Hello,
This is Jean Lehmann, Henry Lehmann’s daughter. I have many cherished memories of Mary Smerken. I just learned of Mary’s death and hope my tribute is not too late. I consider her a family member. She worked in our house as my father’s legal secretary for almost 20 years starting in about 1967. My father’s offices were in the front three rooms of our house. That meant that every morning Mary came into the kitchen or sat at our dining room table having a cup of coffee with my mother, Virginia. Often she ate lunch with us and was just generally a part of my life. I knew I could tell her anything and she would not judge. When I shared incidents about my life, both good and bad, she would get a cute smile on her face and giggle. She did not judge. Her joyous attitude about life’s foibles made everyone around her feel better about the world. She thought the best of everyone with whom she came into contact and had a wonderful outlook on life.
She and my mother were dear friends. They spent a lot of time laughing with and at each other. I remember Mary asking me if I had listened to my mother’s answering machine message. My mother had used a faky southern accent to theatrically announce, “I will be delighted to talk to you”. Mary thought it was hilarious. I knew her humor showed her loving understanding of my mother’s ridiculousness. Mary also was adventurous, ready to travel. So it was Mary who drove with my mother to help me move from Wisconsin back to the house in Matteson, Illinois. She was always there for me during my life. She never seem to grow old and was a great role model.
Mary was an amazing secretary—actually a paralegal or should have been if she wasn’t. My mother used Mary’s services for her legal matters. I have copies of family files and deeds they worked on, I recognize Mary’s neat handwriting. My mother trusted her completely and appreciated her competence. Mary was such a part of the household that when my father retired and Mary took another position with a lawyer, my mother gave her the desk she sat at for so many years. It was Mary’s. During all her time at our house, I never heard her complain once about our pets. She put up with dogs and cats running under her feet hoping to get extra morsel of food from her whenever she came to the kitchen.
When my father died, Mary joined the rest of the immediate family in spreading my father’s ashes—illegally in the construction zone of the Matteson Library for which ground had just been broken. We agreed that since my father enjoyed the library a lot in his last years we should put his ashes there. I remember all of us climbing around construction materials, past the do not enter sign, in the darkness of night, trying to avoid falling into trenches as we sprinkled his ashes. My mother and Mary kept repeating, “Henry would be so upset with us. He would say we were going to get arrested. Didn’t you read the sign?” And then they would burst into peals of laughter, delighted with the situation. It was the perfect way to grieve.
After our minor foray into crime, we all went to the ice cream shop called Mitchell’s and ate big hot fudge ice cream sundaes. Mitchell’s was a tradition with Mary. Whenever I came home we would eventually manage to get to Mitchell’s. Naturally when my son was young and we visited Illinois, we found ourselves at Mitchell’s. I remember my son, Andrew, as a 4 year old saying he wanted a banana split which was a huge dish. I objected but Mary completely overruled me. She believed you let people get what they wanted and didn’t worry about if they could finish it or not. “Why not. It has banana in it so it’s good for him,” she said. Andrew loved it and her. She was so generous and thoughtful with him. I also knew how much she cared for her family. She talked about everyone with great pride and unconditional love.
The last time I saw her was after my mother’s funeral. I was in my mother’s apartment frantically trying to pack everything up as I mourned. There was a soft knock at the door and in came Mary bearing some delicious treat. She sat down and we talked about my mother. We laughed swapping stories about the fun times we had all had together. Mary helped me sort through my mother’s things. It was so perfect to have that moment alone with her; just the two of us. Her memory was already slipping, but barely. She mentioned it, though not in a depressed way but as a fact of life. She planned to move to Washington State. I knew it was the end of an era. Our time together that day was precious--it was like old times. I miss her.