On May 6th, 2011 Mary Claire Rita Wiley Sullivan passed into the arms of God and joined those of our clan who have gone before. She was the daughter of Boom Boom and Boompa; sister of Helen; wife of Big Sully, sister-in-law of John, Bob, Darlene, Sister Nan and Sister Margaret; mother of Jim, Mary Fran, John, Mike, Matt, Anne, Jerry, Margy and Patty; mother-in-law, grandmother; great-grandmother; aunt; cousin and friend of hundreds more.
She was a woman of terrific wit, faith, humor, intelligence and love. Her great gift was always to love and to be loved. Indeed, one of her favorite songs was "Love Makes the World Go 'Round."
Born in Chicago on August 4, 1926, Mary Claire danced on the Irish radio show in Chicago as a young girl, and could do the "shtep" and the Blackbird until her little frame wouldn't support her. Men loved to dance with her but she had only one man her entire life and she is with Big Sully now.
She was a pre-med student at Marquette in 1946 who gave up a career in medicine to marry a returning bomber pilot, thrice-wounded, newly released from a POW compound. He was head over heels in love with her and she with him. Now she rests with him in formation, in the same grave, with the others of the 8th Air Force at the National Cemetery at March Air Force Base in Riverside, CA.
We miss you and love you, Mom. Please continue to watch over all of us down here. Below is Mom's eulogy compiled and written by Jim.
God bless us and save us and keep us from harm.
Love, Patty & Jim
Dear Hearts,
We gather to say farewell to Mary Claire Rita Wiley Sullivan, born 4 August 1926 in Chicago, and died 6 May 2011 in Orange, California. She lived for 30,956 days. She was the child of a pure Pole, Boompa, and a pure Gael, Boom Boom, and she looked Spanish, with her fair complexion and dark black hair and hazel eyes.
She was part Wilcoszewski and part Sheehan; part Zinn and part Maloney; part Gorczynski and Grabska and Nowierska; part Corbett and Fitzgerald and McNamara. But what she really was, was pure Sullivan.
She was astonishingly beautiful. She had many important qualities that stood out very strong in her life, every day. First, she had maybe the most precious attribute among humans. She was truly innocent, in the same way that the good people are innocent. She saw no problem with reaching all the way out there, as far as you could go. She was an idealist. She passed this to us, and it affected everything else about her.
Secondly, she did not really count cost, hardly ever, hardly about anything. And she did not really count price; in fact she was largely unconcerned about most things, most of the time. But she really cared, deeply and strongly, about value. This showed up in many little ways. For instance, she could make a little odd tidbit of carefully prepared and uniquely combined food so that the one little bite was a feast- we all experienced that, usually with Mom, one-on-one, by ourselves with her in the kitchen at some odd hour.
Or her perpetual mantra about the most important thing is to love and to be loved, and that meant pull for the underdog, the “left-out” kid, the poor or impaired or unpopular one. Her heart went out to that segment of the world and she told us to put our hearts out there too, and we did- we learned that from her. John’s picture and memory of Mom is that she was always concerning herself with the well-being and comfort of others.
Gary said- and he was clear that he was speaking for both himself and Mary Fran- “The lesson for both of us, Mary Fran and me, was that Mary Claire taught us how not to judge. She never judged anyone. And she taught this by example and not by word. We talked about it for years. It affected our lives, and does to this day.”
Matt said, “I think the most outstanding quality of our mother was her enormous personal generosity. As a child and growing into manhood it was always a given that my mother would at any time happily lay her life down for me.” We have all experienced that generosity from her, over and over.
She was ferociously brave- she would have been a fearsome warrior, except that she couldn’t hurt a fly- but her valor was astounding. In the early sixties, before ATM’s, Dad was stuck at a steel mill in Alabama and wouldn’t be home for a few days- Christmas Eve- and we were short of cash, but needed a Christmas tree set up before Christmas Eve. So Mom planned a caper. She got her three oldest sons and gave us a mission briefing. It was a well-planned and co-ordinated maneuver, and we stole a Christmas tree right off the lot. There was a diversion, Mom drove the getaway car, and the three of us hoisted the tree and held it on the car roof as we sped away down the alley. Of course, Mom had made it very clear that this was only a temporary theft, and that we would go in and pay for it as soon as Dad got home, and that you really shouldn’t steal.
She went in and paid up in two days, explaining to the owner of the lot. He laughed and said that the story was worth it. He should never have told Mom that. Because we then had to steal a tree every year thereafter, and later, go in and explain ourselves. It got so that the owner just expected it and planned on it, and had a good laugh with Mom. Years later I ran into the owner’s son and he told me how much his father liked that annual event and looked forward to it. He would say, “Look, there’s Mrs. Sullivan and her crew- gonna pull a job.” Then he’d laugh.
She had a knack for that stuff.
