Marie A. Novak

Marie Novak, (“Baba”), of North Riverside, was granted her final birthday wish on December 9, 2024 when at 99, she died peacefully in the home that her late husband, Steve, helped build back in 1950. The fact that Marie departed in December feels especially sacred to the family. Throughout her life, Marie both celebrated and grieved this particular month—the month she first met her husband and the month he departed after passing away in 2001.

Marie was born, the last of 3 surviving children, in Czechoslovakia on May 23, 1925 in the small town of Lužice. Her parents were farmers and she spent the majority of her childhood working in the fields or assisting her mother with domestic chores. She later attended school in the nearby town of Hodonín and remembers her mother instilling the importance of an education because “no one can take that from you.” When Marie was 14, World War II broke out and her country was invaded by Nazis and then the Russians. At one point, Marie was forced to hide in the attic while Russian soldiers inhabited their home.

On Christmas Eve in 1944, Marie chanced upon her future husband, former Lužice villager turned American soldier, Steve Novak, at Midnight Mass. The young soldier, who was on leave, visiting his family for the holidays, noticed the familiar, beautiful girl in the church pew and from there began a 2-week courtship that would blossom into an epic love story.

The pair wrote letters across the Atlantic for two years until Steve sent an engagement ring, asking Marie to be his wife in the United States where he worked as a carpenter. With only a small trunk of clothing, a loaf of bread, and a ring she assumed was glass, Marie embarked on the bravest adventure of her life without knowing a word of English.

After disembarking in New York, Marie insisted they get married right away “because there would be no hanky-panky” and they recruited two strangers off the streets to serve as witnesses. Upon settling in Chicago, their daughter, Jan, was born in 1949, and a year later, thanks to the GI Bill, the couple purchased their North Riverside home, a home that Marie would reside in for over 70 years. In 1954, their son, Mark, was born and the couple raised both children with the industrious, immigrant mindset of working hard and spending less. They practiced a fierce devotion to others in their community and a general frugality when it came to anything else. It was infinitely better to do a favor than to owe one. After enduring hardships of war, they weren’t going to complain about consuming short-dated head cheese off the A&P discount rack or sewing knee patches into torn pants.

Marie was an adept homemaker with an array of talents that ranged from cooking, baking, sewing, knitting, and gardening, to bowling in a women’s league every Monday night. During Easter, she intricately hand-painted dozens of blown eggs with traditional Moravian ornamental designs, many of which she gifted to family and friends. Her cellar was perennially bursting with canned tomatoes, homemade jams, and pickles. The woman even made her own soap out of bacon grease, a magical remedy adept at eliminating any stain. Nothing was wasted or thrown out. Expiration dates were myths. Ziploc bags were washed and reused. Wrapping paper was meticulously preserved, never ripped. To-go containers were repurposed as holiday cookie platters for friends and neighbors. Even on her death bed, Marie was scolding her family for throwing out her toothpick after a single use.

To remark that Marie had a green thumb was a colossal understatement. Plants flourished in her care, even coming back to life. Her sink was frequently framed with vessels of water containing clippings that had sprung improbable, fledging roots. She once kept alive a runty $9.99 poinsettia from Jewel Osco for over half a decade. Her garden was something to behold—peonies, roses, hydrangea bushes, and black-eyes Susans alongside a hearty summer crop of tomatoes and cucumbers. She relished being outside in the sunlight, weeding and pruning, shielded by her white bucket hat. Her home smelled perpetually of English lavender, but she had a soft spot for poppies and gardenias, really anything that bloomed.

Marie’s baking prowess was unmatched and she regularly churned out dozens of cookies and strudels for local church events, weddings, baptisms, and funerals. Even her dentist received a lavish cookie tray every Christmas. In 2008, her apricot kolacky—powder-sugar-dusted works of art—won First Place in Chicago Tribune’s Holiday Cookie Contest, a recipe that was subsequently published in their commemorative cookbook. The woman was a firm believer in slathering butter on most everything, and as she aged, she clung to the argument that it couldn’t be that bad for you if she was still here.

Sewing was another of Marie’s true passions and she took great pride in making many of her own clothes, including an intricate gold dress etched in lace that she wore to both her daughter’s and then later, granddaughter’s wedding. Throughout her life, Marie demonstrated her love time and time again as an accomplished seamstress in service to others: mending clothes, adjusting hems, and reinforcing loose buttons.

Before her grandchildren were born, Marie worked for nine years at the Cook County Administrative office in the city of Chicago in the tax department. She retired soon after, eager to spend time with the next generation in her family—youngsters who would’ve never been born if not for her bravery all those years ago. It was at this time that she was granted a new name—a name that would stay with her for the next 44 years and beyond. Over the years, this name was sewn on kitchen aprons, etched onto softball spectator trophies, painted on children’s watercolors, and scribbled in birthday cards. It was a name adopted by neighbors and friends and even her doctor. She was anointed this name by her first granddaughter, the one who couldn’t pronounce the Czech word for grandmother, but instead, babbled the word, “Baba”. And thus, from then on, that’s who she was.

Up until Baba entered hospice a few weeks before her death, she prided herself on her independence, never wanting to leave the comfort and familiarity of her own home. Her biggest fear was becoming a burden to her family or friends. At her 94th birthday celebration, she insisted on baking her own chocolate cake. She often prayed for God to grant her the serenity to pass on at home where she was most comfortable. As a lifelong member of Mater Christi Catholic Church, Baba was a devoted Catholic who found great solace in attending Midnight Mass every year she was physically able, in honor of her late husband.

Marie was a tough, yet tender matriarch who appreciated a good Manhattan, insisted on ringing in the New Year with a tin of herring, and coveted the crusty heel from a loaf of fresh bread. Her grandchildren fondly remember her poppy seed buchta, her perfectly cylindrical jelly roll, her savory red cabbage, and her dumpling soup made from scratch—those doughy pillows bobbing to the surface, infusing the entire house with the scent of mouth-watering broth. They recall her long almond nails that scratched their backs at bedtime, the endearing way she pronounced the word ‘garbage’, her outstretched wave from the sidelines at sporting events, and her silhouette in the doorway, calling after them to be careful as they reversed out of the driveway.

Marie was preceded in death by her husband of 54 years, her parents, Jan and Lucy Tuma, one sister, and one brother of the Czech Republic, and her son-in-law, Charles Dressel.

She is survived by her two children, Jan Dressel of River Forest and Mark Novak (Mary) of Westchester, 3 grandchildren: Emily Hampson (Brad), Amy Pritchard (Bryan) and Blake Dressel (Maggie), and 4 beloved great-grandchildren whose visits she adored: Brady, Bridget, Jack and Grace. In addition, a wide array of lovely friends and neighbors will miss Marie’s poignant stories over tea and cookies as well as her flourishing garden. Baba made friends everywhere she went.

A Celebration of Life and Prayer service will be held at Woodlawn Funeral Home at 7600 Cermak Ave in Forest Park, IL on Monday, December 23rd. Visitation from 6pm. Service at 7:30pm. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Sokol Spirit of Brookfield, IL or Moravian Cultural Society of LaGrange. May you hold your loved ones close this December, retell your familial stories, and lift a glass to Baba and her full and remarkable life.

Info 708-442-8500 or www.woodlawnchicago.com