Everyone Should Have A Marion, the end.

The woman in this picture with me is Marion Elizabeth Pantzer. It was taken at the going away party she had for me when I joined the Navy in 1983. She is one of the four pillars who held me up and made me the person i am today. God knew that i would need all of these parents to take care of me when I was little. My biological mother, Ricci, was there, but not available much, Marion came along with her parents, Adam and Bess. I called her my 'aunt', and her parents, my 'grandparents'. The story of how we became the modern American family is one that will take time to tell in this place. They gave me all the love I needed to grow up to be a happy, well adjusted person whom you have met here and hopefully in person. How many people can say that about their family? I am happy to tell you I can.

I am cutting to the chase on this post and telling all of you who have subscribed here, how I lost her, 35 years ago this coming March.

People of a certain age can tell you where they were when they heard the news that President Kennedy was shot. Others can tell you where they were when they heard the news that Elvis had died. Still others know where they were when the news came out in the OJ Simpson trial. I do know all of those things, to be sure, but how many of you know where you were on March 11, 1986. I can tell you exactly where I was: I was in my version of hell.

The old advertisement from the phone company went something like this " reach out and touch someone." Yes, that meant an actual phone call. I received the worst phone call in my life from my mother that day. Now for you to know how rare that was, you have to understand a bit of my backstory. Although I am an only child, I did not have a good relationship with my mother. But, fortunately for me, at a very young age the hand of God stepped in and provided me with the additional parents that this child would need to become the adult who is sitting here writing this story. His hand provided us with Marion Pantzer, and in addition, her loving parents, Adam and Bess. While my mother was busy working and traveling around the country, they were home with me. My father was not around either, he and my mother divorced when I was very young. I do have one picture of him, in my baby book, holding me. I have no memory of him.

Back to the relationship with my mother. It is hard to bond with someone who is not there with you when you need a mother. When you fall and hurt yourself, and need a bandage on your knee, where was your mother? Right there to fix it I bet. Not mine. When you are learning to write your letters and start school, your mother probably walked or drove you to school. Not mine. She was sleeping during the day and working at night. All my young life that was her routine. When we were all finally living together from 1956-1962, I would come home from school and she would be sitting in the dining room, putting on her makeup to go to work. My mother was an 'exotic dancer'. This was long before topless bars came on the scene. If you were to Google the name Ricci Cortez, you would see that she is one of the Queens of Burlesque. Yes, my mother was that woman. No wonder she was never home with me. She was busy making a name for herself.

When I needed guidance about homework, crushes on boys or getting my period, Marion or her mother, Bess were there for those answers. They were there every day giving me the stable childhood that so many wished they had when growing up. Adam was there for hugs, walks to church and cooking when Bess fell ill and could not do it anymore. See, God was taking care of me and giving me who I needed all the while.

When I left Houston in 1983 to join the Navy, some of the paperwork that I had to fill out was who to contact should something happen to me. You know, next of kin stuff. I of course listed my mother. But, in addition to her, there was this phrase "Loco Parentis". It means someone who is 'family' to you, but not blood related. I put Marion's name on that paperwork so that if something happened to me, she would be notified. I had no idea I would need it to be able to go home when she was killed in March of 1986.

I got the call from my mother after getting off of my shift, 10:30 pm to 6:30 am. I was living in the barracks on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, where I had been stationed since August of 1985. I was just getting ready to go to bed and there was a knock on the door from one of my neighbors.

"Carol, you have a phone call. The woman says she is your mother." The barracks phone was down the passage way and I ran to the phone, my heart beating out of my chest. As I said, a call from my mother was never going to be good news.

"Hello, this is Carol. Mom is that you?" What has happened. You would not have called me if things were ok."

" The worst thing you can imagine has happened, Marion is dead. She was shot and killed in the bar, last night. It was just before closing time. Frankie and Peaches had just left and I had left her there alone. Someone must have known she would be there after we left. She was shot in the chest, 6 times. Even though she had her gun out and shot the perp, she did not have a chance. As soon as I got home, the police came and told me what happened."

By this time, she was in tears and the next person on the phone was her roommate, Rita. She filled me in on more of the details of what happened and how. I dropped the phone and fell to the ground. Another of my neighbors saw me and went for help. My world had just collapsed in front of me and I could not even think. Marion was gone. I had just talked with her a few days before. I had just seen her when I was home on leave before being stationed in Hawaii. How can this be? I do not understand.

