Mary, this is a very personal goodbye, and thank you for living your life the way you did. Mary McCloskey was unforgettable to anyone who was lucky enough to have met her. I was lucky enough to meet her when I was 11. Mary’s daughter and I became lifelong friends. Patti and I had things in common; our fathers had died the year before we met, we were the only children at home, being raised by mom. The year was 1971, only six years after the last home economics books were published, teaching young girls such things as “when your husband gets home, he is work weary, and has been with work-weary people. Do not bring up your day; let him talk first”. Seriously! From the time I met her, Mary always spoke the truth, out loud, to your face.

Spending time with Mary McCloskey helped to delete the ill effects of those home economics books before they had a chance to reach me. I watched and learned as she interacted with people: sales staff, gas station attendants, the mayor. She treated all of them with respect, and always asked questions, lots of questions. I was part of a lucky group of young girls who got to spend time with Mary. We got to observe as Mary worked, earned her own money, then drove her own car to the store, and spent her money as she pleased, on her daughter. No one to consult, no waiting until next pay, or next check to get Patti what she needed. Fishtown was booming with jobs at the time. We had the Sugar House, Schmidt’s Brewery, and much industry. Everyone’s dad had a job. We had stay at home moms; we had never experienced such a thing. Mary was ahead of her time.

Mary McCloskey was a time-manager, and multi-tasker before the words even existed; saving trips back and forth to the diner’s kitchen by, literally, carrying plates up and down her arms – shoulder to finger tips. Mary worked as a waitress. She could serve a family of ten in two trips, and keep her tips flowing. When Patti told us about her wonder of a mom who could balance plates up her arms, we just had to see for ourselves. It was quite remarkable to observe. Some Saturdays, several of us, would ride the Market Frankford el with Patti, get off at Erie, and go to Mary’s place of employment – Linton’s Diner on Erie Avenue. We would order the kids menu, and get the attention of anyone Mary knew who walked through that door…you all know my daughter, Patti, and these are her friends. We would go near the end of her shift, and sometimes she would load us all in her car, and head to a clothing store, because Patti needed a few things. Way cool for us. We were getting to go somewhere else. Yay!

Mary was brave enough to tread where few adults would dare – into a room full of pre-teens. When there were not much for pre-teens to do on a Friday night in Fishtown, Mary (willingly) hosted the Friday night, pre-teen dances at the Fishtown Rec. We all looked forward to getting together and singing along to our favorite records, drinking sodas, eating snacks, and attempting to dance. This was really fun; some of us were so poor, we could not afford record players at home, and did not have houses big enough to invite friends over.

Mary was so much fun; she managed to raise a daughter who stayed out of trouble….while simultaneously staying friends with me. Amazing! When the whole neighborhood knew I got caught smoking, and later on, stealing socks from Kelly’s corner, Mary did not forbid her daughter from hanging out with me. She knew I had a “rough paper route” in life, and knew she and her daughter would have a good influence on me; you both did. Thank you Mary. On many a Saturday night, in our early and late teens, Patti would rather hang out with Mary than go out with us. Now, looking back, who could blame her? While we were all trying cigarettes, sneaking beers, and later sneaking over to Jersey – where the drinking age was 18; Patti was home, with her mom, laughing, and studying; with Mary she got to study life as well as calculus.

Mary loved to talk. Her grandchildren called her on the phone, several times a day, from the moment they could speak. Anything worth reporting would have to be told to “Nanny”. All “firsts” (and I mean all) were immediately called into “Nanny” who would listen, and question, with great interest. Further discussion of these “firsts” would take place the next time she saw them. Any and all of life’s questions could be answered by “Nan”, with wisdom, authority, and best of all, humor. Who needed an encyclopedia, or later the internet when there was Mary McCloskey?

Mary was one of those Fishtown moms you did not want to run into when you were doing something you were not supposed to be doing. She took responsibility for all of her “kids”, and told their moms exactly what they were up to — Thank you Mary. She worked behind the scenes on behalf of many of us, helping us get, and keep summer jobs, and keeping tabs on our work habits and attendance at these jobs. Any negative news, and there was Mary, in your face. Again, thank you Mary. Being born and raised in Fishtown, Mary was never of the mindset that anyone who lived in a “better” house or “better” neighborhood, was in any way better than she was. In fact, she realized early on, just the opposite was true. She imparted this wisdom to us, frequently, especially when we entered the work force. I wish I worked with a staff full of Mary McCloskeys. I have been in Corporate America for 30 years, and have sat in meetings listening to people drone on, often thinking to myself “what would Mary McCloskey have to say in the face of this?” If she were in charge, the banks would not be in the shape they are in; the truth would have been told years ago.

I watched Mary age. She took total advantage of this aging thing, and continued to speak her mind, constantly. One of hundreds of examples came at age 88, when visiting a well-respected doctor at Pennsylvania Hospital, Mary stole everyone’s heart. To the 40ish, breathtakingly handsome doctor she says “Wow! You’re really cute, I liiiiike you”. The doctor smiles, playing along. “Mary, I am very sorry, but I am married”. The nurses politely chuckled. Mary pauses, smiles big, and loudly replies, “Yeah…., but do you cheeeeeeeat?” The entire staff fell on the floor laughing. This doctor is one of the best looking men a person could meet in real life, and greatly regarded in his field. Mary said out loud what any women alive had thought upon meeting him. Flashing her big blue eyes, in triumph, once again Mary spoke the truth, and she got away with it! We applaud you, Mary! Mary McCloskey retired from Linton’s Diner, after roughly 40 years, well past when most mortals retired. She then worked several more years at a local Girard-Avenue pizza parlor. When she finally, cut down to part-time, we all teased her about laziness. She would quickly show us her beautiful, flawless legs, and dare us to have them when we were her age. Mary, we could never compete with your legs.

Until recently, this amazing woman attended all major family functions. She will be missed, and remembered by her family, and anyone who, even briefly, met her. Mary was 93 years old, when she passed away. She had children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, even a great, great. Mary, you populated the planet with many fine people.

For all you did, and how you lived, I say good bye  and a heartfelt Thank You.