Legacy: Margie Arrington

Interns are notorious in DC. They swarm the city, wearing their badges to happy hour (oh, this? I can’t believe I forgot to take off this indication of my status!), standing on the left side of the escalators on the metro (a DC no-no), and talking too loud. Really loud. In my mind, the very special breed of annoying is the museum intern.

A while back I was sitting in the office, doing some officey kind of work, and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on these two interns that were working in the same area. And when I say I couldn’t help but overhear, I mean it was impossible to ignore these two girls because they were talking really loud.

They were apparently researching clothing worn by people during the late eighteenth century, and came across some super-cute stuff.

Intern 1: “Gawd, Thomas Jefferson had really cute outfits, I wish we could find something like that in a vintage store or something.”

Intern 2: “You know what? When my grandmother died, I got the BEST clothes.”

All I could think was, hey, maybe your parents will die too, then you'll get some REALLY high-quality stuff!

In light of the disturbingly calloused remarks about a deceased grandmother’s excellent fashions, I started thinking about my sweet grandma who passed away 2 years ago, tomorrow.

Well, “sweet” may not be the best word to describe Margie. Better words would be sassy, irreverent, opinionated, and head-strong. She was one-of-a-kind, and in our family whenever one of us says something particularly snarky, we know it’s Margie talking.

The “stuff” I received after her passing is so typically her that I think her spirit is accurately represented in my legacy:

1. multiple long flowy skirts with food stains on them
2. huge plastic black bead necklace with matching (rhinestone) earrings
3. a gorgeous dining room table, the beauty of which is ruined by the laminate glued-on top
4. a black-sequined sparkly beret

She grew up in the Depression, in a convent, raised by nuns, and I’m not even kidding. I think partially because of this upbringing she didn’t buy herself expensive clothes or jewelry, and would hang on to clothes long after she had dribbled food on them. (Hey, they’re still good!) And maybe this is why she let some furniture-store jerk convince her to put laminate on such a beautiful table. The sparkly beret is sort of a question mark, but I like to think it represents her uniqueness. It’s not as if she was afraid to spend money; she was incredibly generous to all of her kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, and practically any association that send her a letter in the mail.

Probably the most famous Margie story involves her time as a nurse. One day at the hospital a woman gave birth to a beautiful baby who had a big head of black hair. As Margie carried the baby to the nursery, she decided the hair was just too much. By the time the new mother saw her newborn, that baby’s head had been shaved. And what’s the problem?

Another incident is Margie in her later years, after my grandfather died, when she was living an independent, and frankly more social life than most her age (or my age). Apparently she got in a minor tiff with her man-friend who lived down the street, so one night she snuck down there and TP-ed his house. Yes, my 80 year-old grandmother wrapped toilet paper on the trees in front of her boyfriend’s house.

Margie was, to me, and I think to many others, someone from whom approval was always desperately sought. She didn’t give affection or praise very easily, so any gift was one to be cherished. I will always hold on to the plastic jewelry, but her most important legacy was a spirit of independence, candor, intelligence, and generosity. She was an incredibly strong woman, to the end, and I miss her.