My mother’s name was Marilu Robertson Eder. She was born on April 24, 1939, and died on September 20, 2016. It has been ten years since she passed, and I think about her most days. Recently, especially in times of turmoil, I ask my Mom and Dad for their advice. Their advice usually comes in my dreams; most mornings, between 4 am and 7 am, when I dream the deepest.
I was the first child of Marilu and Stan Eder. Dad called me the Love Child on Facebook, which makes my brothers and sisters smile.
My mother was a complicated woman. She gave birth to five children, raised them with my father, and spent her entire life encouraging us to fulfill our dreams. During this time, she also finished undergrad at Santa Clara University (going to class with my three sisters and me), earned her master’s degree there, and later served as the head of the Detention Ministry at Elmwood Women’s Prison.
Marilu was devoted to her husband, our father, Stan. They met when she was 17, and he was fifteen. Dad proposed 4 times, and Mom accepted on the fourth proposal. They were married for 57 years. Marilu had four grandchildren, whom she took for vacation, two at a time, for most of their teenage years.
Marilu taught by example. I drove her absolutely crazy. In fact, as I entered the Jesuit Seminary (short-lived), she sent me a note saying that we had ended in a draw. In 2013, I spent nearly two weeks in the hospital. I could have died. She and Dad spent the next month with me, helping me walk, making sure I ate well, slept well, and built up to walking a mile each way to work.
Here are eight Memories, from the many that I was fortunate to have with this amazing woman:
- A bus trip to see Grandma. I was just about five years old (1962-63). Mom was pregnant with my brother Brian. Mom held my sister Kathy, and the twins, Mary Lou and Mary Beth, were right there with me, the oldest. We took a bus from Lemp Avenue to Gravois. We changed buses. And then, we walked down Duke Street to Grandma Violet’s house (4343 Duke Street). We did this every time Mom had reached her limit and needed some time with her Mom. Mom had 5 kids by the time she was 24. I seem to recall some adults helping Mom get us on the bus. Fifty years later, I asked Mom how she did the whole bus thing. Mom looked me in the eyes, smiled, and said, “I had no car, your father was at work, and I needed to get out.”
- Moving to California (1974). Dad was a manager at Ford Motor Company’s Lincoln/Mercury plant. It was the first Fuel Crisis, and Ford moved 75 managers from St.Louis to Milpitas. I did not want to move. I was at DeSmet Prep, and I loved it! Mom and Dad went back and forth, but we moved in February 1974, taking the train from St.Louis to Kansas City, then KC to LA, and LA to San Jose. It was cheaper then by train than by plane. We had a train car with a bed for five kids, one dog (Cromwell), and two parents. It was one of the most wonderful trips that I have ever had. The move to California was the smart move and changed our lives.
- Breaking up (first time, 1976). It was the summer of 1976, and I had just broken up with my high school sweetheart. Mom was doing laundry in the garage. I told her that Kathy was going out with an older guy (21), and Mom smiled, “Well, honey, you can’t compete with that, maybe in a few years.” Mom was right. Kathy and I finally got together, nearly 40-plus years later. I hope that I have grown up.
- Watching my races (1972-1984). Mom and my brother Brian were there for my first race on September 11, 1972, at DeSmet. I finished dead last in my first race. Nine years later, in my senior year at Santa Clara, Mom and Dad saw me win a cross-country race, after a few hundred races.
- Seeing Mom hold Adam (1986). We flew to California to spend Christmas with our families. Mom held Adam for the first time in the airport. She and Adam always had a strong relationship. During his teenage years, Adam spoke to my Mom about alot, and they forged a wonderful relationship. I know it made my Mom happy to be with her four grandchildren, and it made me happy to see how close my Mother and Adam became.
Marilu Eder, with her grandson, Adam Johnson-Eder, 1992, from Eder family archives Calling Mom from Paris (2014). Mom encouraged me to travel. In 2014, I was living in California when I was not in Europe or Asia, traveling for work. I was in Paris to cover the Paris Marathon, and I was jet-lagged. It was 3 am in Paris, and I was walking down the streets near the Versailles Conference Center. Mom and I were chatting on the phone when several French kids smoking weed asked me who I was talking to. I told the kids it was my Mom, and they yelled, “Bonjour, Mama!” Mom cracked up.
- Mom in hospice (2016). Mom was in bed most of the last year of her life. Finally, she told Dad that it was time for her to go home. We took her home, and Dad did most of the daily assistance; I spent time with her each afternoon and sat outside her room at night. During hospice, I gave her morphine to dull the pain. Most days, she had five minutes where she could focus. I told her about the election and world news, and we chatted about family. I feel very fortunate to have been with her so much during that time.
- The hummingbirds. During Mom’s time at hospice, we spoke about how she would like to return as a hummingbird someday. Mom believed in reincarnation, among many spiritual concepts. I lived in the house from 2016-2020, after her death, and a metallic green hummingbird visited most days, dancing around my head as I worked at the picnic table on the patio. I prefer to think Mom was visiting me, dancing around my head and my computer. Ten years later, once or twice a year, a metallic green hummingbird visits my backyard in Wisconsin, where I sit at the same table from California and observe it.
Here’s a story I did on Mom and Dad a few years ago: https://www.runblogrun.com/2018/05/marilu-diaries-stan-marilu.html#.WvkLd_glSEI.buffer
