers after Buddy was born. Alfie and Johnnie were sired by her "new" Dad, Alfred Penny. Both Alfie and Johnnie never married and died rather young in the mid to late 1960's. My George has some memories of his uncles from when he was young, but they had passed by the time I met Margie and George in 1978.

Margie worked as a stenographer secretary for several years. She lived close to her only beau, George Miskell, until they married on December 9th, 1941. She told me they were supposed to be married a few months later, but instead had a rushed wedding two days after the attack on Pearl Harbor because George was entering the Army and was to be stationed in Seattle.

“Big” George (as opposed to “my” George) was stationed in Bellevue outside of Seattle and Margie and George lived in Mr. & Mrs. Webster's house with the Fort pretty much in their back yard. Margie told us many stories of their life living with the Websters during the war. I remember her telling me that she knew all the markings on planes because the men were lookouts for possible attacking planes. She said sometimes the guys would be doing something and they would make the girls stand watch for a few minutes as lookout, so she had learned all the plane markings with George.

After the war was over, Margie and George returned home to New Jersey. They lived there for many years together. Margie loved to go to Atlantic City, because she used to tell me of how she was always bronzed from sunbathing on the Boardwalk. She never had learned how to swim, but used to go and stick her toes in the water. We have a lot of pictures of Margie sunbathing in Atlantic City and in her bathing suit at different locations. Margie and George clearly had many years of happy times before they had their son, George.

Margie gave birth to her son George on January 12th, 1960 in South Amboy, New Jersey. They lived there for twelve years before moving back to the Seattle area so that "big" George could be in a warmer climate due to his ill health. That is where they met Bob and Joyce Donald who taught Margie the apartment management business. Big George passed away on Father's Day in 1974. Margie became the sole living parent and breadwinner for her family and did an amazing job by becoming one of the best apartment complex managers ever known. She began as a leasing agent under Joyce's wing and then Margie and George moved to Southern California with Bob and Joyce in 1976.

It was in April of 1978 when I met "my" George at the Laurel Tree Apartments in San Pedro, CA. Margie and George lived there because Margie was their leasing agent. Margie went on to manage two other apartment complexes owned or managed by Bayco at the time. She first managed Camino de Oro in Torrance, CA in the late 1970's and then Copa Triana (also in Torrance) in the late 1980's. It was at Camino de Oro where Margie met and became close friends with Rita and Dennis Orme. Rita was Margie's assistant manager at Camino de Oro. Then, when Margie moved to the Copa Triana complex in the late 1980's, Rita and Dennis became the managers at Camino de Oro. Many years later, after Rita's husband passed away, Rita moved in with Margie and they were "housemates" for four years until just a little over a year ago. I must interject a special thanks to Rita for living with Margie those four years and looking after her. Margie had always been quite fit and capable, but even Margie slowed down by the time she was 89 years old. Rita moved back to the Torrance area to be closer to her family, but still called Margie at least once a day until the day she died. Now that's a friendship! Thanks Rita! You're a very special lady and I'm sure Margie is smiling down on you in agreement.

So, back to the 1980's when Margie was managing apartments and George and I were graduating from college and settling down in Westwood (right by UCLA). Margie continued to work for Bayco managing apartments and training new managers. George and I married in May, 1987 in Las Vegas. We were frequent visitors to that gambling Mecca. Margie, in particular, was fantastic to watch as she gambled. She would only play the quarter machines because she said her George was watching (from above) and she didn't want him to think she was greedy. Margie could usually make enough money to pay for our trip, and at worst, break even. She would "work" three machines at once and stand in front of the middle one feeding the quarters in by hand and pulling the arm of the machine. Each of the machines would take turns paying off fairly large amounts. Margie used to tell me the machines called to her. I think she was just teasing me, but whatever it was, it worked. She even won a progressive jackpot on a machine one year and went back the following year and hit the same machine again for the progressive amount. The casino had taken her picture the previous year and couldn't believe she hit the same machine again. Now what are the odds of that? If Margie says the machines talked to her, then I for one, believe her...

Then, in 1996, George and I moved to Irvine, CA. Margie, at age 75, was still managing the Copa Triana apartment complex in Torrance -about an hour drive away from us in Irvine. George was working at Broadcom by then and I started working at UC Irvine. In May of 2000, we moved Margie to Irvine to live near us because our precious Amanda was due to arrive in Mid June. Margie officially retired then from the apartment management business to become a full time Grandma! Margie moved into her home about a mile away from us in October 2000. She was a fantastic Grandma and helped me in so many ways. I never felt alone or overwhelmed in taking care of an infant and small baby because I had Margie there to help me. In retrospect, I think that might have been Margie's grandest role (pun intended). Margie was so incredibly proud of Amanda and all that Amanda has accomplished in her short life.