Margy asked me to say this: “If you can possibly add a couple things that we younger ones witnessed a lot - she was like the pied piper to children - she would volunteer in my classroom and my students would spontaneously cheer when she arrived. Right in the middle of a lesson! Her green thumb was also legendary - people in the neighborhood in Upland would bring her their plants to be "cured" and she always delivered. She was a thoughtful observer of any living thing that was faltering - whether that was a child with the chicken pox or a geranium that needed pruning. Lastly, as a grandmother she saw ONLY the goodness in her grandchildren - and what a gift it was for those grandchildren to have that person in their life that held this wonderful vision of them even when they were naughty. :)”
Of course, Dad was right in there with her, and were they ever a pair. And was that ever a love affair. She made her choice as a pre-med student to forego her career in medicine and to marry the newly-returned, thrice-wounded combat bomber pilot just liberated from a POW compound, and she always said she never regretted it for a moment.
And then there was her insistence on value in diction and grammar and gentility, especially to those less fortunate. To this day I can never speak disrespectfully to a waiter, nor can my children, by that example. And that was straight from Mom. But she would say “It doesn’t cost a penny to speak properly and correctly.”
She also sought value, for all of us, in the realm of character. Jerry remembers “Mom taught me how to do the right thing even when it was unconventional, unpopular or uncomfortable.” Remember “The smallest bowl of pudding gets the highest place in heaven.”?
Of course, that may have been more a management function at the time. I recall her waking me because I had to meet some classmates in the library on Saturday morning in winter to finish a class project due Monday, in 6th grade. I begged her to let me sleep in and she said these words, which I cannot forget: “OK, you do what you want, but you will look back on this moment as a milestone in the forming of your character, one way or the other.” Yikes. I rolled out. She inspired me and still does, with that simple utterance.
Her third attribute of import was her incredible sophistication. She was intellectually sophisticated, if you could ever get her to be serious. And then, she would veer off into the comedic side of most discussions, I think because she just couldn’t help it. Her humor was pretty sophisticated too. Laughter was a big part of our house. As Mike wrote. “… laughter, laughter, laughter…”
Then there was her physical sophistication, or maybe that is better said as “toughness.” She was always a little woman in weight, although fairly tall in her prime, 5’ 6 or more, but I remember how formidable her 120 pounds was. She could pack a fair wallop, and she had 9 consecutive healthy babies without a miss. Disgusting messes and disgusting situations never seemed to bother her too much, either.
Anne says, “And Willis remembers that she followed him up his little boy shortcut from the Mediterranean Sea to our house in Sardinia, through people's yards and over garden walls--and she was seventy years old at the time.” She was a tough one.
Then there was her cultural sophistication. She could sing like a bird, and danced wonderfully, and went right along with Dad in some of his hoe-downs, where he would get wound up on the dance floor and dance like a kangaroo, and she was right there with him; but also she could do the ancient Irish “shtep” and the Blackbird and the Stack of Barley. She and her sister Helen were famous for dancing on the radio, on “The Irish Hour” listened to by the homesick Irish from the West of Ireland. The program would put the microphone down at the floor level so the girls’ feet could be heard. In Boom Boom’s neighborhood, all the old Irish guys loved to dance with Mom, but she only ever had eyes for the one Big Sully, father of her children, and mate for life.
She played the piano and she understood music, its nuance and spirituality. I remember her imparting some of that to me. Anne also said, “Could you please mention that Mom was the best piano player I ever knew? That she could convey emotion through piano keys? She could make music bounce, roll, or flow? And Claire mentioned today that Mom moved like everything was a dance, and that Mom could play one song that "tickled.”
And languages. She spoke French and German and some Gaelic, and taught us our prayers in those languages. The Hail Mary in German, the Sign of the Cross and the Prayer to the Holy Spirit in French. My son Amos once gave thanks for the depth of culture he was exposed to in all the branches of his family, and there was a big dose of it straight from Mom.
Patty sums it up: “I believe mom was a true teacher. Probably why we have so many in the family. I am amazed that she continued to teach me profound lessons up until her last breath."
The fourth and maybe most telling point about Mary Claire is what people who are not her children say about her. Look at our spouses. They all have a special relationship with her, each one.
Bitsy and Gary and Nancy and Joan and Malachy, although he didn’t get too much time with her, and Lorna and Brian and Big Andy. And they have deep and abiding love and affection for her, well past what is usual for a son-in law or daughter-in-law. Bitsy lost her Mom at 19 and when she first met Mom she said to me, “I love her. I’m grabbing her.”
Patty’s godfather, Alan Stachura, “Stach,” told me last week that “She was the very best Mom I ever saw. She made me think of the Blessed Mother.” I know Mom heard that and Stach got a lot of points.
It is true. She was the best mother we could ever have had. We love you Mom. You did your work so very well.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on us sinners, and please hold Mary Claire, who has loved you since her first day, in your Big Hand and close to Your Sacred Heart.
God bless us and save us and keep us from harm.
We believe Mom goes to stand in the line of Irish mothers, of which she is a member, just as her great grandmother, the famed midwife of the Corca Baiscinn, Honore Corbett Sheehan, stood with her and Margy, mystically, beyond time and space, when they were injured by an accident and shocked, and Lizzie’s life was at risk. That beloved line of beloved women has Mom now, and she is safe among them and held in highest regard.
