Mary Jo

Eighty-eight years is a very long time.  Mary Jo Moriarty was born in October of 1936, and she lived to see her 88^th birthday last week. I am her son-in-law Jeff, and I came into Mary Jo’s life in 1980, which is 44 years ago, meaning I was around for exactly half of her 88 years. 

Mary Jo had many titles and roles in her life; she was a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a student, a nurse, a supervisor, and a Catholic.  She became a wife and mother and then a mother-in-law, a grandmother and great grandmother.  When I first met her as a bushy-haired young man dating her daughter it may have seemed that we had little in common, but it turns out that was not true. 

We were both born and raised in Missouri.  I grew up less than 2 miles from where Mary Jo and Bob were raising two girls.  Mary Jo was a Gardener who dug in the dirt as I do, and a fellow Genealogist with a love of family history, especially Irish history.  I remember a trip she made to Pierce City where she dragged her grandson Adam along to go meet distant cousins, which seems familiar somehow.  We ended up having a great deal in common, and over the next 44 years had lots of shared history.

Despite that there is a great deal I have no firsthand experience with.  Mary Jo spent her entire working life in nursing, as a nurse and then a nursing supervisor at St. Mary’s.  She worked nights and was responsible for staffing the nurses to provide patients care.  At times being short-staffed was a huge source of stress for my mother-in-law.  She took her work very seriously and providing proper care to patients was a big part of her life for many years.

I also can’t tell you firsthand about her first 44 years, although I can tell you that when we visited Sedalia a week before our wedding, and I got to meet Mary Jo’s family for the first time I could tell a lot by just watching the love and affection that this family had for one another.  Mary Jo’s face would change when she left the suburbs and came back home to Sedalia where her parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews were.  We would return for weddings and funerals and a State Fair or two, and it was always good to see Mary Jo slip back into the role of daughter or sister or aunt.  I remember a lot of laughter and good times.

The normal way to tell a story is to start at the beginning and work our way to the end but in this case, I think I would like to start at the end.  One reason for this is so we can address the elephant in the room up front: THE LAST SIX YEARS SUCKED. I believe that all life is sacred, and that all life has value, but the last six years for Mary Jo were not what they should have been.  From Parkinson’s to the feeding tube to not being able to walk, this was not her best time, and we all knew it.  To say the quiet part out loud, I was both happy and relieved when she passed, and her difficult time was over.

When we are all done with today, I’d like to suggest we erase this part of the story from our memories of Mary Jo and replace them with memories from happier times.  It’s tempting to try to find some silver lining or secret meaning in her suffering but sometimes there are just bad things that happen to people.  But I don’t mean that we should forget the incredible love and dedication shown by her two daughters during this time.  They would visit their mother every Sunday like clockwork for the last 6 years, making sure she knew she was loved and making sure she got the care she needed. 

I did not have much experience with Catholicism before I met my wife, but I learned about the Catholic faith from attending mass with them.  Mary Jo was a devout Catholic who attended mass and gave to the church and made sure her grandchildren received the proper sacraments and instruction.  It was obvious her faith was very important to her, and it seemed like something which had always been inherent in her.

It's hard to put into words how important Bob Ament and Mary Jo Moriarty were to each other, but it’s hard for me to imagine a world in which these two were not together.  Chance brought them together in Kansas City when this nurse cared for this soldier’s finger, and they ended up being married for 54 years.  I know they had disagreements like any couple, but they had a very deep and loving relationship and truly seemed happy spending time together.  When Bob had his heart attack in the 1980’s Mary Jo organized his diet and cared for him, and later when he passed away it was a terrible blow for her.

After getting married the young couple moved around a bit and had Dana in 1961 and Stacy in 1964.  The young family was living in Hazelwood next to Bob’s mother Lillian when in 1972 they built a house out in west St. Louis County where they all moved in, and then after a few years Lillian moved out into an apartment but remained a close part of the family.

Looking back at old pictures from someone’s entire life, it’s easy to be critical.  For example, I cannot find a way to explain to my grandchildren why we are wearing that clothing, or why our hair looks the way it does.  Bob’s shorts are just too short.  But we must remember that we are all the product of the place and time that we are in.  Those who lived through the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s will remember that society was much different during each of those decades, and Mary Jo was very much a part of each.  She was a young farm girl in the 40’s, a young lady in the 50’s, a mother in the 60’s, and in the 70’s she was the career woman, having it all.

In the 70’s there was a lot of pressure on women to work and have children and keep house and “do it all”, and my mother-in-law embraced that paradigm, being a career woman and mother and master decorator, but over time this took a toll. 

