Marcy M. Hattam

(August 1, 1954 – January 4, 2011)

Marcy Hattam passed away on January 4, 2011, with her family and friends holding her. Marcy had fought an excruciatingly long battle with multiple sclerosis. Miraculously, and most certainly an answer to prayer, she was able to again minimally speak in her final weeks, so she could once more hear and understand how loved she was.

Though you read these passing words on sheets of papers that will soon be gone, her family would like you to remember her for her wonderful heart. Marcy was a joy to everyone she knew. This is just a small part of her story.

Marcy was born in Fall River, Massachusetts on August 1, 1954. She was the first daughter, and second child, of her parents George Warren and Harriet Taylor. She had an older brother, Peter, and a younger sister, Betsy.

Marcy grew up in her youngest days in Massachusetts, but her most remembered years were in Virginia. Though not a “southern girl” in any stereotypical sense, she always considered Virginia her home, and its lakes, rivers, and changing seasons were always in her heart.

Teenage years are never easy, and certainly not so in the 1960’s. However, those years – for all their pain and sorrow – also brought exuberant change to the Nation, and also to Marcy. She loved music, and began writing poetry. She learned to play the guitar, and had a lovely singing voice. Her years at Langley High School in McClain, Virginia, were joyous for her, as she met lifelong friends and discovered herself. Marcy started playing folk music in local restaurants, and acquired a manager.

On graduating from high school, Marcy had two offers – one was through her manager, to go on tour and open for John Denver. The other was a scholarship offer from Colorado Women’s College. She chose the latter, though for many years she wondered what would have happened to her if she had started a signing career.

Colorado it was. Marcy learned to cross-country ski, and fell in love with the Rockies. The irony was not lost on her that she had refused a tour with John Denver, only to go live in that city.

Marcy’s life in Colorado was wonderful, and she had some great stories of her time there. One story she loved to tell her children, to show them how good fortune can come at odd times, was when she was working at Stapleton Airport in the gift shop, where she earned a commission on sales. Her commissions were basically non-existent, because rarely did they reach more than minimum wage. However, one day Cher breezed in, and quickly spent over $10,000.00 (in the 70’s!) on jewelry, making Marcy’s commission generous indeed.

Marcy became very loved in Denver by all who knew her, including her husband Mark. A story he likes to tell is how he was sitting in the back row on the first day of English class at CU Denver, when in walked a beautiful girl wearing a yellow and brown sun dress, and a large straw hat. There were two open seats left: one in the front row, one in the back row next to Mark. Marcy, not wanting to interrupt the instructor who had already started her lecture, went to the back row and sat next to Mark. They hit it off immediately, and whispered together the entire class (causing the professor to “shush” them once). When class was over, Mark asked Marcy which way she was going, and she said she had to take a bus to work. Mark asked which bus, and once Marcy told him, Mark said he was catching that bus also – technically true, since he did in fact take that bus and then talk to Marcy all the way across town.

Marcy got Mark a job at Lynnwood School in Denver, where she taught part time. Together they wrote and directed plays during the summer for children. Marcy used her artistic talent, and her many small helpers, to make set designs and costumes, while Mark adapted stories and wrote the scripts. Marcy also worked as an event coordinator at Larimer Square in Denver, similar to the Gaslamp District in San Diego.

Marcy and Mark were married at Our Savior Lutheran Church in Denver on October 30, 1982, after they had both graduated from CU Denver. Mark had accepted a writing job in Napa, California, though, so they headed west, and lived in Petaluma and Napa.

In Napa, Marcy became a tour guide at Beringer Brothers winery. She became quite an expert at all the different varieties of wine, and loved to tour all the vineyards in the region.

As much as they enjoyed Napa, Mark’s writing work took him to Southern California, where they moved to Glendale. In their first weeks there, Marcy and her precious cat Ketzel lived in a small motel room while Mark tried to find them a place to live. They ultimately found a small back house, which they made home.

