To close out this presentation on our Mayflower roots, I’ll skip across my Mammy’s very eventful adult life to this scene from its last year, 1967-68. She appears here in the office that Pappy occupied as President of the French Mission at 3, rue de Lota, in the XVIième arrondissement of Paris.
I’m at a loss to convey how impressively she magnified her rôle as mission president’s wife, as indeed she did every calling, assignment, and volunteer opportunity that I ever saw her undertake. One measure might be the outpouring of love and grief on two continents when she died in an automobile accident, one year into their three-year mission. I remember it; I was overwhelmed by it; and I’m unable to communicate it adequately. I’ll try to address it as part of my personal history, of which she remains, of course, a central component.