The Girl in the Plane

My wife's grandmother passed away a week ago. We were in Nevada over the weekend for the funeral.

By all accounts, Mary Ellen Davis was a remarkable woman. While she was still in her teens, she decided to take up the relatively new hobby of flying airplanes. My mother-in-law told the story of Mary Ellen's first solo, when an apple-cheeked young girl flew from Las Vegas to California, and strolled up to the local diner to find someone to sign her logbook. Naturally, she was met with a bunch of perplexed looks, as all the men wanted to know where the pilot was. I suppose this might demonstrate how the era was not altogether enlightened. On the other hand, she flew the plane. There's a fantastic picture of Mary Ellen in her plane, with her daughter, mother, and grandmother all in the shot.

It seems she and her husband were real forward-thinkers. They ran a furniture store, which led her to collect housewares that would become extraordinary pieces of modern art; designs by Noguchi, Eames, Herman Miller. Then she ran a record store, and always knew the latest sounds.

Clair said she wished I had met Mary Ellen. I have to agree. I'm told she could have a gruff nature, but she certainly sounds fascinating. I got a little glimpse of her, though. At the visitation, there was a picture of her on her wedding day, and she was wearing the most fantastic hat. It looked sort of triangular, and angled up sharply. It was very art deco. And it gave me a clue where my wife got her love of great hats.

I've been lucky, I suppose, in that my life has been relatively untouched by death. So the impact of two deaths in two months is more than a little sobering. Still, I guess my grandmother and Clair's grandmother were quite fortunate: they lived long, rich lives, and had a loved one nearby at the end.

We should all be so blessed.