My mother got back on the phone and asked me how soon I could get home. They would not schedule the funeral until they knew when I would be in town. I told her I would call her back when I had more info. I was numb. I had to go back to work and tell my boss what happened and do all the paperwork necessary to use the "Loco Parentis" phrase to go home on leave for the funeral.

I called her back and told her I would be home in 2 days. That was the soonest I could get a flight from Hawaii to Houston. Now I had to go back to my barracks room and face the fact that I would not ever see her smiling face, ask her for advice or hear her laugh. I had her in my life for 30 years. Now what do I do? Oh God, how do I do this. How do I get on a plane and fly home to spend time with all of the people who knew Marion and how she touched their life, as we are about to have a funeral for her? It was unbearable. But one of the things she taught me was how to be strong when you need to and power through the worst of things until you reach the other side of it. When you lose a parent, or someone like a parent, you are never the same. A piece of me died that day. When Bess died, I was only 12, and she died in the hospital after having a heart attack. When Adam died, I was alone with him in the house that we had shared for so long. I was devastated. But when my North Star left me, I was bereft. Marion was the mother I needed when mine was not available. Now my birth mother was the only parent I had left in the world.

The funeral for Marion was the largest one that Landig Funeral Home had ever held. They had held Bess and Adam's funerals too. But when the person you are laying to rest is a pillar of the community, a person who has had a day named, honoring that person, the turnout was way beyond what they could have imagined. There was an overflow crowd and I remember seeing a screen set up out on the lawn so that they could see what was happening inside. I arrived early, to be able to 'talk' with her one last time. I kissed her cold cheek. The song that came to mind when I was standing there, was Bette Midler's Song,

"Wind Beneath My Wings', from the movie, Beaches. One of the lines in the song is " Did I ever tell you you're my hero, you are everything I wish I could be." Another goes, " I can fly higher than an eagle, you are the wind beneath my wings." Marion was all that to me and more.

As everyone was filing in to pay their respects, I saw all the people who were Marion and Ricci's friends. People who were often at our house for parties. Those who participated in the parties at the club, shows that went on the all the rest. My friends were there too, many of them having been at the club or at our house when a party of some sort was happening. Marion invited everyone in to her tent. She had room for everyone and they knew it. Many of those who got up to speak about how she changed their life echoed the same sentiment. Knowing Marion was in your orbit, made your world a better place. My best friend Jim sat next to me in the pew. I could not talk. I could not get up and tell everyone there how she had changed my life so much from such a young age. Another song comes to mind, thinking of her: Petula Clarks' song, " To Sir With Love". " How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?" That was what Marion had done for me, and so much more. After the funeral service was over, we sent a huge bouquet of balloons up to the sky. Afterwards when it came time to go to the cemetery, the closest people to our family joined us in the procession. But when it came time to stand there and lower her body in to the ground, I could not bear it. I had to leave. I could not bear having that be the last thing I would remember about this woman who helped make me the person I am today. There are days I can talk about her and remember her fondly about things she said or did. Other days I cannot talk about her without being a big pool of tears on the floor. Today is one of those days.

It is ok that I cry over losing Marion. It is ok for crying over losing any person who has made a major impact on your life, no matter how long that may have lasted. I remember when I was home for Marion's funeral my mother asked me a question. She wanted to know why I was going out and having dinner with my friends, while she was there alone.

I told her, " I am going out to be with my friends, because they knew Marion, too. We will laugh about her and cry about losing her. We will honor her memory. " She asked me another question. " How will you feel when I die?" " I do not know" was my answer. I did not know it then and there are days now that I still do not know how I feel about losing my mother. She died in 2008. I did not find out about it until 2009. How do you miss someone you did not really know? Now all of my parents are gone and I do feel a bit like an orphan. But I have made new friends over the years, that fill the 'sister' or 'brother' role as need be.

Many of you who are reading this may have lost someone dear to you. Maybe because of what we lived through last year and still are today. I just wanted you to know that I feel it too, the loss and the sadness that comes from being alone in the world. Finding a way to honor that person is the best thing you can do. I collect clowns because Marion collected clowns. She wanted to be one when she was young. We always knew her that way. A smile on her face to hide whatever she was feeling at the time. But a steady shoulder to cry on when needed. See, everyone really does need a Marion. It is so true now more than ever.