Mary Jo retired from nursing in the mid 90’s and Bob retired in 2000, and some of the best times for Mary Jo came at this time.  They loved sitting on their deck and enjoying music in the basement and going to restaurants.  I must say my Mother-in-Law was a very good cook, and we would have meals at some very nice places, but she had something of a reputation for being a bit picky.  To put it another way, Mary Jo has sent back more steaks than Gordon Ramsey.  She knew what she wanted, and she had high standards, and not just about food.

Bob died in 2013 and for 5 years until 2018 Mary Jo was living at home. These were the last years that Mary Jo was able to join us at Thanksgiving.  Dana and Stacy kept quite busy running back and forth to west county to check on Mom, who kept driving as long as she possibly could. Eventually as she put it, “Ellisville has gone crazy with all these curbs! They are everywhere”, and the girls and the rest of the family had to take over the driving chores. I remember we would celebrate every New Year’s Eve at Maggiano’s, which Mary Jo loved. These were interesting times.

For Mary Jo and for each of us, we have a small group of loved ones who surround us and who show up at Birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Births, and Funerals.  They may be family or friends or neighbors or even coworkers, but there are people in your world that you know are not going anywhere.  These people will visit you in the hospital, celebrate your achievements, and care about your well-being. 

Mary Jo was a part of our circle of loved ones, and she is now gone, leaving a hole in our lives.  But the memories of Thanksgiving meals or time spent sitting on the deck together will remain.  Our memories, our sense of caring for her, remain even though her path has taken her out of our lives.

The family of Tom and Agnes Moriarty have also lost one of their own, the loss of a sister and beloved aunt.  Mary Jo was born into a family with two boys, Pat and David.  Mary Jo was Agnes’ first girl.  Later Agnes would have twins, Ralph and Rose.  They all grew up on a farm outside of Sedalia in the 1940’s. I know Agnes had a strong influence on her daughter, as is always the case with mothers and daughters.  At the center of all our family circles is a mother who serves as an anchor and as the focal point that our lives revolve around.  Mothers are never perfect, but they set the tone and priorities for the family and help shape us into the people we are.  Losing a mother leaves a void that cannot be filled.

Agnes Velten was born in 1907 in southwest Missouri, the daughter of David Velten and Josephine Marie Schallert, which is where her name Marie Josephine comes from.  Agnes’ grandparents were all born in Germany and migrated to Missouri from there.

Thomas Michael Moriarty was the last son of John T Moriarty and Matilda Ochs.  Matilda’s parents were both born in Germany.  John T Moriarty was born in 1856, the eldest son of Andrew and Bridget Moriarty who were both born in County Kerry in Ireland in 1824 and 1828, but the potato famine of the 1840’s caused them to come to America and to Sedalia.

Mary Jo and I often discussed genealogy, and what it meant to be “German” or “Irish”.  At the risk of cultural stereotyping, the Irish and the Germans are seen as being very different people. The Germans were seen as industrious, hardworking, and orderly.  The Irish were generally seen as a bit more fun-loving and carefree.  Genetically speaking Mary Jo was raised by a very German mother, but her heart was Irish.  She was clearly driven and industrious and organized, with a home that was orderly and meticulously clean.  But underneath this exterior lived a girl that wanted to put on some music and dance a jig, and maybe enjoy a wee pint or two. 

Mary Jo was many things.  She was strong and driven and proud and in charge of the world around her.  She was fiercely independent and when she lost the ability to walk or even eat, it was impossible for her to accept her situation.  She stopped talking to us and interacting with her world, unable to accept this new reality.  Though understandable this was hard on everyone, but Mary Jo did not wish to embrace the role of helpless patient when she was always the superhuman nurse who made sure everyone else was cared for.

So, we are going to erase those tapes, and forget that part.  Instead, we will remember the candles and silverware in the dining room with the smell of perfectly cooked filet and baked potato, her laughter sitting in a lawn chair in the back yard at Ralph and Peggy’s, lively discussions at Thanksgiving dinner, and the chips and dip and laughter around the bar while kids were playing pool and games with jazz playing.  We will remember the beautiful flowers and the Irish genealogy and the Barbara Streisand and her beloved dogs.  We will remember her patriotism and her love of her country, and her wonderful decorating skills, and the time she spent with her 3 grandchildren.

From Andrew to John to Tom to Ralph Moriarty is only 4 generations.  From Agnes to Mary Jo to Stacy to Caitlin is also 4 generations.  We are not so very far removed from our roots. And the decade we are in may not look the same to us when we look at pictures years from now.  To that end, maybe we should all take a good look at the clothes we are wearing.

In addition to letting go of the last six years I’d like to recommend that we offer a little additional Grace to the people around us, who are not perfect but are loved anyway.  Let’s encourage their laughter and minimize their tears because we are truly in this thing together.

And finally, to my Irish Mother-in-Law:

May the Irish hills caress you.

May her lakes and rivers bless you.

May the luck of the Irish enfold you.

May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.