Dead Sea, Jordan, fall, 2005 and Remarks From Mara' Washington DC Memorial Services

At the pool of a hotel. The Dead Sea is in the background

We have promiced to give you the texts of the remarks made at Mara's Commemorative Services in Washington DC and we are posting them all now. Here they are. Tomorrow, Saturday, December 8, we will put up, with another beautiful picture I hope, a copy of the commemorative Service in Portland, Sunday, December 2.

The first two remarks were given at the Graveside Service and were not recorded, but you can hear all of ther other remarks from the Service at the Hilton on Sunday spoken on the Blog Videothat was put up a few days ago. However, for those of you who would also like to read the words, and it is a lot to read, or even down load them, here they are!

The remarks are included in the Blog in the order they were spoken at the two services. They are by: Carol Galaty (Mara’s Mother) and Peter Malnak (Mara’s US AID Boss in Jordan) at the Saturday, November 17, 2007, Graveside Service, and from the Sunday, November 18 Service, Carol Galaty, Gil Hill (step-father), David Galaty (father), Elisa Beth Galaty Alpen (Sister), Jodi-Burg-Torzewski (Grade School friend), KSK (Jr. High School, High School and College Friend), Luke Zahner (Friend from SAIS, Aspen Institute and Foreign Service), Liz McKeon (US AID Friend), Sally Kux (State Department Friend), and David Mees (Mara’s Partner).

CAROL GALATY’S REMARKS AT MARA GALATY’S GRAVESIDE

I wanted to welcome you all to Mara’s resting place, here with my mother and other brave and giving foreign service people, many of whom my parents and I knew. This is where Mara’s ashes belong while her spirit, love and energy have passed on to each of us.

Mara was an amazing and stellar combination of her ancestors. From my mother, Florence Maisel Popper, Mara inherited drive, strength, diplomacy, openness, an ability to develop intimate relations with individuals and an inability to be embarrassed; her intelligence, quick wit, precision, language skills, and modesty in work and lack of physical modesty came from my father, “Mr. Ambassador,” or David Popper; and from her paternal grandparents, Ibby and Gordon Galaty, Mara inherited speed reading, sensitivity, a keen insight into individuals, spirituality and a love of helping people. Now Mara joins her ancestors. She is with us as an inspiration in our wondrous memories of her; she has become an inheritance for the generations to come as they move around the world, working to make it better.

Let me end with excerpts from W.H Auden’s Poem, “In Memory Of W.B. Yeats,” using slightly modified words:

Earth Receive an honored guest;
Mara Galaty’s laid to rest;
Let this wondrous vessel lie
Passing on her poetry.

She disappeared in the early winter,
O all the instruments agree
The day of her death was a dark cold day.

November 3 was her last afternoon as herself,
Surrounded by loved ones; resting peacefully,
The provinces of her body revolted,
The squares of her mind gently emptied,
Silence invaded the suburbs,
The current of her feelings failed:
She became her admirers.


A FAREWELL TO MARA GALATY FROM PETER MALMAK AT THE FOREIGN SERVICE CEMETERY, WASHINGTON DC

I’m grateful to Carol and all of Mara’s family to honor me with a place here today. I appreciate being able to say a few words about our Mara. First, I’d be remiss if I didn’t start by sending the many condolences to her family from the legions of friends and colleagues from USAID -- both in Jordan and throughout the world.

While many of Mara’s wonderful attributes flood my mind as I stand here today, none more cherished than Mara’s love for life and her commitment to living it every day. Mara made everyone feel special. Each one of us felt that we were all that mattered to her.

In a way, as we mourn her loss, it is impossible to not be devastated, knowing that the joy we had being with her and sharing our lives with her and having her enrich our world is now gone. Unbelievable. Unfair. She was brave and courageous and never let a thing slow her. She was strong, vibrant, and filled with life’s energies.

Mara was loved and respected by all. Her incredible ability to shine light in even the darkest of times was a gift. As many of you may know, it all began in March 2006. USAID needed a highly talented democracy officer for the work we do in Jordan.

We had already reviewed more than 50 resumes for the position that Mara applied for. Mara, of course, stood out. The time came for Mara’s interview with USAID’s Mission Director – a very experienced and tough-minded manager. Mara arrided, filled with charm. The interview was uncharacteristic -- with references to people they both knew, countries they both had traveled to, and cultural points so fine and interesting I found myself at a loss. After Mara exited the room, the Mission Director said: “what a treasure! Grab her fast before someone else takes her first.” That was Mara, shining, confident, and engaging. And for us, it was the right choice. Mara’s ability to work collaboratively was the reason that we, as a government and as a people, were able to so readily advance the issues so important to Mara. Mara built the closest and most effective relationships with our Jordanian counterparts, as she did in every country in which she worked, to advance democracy there. To Mara, cooperation was paramount, and results at the forefront. She opened, for the first time, pathways into the most reluctant Jordanian governmental bodies – winning them over and creating greater freedoms for all in Jordan. As a result, Mara transformed our new democracy program into a comprehensive, strategic initiative, quintuple the size, that paved the way for reform in Jordan that many said couldn’t be done. All the more impressive, she did what generally takes years to accomplish in a mere few months.