And here is the old song with the words that Mom’s great-grandmother, Mary Fitzgerald Moloney, sang to Mom’s grandmother, Kate Moloney Sheehan, who sang them to Mom’s mother Mary Frances Sheehan Wiley, who sang them to Mom and to Mom’s daughter, Mary Frances Sullivan Merwin, the ancient Irish song Suil Aruin:
“Suil, suil suil aroon,
Suil go suchir agus suil go cuin,
Suil go dun d’orais, agus eilig luim,
S’go vellaigh mavourneen slan.
Come, come, come my love,
Come softly and swiftly,
Come to the door and away we’ll flee,
And safe, for aye, my darling be.”
And now we say to Mom:
“De is Moire guitch, agus slan a bhaile, mathair mo mhurnin.”
“God and Mary with you, safe home, Darling Mom.”
Her third attribute of import was her incredible sophistication. She was intellectually sophisticated, if you could ever get her to be serious. And then, she would veer off into the comedic side of most discussions, I think because she just couldn’t help it. Her humor was pretty sophisticated too. Laughter was a big part of our house. As Mike wrote. “… laughter, laughter, laughter…”
Then there was her physical sophistication, or maybe that is better said as “toughness.” She was always a little woman in weight, although fairly tall in her prime, 5’ 6 or more, but I remember how formidable her 120 pounds was. She could pack a fair wallop, and she had 9 consecutive healthy babies without a miss. Disgusting messes and disgusting situations never seemed to bother her too much, either.
Anne says, “And Willis remembers that she followed him up his little boy shortcut from the Mediterranean Sea to our house in Sardinia, through people's yards and over garden walls--and she was seventy years old at the time.” She was a tough one.
Then there was her cultural sophistication. She could sing like a bird, and danced wonderfully, and went right along with Dad in some of his hoe-downs, where he would get wound up on the dance floor and dance like a kangaroo, and she was right there with him; but also she could do the ancient Irish “shtep” and the Blackbird and the Stack of Barley. She and her sister Helen were famous for dancing on the radio, on “The Irish Hour” listened to by the homesick Irish from the West of Ireland. The program would put the microphone down at the floor level so the girls’ feet could be heard. In Boom Boom’s neighborhood, all the old Irish guys loved to dance with Mom, but she only ever had eyes for the one Big Sully, father of her children, and mate for life.
She played the piano and she understood music, its nuance and spirituality. I remember her imparting some of that to me. Anne also said, “Could you please mention that Mom was the best piano player I ever knew? That she could convey emotion through piano keys? She could make music bounce, roll, or flow? And Claire mentioned today that Mom moved like everything was a dance, and that Mom could play one song that "tickled.”
And languages. She spoke French and German and some Gaelic, and taught us our prayers in those languages. The Hail Mary in German, the Sign of the Cross and the Prayer to the Holy Spirit in French. My son Amos once gave thanks for the depth of culture he was exposed to in all the branches of his family, and there was a big dose of it straight from Mom.
Patty sums it up: “I believe mom was a true teacher. Probably why we have so many in the family. I am amazed that she continued to teach me profound lessons up until her last breath."
The fourth and maybe most telling point about Mary Claire is what people who are not her children say about her. Look at our spouses. They all have a special relationship with her, each one.
Bitsy and Gary and Nancy and Joan and Malachy, although he didn’t get too much time with her, and Lorna and Brian and Big Andy. And they have deep and abiding love and affection for her, well past what is usual for a son-in law or daughter-in-law. Bitsy lost her Mom at 19 and when she first met Mom she said to me, “I love her. I’m grabbing her.”
Patty’s godfather, Alan Stachura, “Stach,” told me last week that “She was the very best Mom I ever saw. She made me think of the Blessed Mother.” I know Mom heard that and Stach got a lot of points.
It is true. She was the best mother we could ever have had. We love you Mom. You did your work so very well.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on us sinners, and please hold Mary Claire, who has loved you since her first day, in your Big Hand and close to Your Sacred Heart.
God bless us and save us and keep us from harm.
We believe Mom goes to stand in the line of Irish mothers, of which she is a member, just as her great grandmother, the famed midwife of the Corca Baiscinn, Honore Corbett Sheehan, stood with her and Margy, mystically, beyond time and space, when they were injured by an accident and shocked, and Lizzie’s life was at risk. That beloved line of beloved women has Mom now, and she is safe among them and held in highest regard.
And here is the old song with the words that Mom’s great-grandmother, Mary Fitzgerald Moloney, sang to Mom’s grandmother, Kate Moloney Sheehan, who sang them to Mom’s mother Mary Frances Sheehan Wiley, who sang them to Mom and to Mom’s daughter, Mary Frances Sullivan Merwin, the ancient Irish song Suil Aruin:
“Suil, suil suil aroon,
Suil go suchir agus suil go cuin,
Suil go dun d’orais, agus eilig luim,
S’go vellaigh mavourneen slan.
Come, come, come my love,
Come softly and swiftly,
Come to the door and away we’ll flee,
And safe, for aye, my darling be.”
And now we say to Mom:
“De is Moire guitch, agus slan a bhaile, mathair mo mhurnin.”
“God and Mary with you, safe home, Darling Mom.”
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