While in Southern California, Marcy worked at both the Sierra Madre Girl Scouts Council and the American Diabetes Association as an event planner. She had been a girl scout most of her youth, and wanted to give back to the organization she had loved. Similarly, Marcy had been a diabetic since the age of 9, and worked very hard to try and battle that disease, so working for the ADA was a pleasure for her. (In fact, Marcy was in one of the very first test projects for individual meters, so if you or a friend uses a blood sugar meter today, it was because Marcy and others like her allowed themselves to be “guinea pigs” for those tests.)

When Meredith Lee Hattam was born in 1987, the only place her crib would fit in the small two-room “house” was in the kitchen. Meri almost died at birth, with a very low blood sugar that required her to be in intensive care for a week, but Marcy’s wonderful doctor from Argentina, Hugo Riffel, helped save Meri. Marcy and Mark later had two more children in Glendale, Mason John Hattam in 1991 and Miles Bryant Hattam in 1993.

Marcy always knew that she wanted a family, and she did everything in her power for her children. When Mark decided to go to law school, he still had to work full time to support the family. Therefore, he worked all day and went to law school at night at Loyola in Los Angeles. Marcy was left at home with three small children to take care of, pretty much as a single mom, since Mark did not get home until 1 or 2 in the morning.

Marcy loved taking her children to Memorial Park in Upland, a few blocks from home, where every year thousands of vivid yellow Monarch butterflies would dart between the trees, with Meri and Mason chasing them, and Miles rooting his siblings on from his stroller. The glories of spring and new life were never ignored by Marcy.

During this time, Marcy was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. She had suffered many unusual symptoms over the years, but had been told by doctors that they believed they were related to her diabetes. However, later tests showed it was MS. Though shocked at first, Marcy knew there was nothing to do but continue to thank God for her life and to enjoy the sun, the wind, and the rain. She loved the rain. She would stand outside and simply glory in the rain. MS would not stop her thrilling to the beat of life. She began various auto-immune therapies developed for MS.

Marcy listened to Joni Mitchell, picked brilliant flowers, did her watercolor painting, and kept on with them all no matter what the future might bring. The day that Mark passed the bar and became a full-time lawyer at Allen Matkins in Irvine was a day that Marcy’s hard work had finally reached fruition. She and Mark cried together, and a new life as a “professional” family began.

Ultimately, they relocated to San Diego, where Mark had lived while in the Navy, and where he took up shop at the Allen Matkins office on Broadway. Mark and Marcy agreed that they were tired of long commutes, and they would live within 15 miles of downtown San Diego no matter what. After visiting different parts of the city, they decided on Bonita, where they then lived for the past 15 years. They became part of the local area, and settled in. Their children grew up here, and it became the “home” they had always wanted. They used to joke together that they were so tired of moving their accumulated stuff that the next time they moved it would be “with a flamethrower.”

Bonita was wonderful for Marcy. The local wilderness areas reminded her of Virginia, and she could stop at a small produce stand near the house and buy fresh fruits and vegetables. She made such an impact on the locals that even today -- a decade after she shopped at the Von’s down the street -- local clerks still remember her and ask about her.

Despite Marcy’s best efforts, she slowly deteriorated, losing the ability to drive, and then to walk. She still would make it to Meri’s soccer games, Mason’s Little League, and Miles’ early football games. She would still watch Seinfeld reruns with Mark, and enjoy the sounds of life around her.

Marcy was lovingly cared for at home for many years by Christine Hidalgo and Cindy Hill, and then near the end of her life by caring staff at Country Hills, and by Chris who saw her daily. Marcy’s children came to visit her every week.

Though doctors many times told Mark she was at death’s door, she always fought back. In fact, last year immediately after having a new operation in Mexico pioneered by doctors in Italy and at Stanford, Marcy suddenly began to speak a little bit again – which she had not done for quite some time. In her final week of life, she even gave her husband a kiss, and when he complimented her on being such a fighter, she said in a quiet but firm voice, “I am a fighter.” She gave all she had, and then left us.

Marcy’s life was vibrant, vivid, joyful, and exuberant. Her thrill in living was summed up in these words she wrote: “I love knowing the feeling of life pouring through me, and when it reaches my toes it bursts into skipping dances.”

As you read her story here, her family knows she would want nothing more than that each of you would touch and feel and sense and exult in the Lord’s blessing of life, a blessing which though cut too short for her, we all still have.