It was therefore no surprise that when Mara was diagnosed with her latest cancer, her hospital room in Jordan was transformed instantly into a wonderful tropical paradise from the flowers and chocolates that the hundred well-wishers brought by for her. It was also no great surprise that when Mara did pass away, the first person in line to sign the condolence book in Jordan was one of their nation’s most prominent Ministers.

Mara was an inspiration; someone from whom I will draw on for the rest of my life. Her brilliant, balanced, and positive approach taught me every day how to be a better person. I am truly indebted to Mara for these things and many more.
Dear Mara, it is impossible to believe you are no longer with us. We will forever feel your loss. Nonetheless, you remain with us, your warmth and openness and your love for life. And, we commit to realizing your hopes and your dreams -- we commit to being the guardians of your spirit, your memory.


CAROL GALATY’S REMARKS AT MARA GALATY’S MEMORIAL SERIVCE

“There are some who bring a light so great to the world that even after they have gone, the light remains.” (Anonymous)

I want to welcome all of you--- Mara’s family and friends-- to share in a celebration of that light that Mara has shed on each of us and that will remain with each of us and be passed on to generations to come.

Others this morning will talk of Mara as she was and as she became, so let me create a brief picture for you of Mara when she began.

Mara’s birth was prophetic in many ways. Dave Galaty and I moved to Heidelberg, where Dave was to work on his PhD dissertation. As we packed to leave the United States for a year, we found to our surprise that I was pregnant. Eight months later, in the Frauen Clinic, Mara emerged to the laughter of the delivery staff for I had said in my poor German, “Ist eine Frau?” I had not said,”Is it a baby girl,” but “Is it a woman?”

The nurses and doctors laughed, but I was correct. A part of Mara has from the day she was born has been a Frau. Certainly she was a happy baby, smiling, gurgling in her own language, and never crying even when she was hungry. As a matter of fact she was such a happy baby that the pediatrician who examined her when she was 4 days old told us she was a Down Syndrome baby and she spent the next eight days of her life in the “Kinder Clink” being tested for Down Syndrome before I was allowed to bring her home. But she was also a deep feeling, deep thinking, sensitive and serious being from her earliest years.

One day, living in Green Bay Wisconsin when Mara was about three, we were discussing our life in Africa in the Peace Corp with friends. Mara piped up with one of her serious Mara questions, “Where was I then?” Being a Zoologist, I explained --in hindsight too carefully-- “Well, half of you was in me and half of you was in your Daddy.” Mara thought quietly for a few minutes, then looked at me with concern, “If my head was in you and my feet in Daddy, then people could see my stomach.”

Later that summer we were talking while packing the car to go white water rafting and suddenly Mara announced, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to kill bunnies.” It took us a while to understand what her problem was and then longer to explain to her that “Shooting the Rapids” was not killing bunnies.

From the earliest days when Elise was born, Mara worried about her and took care of her. Mara loved helping me bath Elise, but I once, when I was holding and we were bathing Elise together, I noticed that Mara had placed the wet washcloth over Elise’s entire face. I was horrified; she could have killed Elise!

At three and a half Mara started “reading” bedtime stories to Elise before I came in to kiss them both good-night. One day when I picked Mara and Elise up at a friend’s house, Elise refused, as frequently happened, to get in the car to go home. In frustration I put Mara in the car and drove off to scare Elise. Unfortunately this didn’t bother Elise, but Mara became hysterical and made me go back IMMEDIATELY to get Elise.

Mara’s language skill bloomed early too, but it was a weak start. Staying at the Embassy in Chile with my parents, Mara announced on day, “I can speak Spanish! I can say Coca-cola, Tang and galletas!” Who would ever have guessed that this would become the person we all know who would one day speak 9 languages.

This little Mara grew to a person who had several life times of accomplishments in a very few short years. To paraphrase Edna St. Vincent Malay,

Mara…

Your candle burned at both ends;
It did not last the night;
But ah your foes, and oh your friends --
It gave a lovely light.


MARA, FROM DAVID GALATY

My memories of Mara are a father’s memories. One summer Mara kept going into the water without her prescribed earplugs. For a few nights she woke up screaming with an earache, and each night, in the middle of the night, I held her close until the analgesic medicines took effect. A parent’s job, after all, is to make it all better. And today there is nothing a parent can do to make it all better. We can only search for a way of knowing that it is somehow OK.

