Marian was my friend for 37 years. We met when I was in my first year of medical school, and she was a graduate student. We were both at Stanford, both living in Hammarskjold House, a co-op for students interested in international issues. We went our separate ways soon after that year, and probably only actually visited with each other a half dozen times since. Yet each of those times stands out to me as a watershed moment. Marian was such a good person, so kind and non-judgmental, so open and loving, and so inspiring to me in so many ways. I want to pick one short story to try to illustrate my lifetime of loving Marian. I was at a very difficult time in my life, at the end of my medical residency, and I came to Santa Fe and Marian took me backpacking in the Sangre de Cristo mountains. We didn’t have much of a planned itinerary (thanks to Marian, not me – I would have planned the life right out of the trip if it had been up to me) and the trip was magical. We slept by a beaver dam and got to see the beaver. We made miniature fantasy gardens out of forest floor debris. We braved the wild winds at the top of the Continental Divide. And we crossed paths with a boy scout troop and its smallest member. After all the leaders and boys had marched past us, there was one tiny scout way behind, his backpack half apart and half dragging in the dust. Marian and I didn’t even need to confer; we just collaborated to help him. We brainstormed fixes for his pack, from our own supplies, we gave him water and a snack, we made sure he wanted to keep going, and we hurried with him to catch up to the pack and make sure he was seen and heard and not likely to be forgotten again. I know – because we talked about it after – that we both saw something of ourselves in that little lost scout, and were moved to help. To be a true guiding friend, one has to listen deeply, and I always felt listened to by Marian. I suspect she was a guide in some way, to all who loved her. Thank you for letting me share that story.
Antoinette Rose