After Amanda was born and her really young years had passed, our family got interested in amateur astronomy. So, when Amanda was six, we got our first motor home. This is important in Margie's life because we took the first of our cross country trips in that motor home in summer 2007. Two years later, we bought another motor home (meant more for touring than telescope camping) and took another cross country trip. In the years that followed, we made many other trips in the RV's and brought Margie with us on most of those trips. In all, Margie traveled to the Grand Canyon (both North and South rims), Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone, Washington State, Niagara Falls, Carlsbad Caverns, the Meteor Crater, Lassen Volcanic National Park, Crater Lake, Natural Bridges, Lake Powell, Goblin State Park, Monument Valley, and probably more places I can't recall right now. Margie had never been to any of those places before in her life and became quite a RV traveler in her late eighties with us.

Margie passed peacefully in her sleep in her home on July 12th, 2015. She was 94 years young!

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

It isn’t possible to reduce a life—a life of 94-and-a-half years, no less—to a matter of words, no matter how eloquent. But it is possible, I’d like to think, to honor a life in so many words, and I suppose that’s what I’m trying to do. Now, the life in question was that of one of the most stubbornly independent, nurturing, generous, and compassionate women, I think, ever. We all knew her as Mom-Margie, Ma, Aunt Margie, Grandma Margie, and for good reason; though she only ever had one child, she was like a mother to many.

My dad only recently told me what a gardening enthusiast Margie had been before her husband passed and she reentered the workforce, and, in fact, the memory didn’t surprise me in the least. From as far back as I can remember up until her final days, her backyard had always been filled with colorful, well-tended plants and flowers, guarded by her myriad of frog figurines and pots, a rock turtle, and two rabbit sculptures which I used to regard as toys. Nearly every day she lived in that house, she would spend the early afternoon watering each of her potted plants, picking and sweeping leaves off the ground, and watching our small dog Lulu, who would often stay with her when we were away, run around in the grass. I realize now that it was in her nature—to nurture and care for a garden as well as she did for the people in her life.

What I know of my grandmother’s childhood, schooling, and early marriage I know only from her stories, and so I thought I’d share a few of my favorites to the best of my recollection. Now most of you are likely aware of this fact, but Margie was a complete butter fanatic. So much so that in the wake of incidents involving margarine and an unsuspecting Margie, likely duped by a more frugal relative, she has for decades inspected her butter carefully to confirm its legitimacy. When I was maybe five or six, she told me about the shenanigans she and her close friend Ceil would get into during the war in anticipation of the men’s furlough. Anyone who knows Margie can testify to her finesse in the kitchen, and to the remarkable nature of her signature dishes: mashed potatoes and cake. On one particular instance, a celebration was in order, be it for a birthday or George’s return home, and Margie, having had to produce large quantities of both mashed potatoes and cake, had run out of her allotted ration of butter. With just a few hours to spare, she and Ceil rushed down to the PX, and while shopping for other last minute items, Margie, unbeknownst to Ceil and the store’s owners, grabbed a stick of butter off the shelf and hid it in her coat. When, after they had left the store, Margie revealed the stolen butter to her friend, Ceil, being very religious, demanded they go immediately to confession. Once inside the church, they each took their places in the confessionals on either side of the priest, and Ceil relayed the story first, confessing that she had shoplifted a stick of butter. Upon hearing the same exact thing from his other side, Margie said the priest burst into laughter, at the sheer absurdity of it all. The best part is, after completing her penance Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s, she proceeded to return home and bake a cake with the stolen butter.

Margie’s 27-year career managing apartments began in Seattle as an assistant—and eventually lifetime friend—to Joyce and Bob Donald. I had the great fortune to meet Joyce twice before her passing in 2010—alongside Margie, in fact—thanks to a few of our family’s many road trips; the same road trips which took Margie all over the country in a 40-foot RV all between the ages of 87 and 93. Joyce could testify as well as any to the outstanding quality and endurance of a friendship with Margie. Then again, so could any of the 280+ recipients of Margie’s annual Christmas cards.

Anyhow, Margie was always well-known and well-respected among her tenants for being both a hard worker and a helping hand in times of need. And my dad tells me that she had always acted as a mother-figure to many of their children. The son of one of Margie’s tenants in Seattle’s Northwood complex and a very close friend of our family to this day, Jay Lillquist, had some words to say today as well.

“If an unborn baby could think, it would be afraid of birth. To leave the only world it has known would seem a kind of death. But immediately after birth the child finds itself in loving arms, showered with affection, and cared for at every moment. Surely the baby would say, ‘This is a beautiful life.’ Passing through death is really a birth into a new and better world. Margie now lives in a world beautiful, beyond anything we can imagine. Her life is not ended, but merely changed. Rest in peace, Mom-Margie.” We love you. Thank you.