Mara’s time on earth seems like the time it takes a boulder to slip under the water in the middle of a lake. The boulder disappears, but ripples travel to distant shores. I am sure that all of us in years to come will find Mara-ripples all over the globe – even if we do not know for sure what caused them. Maybe we ourselves are now Mara-ripples.

Mara needs no eulogy. You all here present are her eulogy.

Mara needs no epitaph. She was her own epitaph.

Thank you for coming so that we can all share our sorrow -- and so that we can all celebrate the wonder that was Mara.


GIL HILL’S REMARKS AT MARA GALATY’S MEMORIAL SERIVCE

Mara was a gift to all of us. She started giving to me at the age of 8 when I began dating Carol. When we were married, Mara, Elise, Drew, and Bruce were our wedding attendants. The marriage gave me the delightful task of continuing my role as a parent to Drew and Bruce as well as assuming a new role as step – parent to Mara and Elise.

I had the pleasure of step–parenting Mara through her elementary, high school, undergraduate, and graduate years. Because others will cover this in depth, I will only offer one comment: She sure knew how to give “Good Daughter.”

Being a step–parent to her was a source of constant satisfaction to me although I must admit she wasn’t perfect. While at Churchill, she totaled Carol’s car one rainy night, ands threw a party at our house that got out of control. Fortunately, she had invited the Churchill football team to the party and they helped to re-establish control.

Mara’s gift to me will not end with her death – it will last the rest of my life.


AD LIB BY KSK FOLLOWING GIL'S REMARKS:

Jodi is going to go first, but I just want to say a couple of things to Gil. Gil, I was there on both of those occassions. Mara felt terrible about the car. She tried desperately to rip her lamenated driver's license in two while screaming, 'I'm never going to need this again.' And, as for the party, I will accept partial responsibility. But, I have to say, it was really fun.

ELISE’S REMARKS FOR MARA’S MEMORIAL CELEBRATION

Even if my mom and dad have already said it, I want to say THANK YOU for being here today. I know Mara would want me to say that.

“Thank you”, “I'm sorry” and “I love you” were three things that Mara never left hanging in the breeze. She always made sure she said them, generously.

In fact, two of those are among the last things she ever said to me

My father claims slightly jokingly that, right from the beginning, Mara thought she was my mother. And, I can't help but think that's funny. Because I think on some level Mara really did think that. In fact, she may have played that role for a few other people here too, including our own mother!

Mara was absolutely the big sister, in every sense. She was the kind of big sister you hear about – bossy, of course, overbearing and condescending, but at the same time, faithfully protective, endlessly supportive and incredibly loving. I was always the little sister, and life will never be the same without her. She was always there for me. As strong as Paul Simon's Bridge Over Troubled Water that was my sister. "When you're weary," she could say, "Feeling small. When tears are in your eyes. I will dry them all. I'm on your side. When times get rough, And friends just can't be found." We heard that song so many times when we were growing up. When I was sleeping at the hospital with Mara a few weeks ago, and we ended up lying awake much of the night, it was one of the first times I could say, "I will comfort you. I'll take your part."

I haven't had the strength yet to fully think through and grasp how life will be without you, Mara. But I know that I will miss you for the rest of my life. And that in times of trouble I will still seek your guidance, think "what would Mara say now" and in times of joy and success I will still seek your company and approval "see Mara I'm doing fine".

I will raise my children, your god children, with colorful descriptions of you and instill in them the values you believed in and that we shared and that way, in them and in me, you will always be with us.

I will always love you Mara, you will always be my big sister, and I will always be your little Pee.


KSK’S REMARKS AT MARA’S MEMORIAL CELEBRATION

As I was preparing for this moment. I sat staring at my computer screen – fingers perched on the keyboard, yet frozen in place. My task was to paint a picture of Mara’s youth, through anecdotes …to glean a few of her most notable characteristics from her innumerable, glorious traits. In other words, I was to deconstruct the Mona Lisa. “What was the essence of Mara,” I wondered. Who, was Mara? My fingers broke free:

She was self-sacrificing, yet independent. She was widely adored and innately successful, yet humble. She was grounded, yet free-spirited. Loyal, beautiful, disarming, silly, non-judgmental… The list went on and on.

