Mickey

McCarthy family circa 1958
 (perhaps visiting Native Americans)

Mary Ellen McCarthy McLane (named Mickey in utero) was born on Abraham Lincoln's birthday (February 12), 1948.  You may have once heard that her parents did not know where she slept. One day in the kitchen in Florida, my grandmother looked up from her crossword puzzle and said, “Dan, where did Mickey sleep when she was a baby?” Answer from my ridiculously handsome grandfather?  “Anne, damned if I know!” I see that this story could suggest neglect. It does not. Mickey arrived to family that cherished her.

Sheila and Mickey circa 1953

Mickey quickly demonstrated a musical gift - Uncle Frank was certain she had perfect pitch. She was small but had a booming, deep voice. Tinier and younger than many around her every day, she noticed everything and spoke her mind. For example, after listening to her mother’s extensive preparatory history lesson on a famed Native American location outside Minneapolis to which they hiked, Mickey sought to inform others. As an eight-year-old, she hiked— trekking up a final path which wound next to hikes beginnithe hike'seps - she kindly advised fellow travelers heading downward to begin their own adventure: “Don’t get too excited — absolutely no Indians down there.”

Through her earliest years, Mickey lived with her parents, Anne and Dan McCarthy, her maternal grandmother Maryellen Hughes, her Aunt Rita Hughes, and her older sister Sheila (my mom). Surrounded by many women both in her house and in a small town full of aunts and cousins, Mickey developed her gift of crafting a story and saw the power of a loving family.

A left-hander in what was a right-handed world, Mickey learned to adapt and developed a script style all her own; her handwriting still makes my heart leap when her cards arrive in my mailbox. 

Débutant circa 1965

Mickey attended Catholic schools in Minneapolis and Pittsburgh. With the 1960s unfolding around her, I think the rigor of her education fueled her naturally inquisitive mind; while not a textbook hippie, Mickey questioned traditional hierarchies and pushed against talking points that conflicted with her personal code. Mickey once told me that she believed if every mother in the world stood up together and said “no, you cannot take my child to war,” there would be no more war.  As a young woman, Mickey did not support the war in Vietnam, even when many in her immediate family most certainly did. This collision of opinions was respectful and never diminished the deep family bonds within which Mickey was embedded. There is a lesson here.

After graduating from college, Mickey began working with children with special needs. She was patient, creative, and explosively loving. 

MickeyDale (yes, one word) circa 1998

During her teaching years, Mickey met Dale. Sitting at a bar after either an eye exam or dental procedure (I can’t remember which, and it might have been both) she was trying to light her cigarette but could not hold the cigarette in her mouth and find the end to light. So she was feeling her way down the white cylinder when Dale leaned over with a lighter. 

She often talked about a night soon after when they exited a movie theater, walking into a light Pittsburgh snow - singing the songs from the movie they’d just left - Albert Finney's Scrooge. 

They married and quickly moved to Chicago, then Kentucky - where their beautiful dog Casey and their son Michael joined them. Four (4) years later, they were in central Pennsylvania with baby Meghan and, if my memory is right, a really crazy black cat afraid of everyone - except Mickey. 

Family in Ireland 1984

There were ups and downs and horrible losses - first Mickey’s parents and then Dale’s father. There were fun times - exceptional family vacations and deep friendships with neighbors Jan and Sam and adventures and milestones shared with Mike and Meghan’s friends. Mickey also sustained a college friendship with beloved Kathy Clark Kegarise, which included an annual camp excursion with Kathy's and Mickey’s families. The McLane sister and brothers were spread around the country, yet always found time to gather. The McLanes took Mickey in; they saw that her deep fidelity to family was akin to their own family ethos. My mom, Sheila, and Mickey are tightly bound, and the Beggs and McLanes lived much of our childhoods in tandem.

All "wearers" of Anne Hughes
baptism dress

My dad Sam was very fond of Mickey. There are gobs of stories, but I am reminded today of something very small and lovely - when Dad started working from home and before Mickey went back to teaching - actually before they moved from Ridge Road- they would call each other in the mornings. Mickey would sit in her kitchen, with her coffee (I suspect also wanting a cigarette), and the view from the window behind her was a farm - and she and Dad would do the newspaper word puzzles together. BTW: The co-puzzle phase unfolded during the Lady/Tramp/Max McLane era.

Sentinel Ad for school board 1991

The years flew by; days were full of travel and golf, service to the community (school board), and a return to the classroom. New friendships were formed, and long-lasting friendships were reaffirmed. Then Mike and Meg found exceptional spouses - Nicole and Jason. And then …… grandchildren arrived ………and wow …….. did Mickey love them.

The grandbabies

Thinking back to my own childhood and considering even last week, I feel confident that all would describe the vibe at Mickey’s house as safety and comfort. Movies, popcorn, books, pictures, and wonderful conversations were abundant. All were welcome. Many came to visit over and over. And as the years went by, those visitors brought their partners and their children, and the comfort was shared.

You may wonder why I am telling you these stories. Why am I sharing this on my blog, you ask?  Understand that Mickey was 20 when I was born. She was always with me. I do not hold a single important memory that she is not a part of. Mickey is folded into my being. She is in my blood.  

And she returned that love to me, because, you see, I am her favorite 

Amy and Mickey 1970

Many readers are now annoyed and are thinking, “Um, no lady - I am her favorite!”

And I have now broken the magician's code and revealed Mickey’s trade secret. Everyone Mickey met was engulfed by her light and drawn into her warmth. She made each of us feel like we were her favorite because she saw good in everyone, and she was so honest and open with her love and affection. I see her now in my memories as a glowing being I was lucky enough to encounter.

We do not have to exit her light. 

Mickey and Sheila

Mickey is still here. Mickey is here because we are here. And we will step up for each other and remember our stories and tell those tales.  Mickey's light is still here. Some will feel her in a slight shimmer just to the side of your eye. Others will notice a fresh breeze and feel a tingle on their arm. A few may see her in dreams or hear her voice in a song playing in the background. Mickey will never leave those she loves. 

We have work to do - however - because our sort of hippie, coffee drinking, piano gifted, dog loving, tongue sticking just out of the corner of her mouth when concentrating friend had more to do.  We must remember to create spaces of comfort for others.

I ask you - no, in honor of our school teacher friend - I assign you homework: 

1. Find a fellow Mickey friend and debate which one of you was her favorite; show your work;
2. Purchase a REAL newspaper and do the word puzzles; if you need to, phone a friend; and
3. When you meet someone who does not know Mickey, pause and feel her light and share it.

Together, in Mickey’s honor, we may be able to bring about world peace after all. 

Me with Mickey on her wedding day

i really miss you