Part V-d: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Memories of Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff (Part IV)

In early January of 1997, I received a phone call from my brother Rick who lives in Alabama. He said, “Ron, you’ve got to do something!” Mary Lucille had called him and she was on a war path and was madder than H-E-double-hockey-stick! She had not had any news at Christmas from her brother’s family in Tuscaloosa. That meant US! Mary Lucille loved her sister and two brothers dearly and kept in touch with all of them over the many years. Her two brothers were now deceased, and she expected that somebody, especially in her brother Cronin’s (my dad) family, to keep her up to date with what was happening in Alabama. I scanned my memory to see if I had forgotten to send a Christmas card. I wrote Mary Lucille several times a year, but apparently I had forgotten to get something to her at Christmas time. There was NO news from her nephews in Alabama and that was NOT good news! I told my brother that it was his turn to do something. I was letting myself off the hook this time.

(Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff)

Several minutes after the phone call, I sat down and wrote a letter to Mary Lucille. Then, I got the bright idea of trying to fax the letter so she would get it quicker than sending it by USPS. I called her son Duane to see if he had a fax machine at his office. I told him to go straight to the office because I was “high tailing” the letter to Oklahoma as soon as we disconnected our call. The letter was promptly delivered to Mary Lucille.

A couple of days later, I phoned my aunt to check on the situation. Mary Lu recognized my number from her caller ID box and answered with the question, “Is this my nephew from Michigan?” She then asked me if my faxed letter was precipitated by guilt for not writing at Christmas time. I reminded her that I had written several times that year and that I had responsibilities as a husband and a father as well as work responsibilities. If I forgot to send a Christmas greeting, this was not grounds for throwing a tantrum. She said, “It worked, didn’t it?” I told her that it had, but there were other ways to evoke a response other than beating up on people and terrorizing the neighborhood. I told her that I didn’t want her to try that tactic again. She said she wouldn’t, and she never did.

When I was in conversation with Duane regarding faxing a letter, he invited us out to Oklahoma. I told him we would come during our Spring Break from school. Our youngest was still at home so the three of us drove in early April the 20 hours from Michigan to Oklahoma. We arrived late Saturday evening and stayed with Duane and Eloise. The next day we were in church together which is where Mary Lucille discovered that we had arrived. On that Sunday afternoon, three of the Woodliff cousins gathered for a reunion. We had a great time reminiscing about family. Mary Lucille sat right next to me and held my hand affectionately. One of the cousins asked me to fill them in on my family and my brothers’ families. As I gave the details, Mary Lucille frequently interrupted my conversation. I had to lean over and quietly remind her that “it was not her time to speak and that I would tell her when her time was.” That settled it. From that time on, we had a good understanding that neither of us would try to control the other’s turf. It was finally working with respect and understanding. For me, it was a victory for the two of us. We both had aggressive personalities, and we came to terms with those personalities and found peace. Of course, how much it affected our other relationships in our individual families, I don’t know. But, I have a suspicion that not much changed with Mary Lucille on the other fronts of her life. I would like to believe that I changed for the better in regard to toning down my hyper personality with those around me. My children, however, would probably tell me differently. Over ten years later, they may say there has been improvement or, perhaps, they have only adjusted their lives to embrace it with more grace and mercy than I deserve.

We made a second trip to Oklahoma that year which was in early August when the Woodliff clan gathered at Ten Killer Lake in eastern Oklahoma for their annual Family Fest. They had all the water toys, good food, good humor (which is always more evident when Lance is present), and the stuff that makes a family even better—love and affection for one another in spite of our human frailties. Mary Lucille had recently had cataract surgery and was forbidden to go near the water. She wanted me to see her jet ski at 89 ½ years old. I told her as I took my turn to “baby sit” her in cottage that I would just have to imagine her jet skiing because the others and I were going to make sure she did not defy the doctor’s orders. She obeyed.

As we said our goodbyes on the last day of the reunion, we had our picture taken with Aunt Mary Lucille. I knew full well that this would be the last time I would see her in the flesh. She died on March 31, 2000 which was a little over six weeks after her sister Margery had died on February 13, 2000. My dad’s two sisters were now gone, and there was no one of their generation left to answer the questions that we waited too long to ask. My oldest brother told me once that the six of us came from such good, strong stock—the Davises, the Cronins, the Elliotts, and the Neighbors plus everyone in between. I believe he was right.

(Next: Memories of Margery Eunice Davis Wienand)

(Mary Lucille Woodliff with her nephew and nephew's wife)