Again, my fingers froze. These words didn’t begin to capture the cherished woman that we all love. I thought about what Mara would have said if she were here. “Kimberly. Don’t stress about this so much. I’ll tell you what. I’ve got to do some work and make some phone calls. Then, I’ve got a hair appointment and I have to meet some friends for lunch. Oh, then, I’ve got a coffee date. I could come over after … oh wait. I’m supposed to meet my parents for dinner and a lecture. Ok. I’ll be over after that. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

In the spirit of Mara’s “go with the flow” approach to life, I tried not to over think this, as I composed some stories. I hope they will give you a glimpse into Mara’s childhood years…

I met Mara in the sixth grade. Her family moved to Potomac and, lucky for me, they chose a house across the street from mine. On the first day we played, Mara came over to my house. She immediately sat down and demonstrated her mastery of the French braid on one of my dolls. Needless to say, I was impressed and quickly asked if she would braid my hair. For the rest of the year, she came over to my house almost every morning, and created all sorts of interesting variations of the classic French braid. As we walked to school, I felt special and pretty. At the time, I thought she enjoyed our morning ritual and liked showing off her talent. It wasn’t until many years later that she told me she actually hated it.

Even then, she was the altruistic Mara we all knew. She went out of her way to make others’ lives easier and more joyful. She never asked for anything in return or sought recognition.

You may have read in Mara’s obituary that she was a cheerleader, the aspiration of many 9th grade girls. Allow me to flesh out this odd tidbit of information. Mara was actually a terrible cheerleader. She knew that she was awful. But, she got up there game after game and tried her best. She couldn’t keep the beat and she literally giggled at herself while performing. All of her friends sat on the bleachers laughing with her. It became an endearing, charming part of who she was.

To have such confidence in 9th grade, when most kids were terribly insecure and angst ridden was remarkable. Mara never held back. She couldn’t carry a tune, yet she sang out loud. She wasn’t afraid to fail. It was the process of life that mattered, not the product.

On a typical day during Mara’s college years, she would go to classes – all of which were languages, by the way – then, she would go to work at a German pub. You might enjoy knowing about the required uniform. Let’s just say, think St. Pauli girl. Anyway, when she arrived home at around midnight, Nomi, Theresa, and I would be heading to bed. Mara would sit down and sigh. It was clear that she had had a few with the customers, while practicing her German. Instead of “goodnight,” Mara would turn to us with an amusing look of resignation and say, “I’ve got a 10 page French paper due tomorrow that I haven’t started.” Needless to say, she would get it done and somehow manage to get a good grade. Mara was an extremely intelligent multitasker.

The best way for me to describe my relationship with Mara is that she was a sister with no sibling rivalry. We went through practically every developmental stage together. From the time we were little girls to the time we were grown women, we could sit around for hours talking and never felt like there was enough time for what we had to say. Yet, we could also sit in silence, content to just be in the world together. Mara’s parents were second parents to me. Elise, the little sister I never had. What can I say? My life was blessed by Mara, as were all of yours -- blessed in immeasurable ways.

My stories of Mara are only a snapshot. I am sure you all agree that she is indescribable, and that no words can fully portray the unique person she was.

She was a quiet rain on a Sunday morning. She was the gun metal grey of a jet against the sky. She was the laughter of children. The force of a thunderstorm. Roots of a redwood.

“People are made up of energy,” she wrote to me after her grandmother passed away, “and when they die it is released and it is all around us, right?” Yes, Mara. You were right and now you are all around us. But, you are also in us and forever will remain a vital, glorious part of who we are.

We are consoled by Mara’s memory because the lessons of her life are the property and solace of us all. They remind us to strive to be in the moment…lend a hand…take risks…be ourselves…sing out.


REMARKS AT MARA GALATY’S MEMORIAL SERVICE BY JODI BURG TORZEWSKI

I met Mara in the first grade at Lafayette Elementary School. Although I could speak endlessly about Mara’s unique attributes as an adult, my job today is to tell you about her as a child.
Mara had charisma even in first grade. We all wanted to copy whatever she did. Mara even made wearing a retainer seem cool. She was curious and funny, and had a way of making everyone she spoke to feel important and fascinating.
Mara was a wonderful best friend, and many of my fondest memories are from the ordinary moments of our lives:
• Walking home from school together for lunch.
• Playing with Barbie dolls.
• Mara’s dad catching us running around in our birthday suits during a sleep over (we were 6).
• Talking about our crushes on boys.
• Playing soccer.
• Bleaching our hair with sun-in.

There were also moments that stand out.

When we were in second grade our teacher, Mrs. Frazier, had a policy of turning messy desks upside down in the classroom. Mara had many admirable qualities, but she wasn’t always neat. So she and her desk fell victim to this policy. The contents of her desk—a big pile of crayons and pencils and notebooks and who knows what else—were dumped onto the floor in the middle our class. Unfortunately, Mrs. Frazier had forgotten that Mara would be gone for six months in Chile where her grandfather was Ambassador at the time. So there it was, her overturned desk and everything in it, on the floor in the middle of our classroom, for six months, until Mara returned.

Ever since Mara taught me how to draw more than a stick figure, I knew that she had real artistic abilities. An artist friend of ours observed Mara’s home in Portland a few years ago and said Mara had the eye of an artist. She likely inherited this from Carol, who used her own talent, when we were children, to create unusual, spectacular, and, unfortunately very uncomfortable Halloween costumes. Picture, if you can, little Mara dressed in a huge paper mache candy cane costume. Or better yet, as a giraffe, long neck and all. Mara would wobble around the track at school for the Halloween parade in her elaborate costumes, and from door to door while trick or treating. She was always a good sport.

Finally I will leave you with this image. Mara and her family moved to Potomac when she was in the sixth grade. We threw her a surprise good-bye party that for some reason was also a costume party. We dressed Mara up as a cowgirl and spent the night disco dancing to the Grease soundtrack. If you need proof, look at the photo I have posted at the reception.

Mara has been my best friend, my inspiration, and my role model for most of my life. She is my son’s godmother and will be his inspiration. Mara was simply one of the most gifted and caring people I have ever known. She has always had the rare ability to bring people together, to create a community. She will always be with me and with all of us.


LUKE ZAHNER’S REMARKS AT MARA GALATY’S MEMORIAL SERVICE

The last time I was here in the Hilton Ballroom, I was wearing Mara’s prosthetic breasts to a drag costume party. I absolutely never would have asked to borrow them, but when Mara heard about my geisha costume, she insisted I use them. “Why use tube socks when you can have the real thing?” she said. I think the most embarrassing part was having to drop them off with Carol in an innocent brown paper bag a few days later, hoping she didn’t know exactly what I had been doing with them in the first place. Mara promised she wouldn’t tell, and we all know how discrete she could be, but I wasn’t convinced.

I mention this not only because Mara would have loved the irony – we all know what a brilliant sense of humor she had. And I don’t mean her willingness to help a friend in a pinch, though there definitely was that. But Mara was determined to de-stigmatize her cancer, to show there was nothing to be ashamed, that she owned it and it didn’t own her. Her trademark openness was just one of her ways of accomplishing this. I think almost everyone in the room at one time or another probably saw Mara’s prostheses – she would take them out and pass them around when she was sitting in her USAID cubicle, or ask you to see “how real they feel” during a random coffee or lunch. At a dinner party we could always be assured that, even before the second bottle of Pinot had been uncorked, Mara would be passing the breasts around the room urging people to examine and squeeze them.

On occasion, people would be upset with the fact that she had cancer. They would sometimes tell her, “It’s just not fair.” Her reply was always that it wasn’t an issue of fairness. “It just is.” To her, it was just life, something she had to live with, and deal with, demonstrating along the way an enormous amount of courage, but making it look rather effortless most of time.

In the articles about Mara that have circulated recently, much has been made of her bridge-building and other skills, and her incredible accomplishments. That facet of her is definitely something that cannot be said enough – she was truly amazing. How could anyone but Mara have managed to get agreement on anything out of people from Kosovo and Serbia right after the NATO bombing of Yugoslavia? Indeed, how many people would even have tried? But she pulled it off, astoundingly. You have to wonder if Clinton had named Mara his special envoy to the Balkans instead of Dick Holbrooke, would Bosnia and Kosovo would both be in the European Union and NATO by now?

Having witnessed her in action countless times, I think her approach was probably best described as “constructive co-optation.” She made everyone she worked with want to achieve success as much as she, and she made sure everyone felt ownership of the final product. I’ve seen plenty of times where she brought around people, myself included, to her approach to a problem in such a way they thought they had come up with the idea themselves. When she would hear basically her original idea, or a close variant, repeated back to her, a broad smile would come across her face, and she’d say “That is amazing, what a great idea!” knowing that regardless of who got credit, a good idea was moving forward.

Fortunately for many of us, her creativity was not limited to professional endeavors. Vacation suggestions? Have you thought of Progresso, Mexico? Who gives the best backrub in the office? Step into Mara’s cubicle. And how many of us have gone to her for relationship advice? If I asked for a show of hands, I’d expect three quarters of the people here to raise them. Mara was the go-to person for just about anything.

Mara, of course, didn’t always know exactly where she wanted to go, and her creative process needed room to expand on occasion. You had to hand it to her, though -- she was determined to get everything just right. I imagine at one time or another she probably included most people in the room in her deliberations on how to renovate her DC apartment. Here her creativity was in full-throttle as she laid that place out. The bathroom sink had to be based on one she saw in Banja Luka, with a stone floor from I’m not sure where and a special bathtub from Italy. (How many people can boast of having a sink from Banja Luka?) And this is not even to mention the infamous recycled glass counters – three times she tried to get samples delivered before she finally gave up and got butcher block put in. Then there was the painting consultant. It’s funny, when I heard her describe the colors for the bedroom I remember thinking, hmm, white walls and a sky-blue ceiling…? But it actually looked great. It was so, Mara. As with so many of Mara’s ideas, personal, professional, or whatever – it just seemed to work.

I think the thing that struck those of us who met Mara for the first time at SAIS was, of course, her huge personality, the infectious laugh, her great smile….Another thing that stands out, even back then, was how busy she always seemed to be. While she always seemed relaxed, with had all the time in the world to be with you, she was in constant demand, always running a tad bit late or needing to run off to meet this friend or attend that appointment. She never wasted a minute, and this was something that remained constant even through her last cancer treatments.

My partner Chris once compared her to Hermione Granger from the Harry Potter series – as most of you will know, Hermione had this amulet that allowed her to be in two places at the same time. To Mara, a calendar was three-dimensional, and it worked! I don’t know how she did it, but she always found time for you – and if there was ever an emergency, she’d drop everything to come to your aid. And if her scheduled dinners or meetings overlapped, it was just the opportunity for more of Mara’s vast constellation of friends to meet, to intersect. Just another way she brought people together.

This leads to what several others have also said is probably the most amazing thing about Mara – the closeness, and intimacy, of her friendship with you. Times spent with Mara were utterly magical – regardless of anything else going on in her life, when you were with her, she was entirely yours, everything else would fall away and she focused on being with you. She made you feel so special. It is that richness of friendship, and deepness of connection, that Mara leaves behind, as her most precious legacy.

Thank you.


REMARKS AT MARA'S MEMORIAL BY LIZ McKEON

I will not share any of my dozens of Mara stories today. I would be unable to get through it. Instead, I would like to share a moment which I personally never witnessed, but that captures Mara so well. I share this story, by the way, with the consent of those who were there, and with their patient indulgence for the artistic liberties I will take in its retelling.

In the spring of 2005, three extraordinary people traveled to Kosovo. Their mission was to assess the likelihood that violence would erupt in that battered and fragile territory, and to recommend steps the US government could take to avert or mitigate conflict.

All three had significant experience in the Balkans. All three knew their own minds. All three had strong opinions. There was Liz Hume, a lawyer and mother of two-year old twins who traveled fearlessly to garden spots like Bosnia and Afghanistan. There was Ed Dickens, who with his suspenders, Yale education, voluminous memory and intuition for protocol made him the archetype of a State Department career foreign service officer, as if sent by Hollywood Central Casting. And then there was Mara.

The timing of the trip could not have been worse. Tension was rippling throughout the international community in Pristina. Just days before the team arrived, the Prime Minister had been indicted as a war criminal and was about to be sent off to The Hague. The US Office was uneasy, to say the least, and nearly sent the team home.

Long days of meetings turned into even longer nights of debate, as the team tried to figure out its common position on conflict. On the last night of the trip, the night when ideas, adrenaline and panic typically fill a room as the debriefing outline comes together, this team was falling apart. Patience was running thin. Nerves were frayed.

Ed, for his part, intellectualized how the response should fit into the US foreign policy framework. Liz couldn’t get past the misplaced emphasis on banking and small business development. But Mara was simply enthralled by the individuals and groups she had met over the previous two weeks. She continually brought up the potential to use a Mercy Corps type approach. She spoke passionately about a young Kosovar activist, who boldly wrapped police crime scene tape around the perimeter of the United Nations building, in a symbolic gesture to implicate the UN for its failure to restore stability. Over and over, Mara kept reminding her team of the importance of tapping into the creative power of NGOs as staple ingredients of conflict reduction.

As the night wore on, Ed grew impatient and finally lost it. “Mara,” his voice growing louder, “Stop talking about NGOs. You now work for G, as in GOVERNMENT, not an NGO.” With a vein now popping through his forehead, Ed continued, “There is no ‘N’ and no ‘O’ in your job! You, Mara, are now a CAPITAL ‘G’ and that is the end of the story!!”

The room fell silent. Liz avoided eye contact and stared at the keyboard. Ed retreated into his chair. After a pause, Mara took a breath, looked at Ed, cocked her head to one side and asked with a curious innocence, “Are you serious?”

Within moments, all three fell into a domino cascade of laughter. The jig was up. Ed’s defenses were shattered. Liz breathed easier. And all three of these extraordinary, accomplished, intelligent people finally let go and got to work.

This is what Mara did. She took everyone seriously, but she helped them not to take themselves so seriously. She possessed an uncanny ability to see all the interlocking pieces that made a watch keep time. This means that she never wore just one hat. Mara was never a “G” or an “NGO.” She was an M-A-R-A.

In closing, I want to say that above all and until the moment she left us, Mara was absolutely reckless in the way she shared herself. Nothing illustrates that quite as well as her blog. It may have started as a way to lessen the demands on Mara to communicate to a wide circle of family and friends, but in the end the blog became a gift to all of us. For despite our sorrow in reading about the path of her disease, we also got to feast on the daily wisdom, humor, supportive comments, and memories of strangers with names like Zlatna and Ems and Bunyeta and Laura G and so many others. The blog became a meeting place where our celebration of Mara began. It became a practice ground where we learned to follow her example, and be reckless in the way we shared ourselves.


SALLY KUZ AND ANN BISGYER’S REMARKS AT MARA’S MEMORIAL SERVICE

I am honored to have been asked to represent Ann Bisgyer and to share my own thoughts about Mara, an extraordinary woman whom I was proud to call my friend. Ann is a close friend of Mara’s and a member of Mara’s Breast Cancer Support Group in Portland, Oregon, who unfortunately couldn’t be here today because of cancer related problems. Ann writes:

“Please close your eyes and remember the first time you met Mara. I can tell there are smiles on all the faces here today. That’s what Mara did – she made you smile. There was an inner glow about her that easily became your inner glow.

I remember the first time I met Mara; it was at a Retreat for Women with Breast Cancer. This was our first evening together and the facilitator had not started anything “official” yet. This is when you would normally let your hair down, kind of hard to do when 1/4 of us were bald but we were getting to know each other. Here was Mara sharing stories about her experiences and true to form within 10 minutes Mara had whipped out her prosthesis and it was wiggling and jiggling on the table. Before we knew what Mara was about she had all of us pulling out our prostheses, trying on other sizes, and generally throwing them around the room. Mara had us laughing hysterically.

And that is a lot of what we did together, we laughed and we cried. There were 4 of us in our breast cancer support group who built a special bond. We had dinner at least once a month and got together frequently. One of my favorite stories is when, after her “ex” had moved out and Mara was staying in the alone house until they could sell it, we all went over to cook dinner together. To cheer her up we stopped on the way and got Mara a pair of sexy red underwear – you always need a new pair of sexy red underwear. Then, at some point in the evening we decided to make it Mara’s house. We moved furniture, took down pictures, hung rugs and completely changed the house. The transformation had occurred. It was now Mara’s home for as long as she was going to live there.

Ann writes of the balancing act – living your life after a cancer diagnosis. She recalls a week Tuscany with 12 of her closest friends, including Mara, and how, as they were exploring the sights, eating the most delicious food in the world, walking through towns built centuries ago, they would lose Mara only to find her on the steps of some building, talking to DAVID. It was new then, but this was a love Mara was able to hold onto and grow with; even through the roughest bouts with cancer she and David were still planning for their future together!

Once Mara’s cancer metastasized, Ann was Mara’s link to the world of metastatic disease. Not a role Ann wanted to have, but she was determined to help because Mara had helped her in so many ways when Ann’s cancer had metastasized.

Ann closes her remarks with words from Hannah Senesh:

“There are stars whose light reaches the earth only after they themselves have disintegrated and are no more. And there are people whose scintillating memory lights the world after they have passed from it. These lights which shine in the darkest nights are those which illuminate the path for us.” Mara is my light.”

As for my own thoughts about Mara – like Ann, it was breast cancer that originally brought us together. We met through work, but our connection was a deeply personal one. Although we both lived in Washington, we met in Bulgaria at a civil society conference. Picture the sleek, modern Sofia Hilton. A big room with round tables, filled with activists from the region and their American partners. Intense conversations over coffee in the lobby. Mara’s element.

To me Mara personified a breath of fresh air. She was always in motion. She looked at the world with wide-open eyes. She communicated honestly and directly. She brought passion and commitment to everything she touched. She refused to be a victim of cancer or anything else. She was at home everywhere. No institutional or geopolitical boundaries, nobody’s cynicism or indifference, constrained her.

I will hold tightly onto two of Mara’s many gifts:

First, being with Mara was always an excursion from the mundane – an impromptu walking tour of Sofia on our last morning there. A quick trip to Fredrick in Mara’s dashing new sports car. A spur of the moment afternoon movie at the Avalon. Even a weeknight dinner at my house – juggling food, kids, homework, and piano – was a mini-vacation with Mara. Over such dinners Mara and I solved all of our personal problems. Then we moved on and solved all of the world’s problems.

The second gift that I will cherish is Mara’s distinctive aesthetic sense. Mara was drawn to beautiful things and created loveliness around herself, pulling together colors, textures, objects and images in glorious combinations. We saw this in her personal style, in her home, and even in her USAID cubical -- now that is a challenging canvas to paint! I believe that Mara’s passion for beauty was tied to her insistence that we not settle for the ordinary, that we fill our lives with meaning. When we were repainting our house, Mara spent hours helping us choose colors. Together we chose deep but muted greens and blues, a rich beige, lavender for our daughters’ room, and vibrant green for our kitchen. Now Mara’s colors surround my family and me every day.

Mara had so much important work still to do, so many connections between people still to make, and so much more beauty and affection to bring to our lives. But though we grieve for Mara, and though it saddens us to think of the lives she won’t grace, we know we are blessed to have known her, to have felt her love, and to have been strengthened and inspired by her wisdom and her courage. We will carry the gifts she gave us the rest of our lives.

When we realized how ill Mara was, we all hoped and prayed for a miracle. I know now that we already had our miracle: It was Mara.


DAVID MEES’ REMARKS AT THE COMMEMORATIVE SERVICE FOR MARA

I’ve known a great love: Mara.

She and I met a few stones’ throws from here, at 1910 “S” street in April of 2004. I arrived at the party an hour and a half late. Maybe that’s why Mara felt a connection? Arriving late allowed me to stay late and chat after the others had left. How could I not like her: that beautiful, animated face with the expressive eyes, that inquisitive mind, her easy laugh! Later I learned her sweetness was genuine and came with wisdom.

That first day, looking her over, there was only one thing missing…um, two actually. A few days later I asked Mara for a date, though I called it “going for a walk with you.” Mara said Yes. The evening came; we talked and talked, though something was odd. I did not want to be rude and stare, but in the few glimpses I caught, it appeared that this evening Mara was not flat-chested after all. After dinner we went for a walk. All the while I was doubting my powers of perception. I told her I liked her. Finally Mara “fessed up:” “They’re silicone.” “Really?!?” “Yes, I’m sorry.” She told me about the cancer, the double mastectomy. And then: “Do you like me still?” “Well, you’re still you, aren’t you?” That, apparently, was the right thing for me to say.

Mara and I loved each other’s company. We never tired of it and somehow never irritated the other. I was often bemused by Mara’s heavy social schedule. I’d gently scold her for wearing herself out. She in fact welcomed my company for it’s slowing-down effect. (Mara actually loved doing crossword puzzles and knitting.) She never put pressure on me to join her on the social circuit, leaving me free.

She quickly conquered my family with her charm, including Mary Louisa. My cousin’s four-year old had a big splinter in her foot that day. She would allow no one to help her with it or touch her until a total stranger named Mara came along. Mara somehow won Mary Louisa’s confidence instantly, made this into a fun project and persuaded the little girl they could get the splinter out without pain. Sure enough, it worked!

Mara had an affirming quality. She was not just life-affirming but you-affirming. She was entirely tolerant of my foibles, and would even encourage excesses, such as my purchase of a car with a twelve-cylinder engine. She loved that car for its not-slowing-down effect. And it did get us quickly to Tel Aviv and Damascus.

By the way, Mara was a fabulous navigator. Whether we were in the middle of Vermont or the capital of Syria, Mara always knew where to go next. We did get lost once in Tunisia, and found ourselves at the border with Algeria. We turned around and after an hour and a half, way beyond paved roads, were rewarded with a treat from the ancient world. At our destination we took our clothes off and luxuriated privately in a thermal bath built by the Romans. The two stone lion heads were no longer used as spigots, but hot air still emanated from their open mouths. Our 3 ½ years together were packed with romantic moments like that.

Mara was not a religious person. She was, however, spiritual and believed in life after death. She said that her spirit would live on in all the people she had known. It is no coincidence that she was a godmother four times over. She could never just buy one present, especially for a child.

Mara loved the idea that came via the blog that we all help someone or some cause on her birthday, March 29. Let’s do it! Mara’s family and some of her friends and I had the idea for some sort of Mara Fund. After Nancy Brinker and others at the Komen for the Cure organization offered to play their part, we decided that this too would be a very real way that we could give meaning to, and celebrate, Mara’s life. As we have just heard, Mara “handled” her cancer extremely well. It was never about her and her suffering. Mara, as was her wont, thought of others and shared. And she did so in her typical un-embarrassable way. She would be thrilled to see Komen for the Cure, using her example and using contributions made in her name, making strides to limit the suffering of future cancer patients and to limit the incidence of fatal cancer. 3 The specific focus of the fund will be the thing that Mara was so good at: Countering shame. And it will do much of that - as Mara would have done - abroad, where shame is often the major obstacle to early detection. If you would like to contribute, there is information in the program. And here is yet another way Mara’s spirit may live on.

This is Mara’s own idea: She always said that if she made it to 40, she was going to throw a big birthday bash. On the day she learned that the doctors had given up hope, she told me she would still want us to have a big party on her 40th birthday in 2009. For the organization of this world-wide event I nominate you, Carol Galaty! We’ll want program booklets.

In closing, I will share the last thing Mara said to me. It was just two words, a common expression, but also typically Mara. These words were meant for you as well. She spoke them on Thursday, November 1, and she conveyed them again --I’m convinced-- the next day, after she had been brought home. But this time she no longer spoke. She looked me in the eye with deep intensity. It was a simple: “Thank you!!