Maryanne Barbara McLeod

Anyone who had ever met Mary Ann could easily see that her greatest pride was in her family and her heritage. She was a woman with many facets to her identity. A devout catholic, a strong mother, a gentle grandmother and a great grandmother many times. She had strong national pride, and at the same time was strong in her identity passed on from her ancestors as a Scott, Canadian-French, and Native American. Anyone who spent time with her knew that she had a full and impactful life because of her stories. Mary was a story teller. And if you sat down to listen, this is what she would tell you…

Mary Ann was born in 1933 in Shirley, Massachusetts to Regina and James Thomas. Both parents were very young. Her father James was born in Massachusetts and was adopted by the Thomas’, changing his last name from McClomiskey to Thomas. Mary’s mother on the other hand was a first-generation immigrant from Quebec in 1927. Within the next year, Regina and Thomas met and in 1929 had their first son, James Jr. The young couple lived in row housing, or tenements. These housing units were historically tight and occupied by multiple families at a time. For the time being Regina was a housewife, caring for James Jr, and then in 1933 baby Mary Ann. James the father worked as an elevator man in a paper mill. But by the time Mary Ann reached the age of 4 her father passed away at the young age of 25 do to heart disease. This changed the dynamics of the family dramatically. The same year as James’ death Mary’s younger brother, Arthur was born in 1937. Regina worked as a winder at Cordage Mill. At some point during the coming years two major events happened. The first is that Mary recalls that authorities took her and her brothers away from Regina. Likely do to financial hardship. The siblings were split up and placed in various Catholic orphanages. The second was Regina meeting a French-Canadian named Adelard Chaisson, who she met while delivering blankets and supplies to the Army depot. They married in 1942 and the family became more financially stable again allowing them to take the children home. A few years later this time with the addition of a new brother, Raymond, born in 1945.

As for most of the experiences Mary had growing up we only have stories to go by. Those stories told of hardship and struggle and harsh learning. But they also tell of endurance and family and love. It was during these years growing up that much of Mary’s strong character was made. She recalls as a child working two jobs and sewing and crocheting quilt squares during WWII to be donated to the military to made into quilts that would keep the soldier’s warm. She would speak about her brothers, especially the youngest one, Arthur, who she cared for. Mary attended Catholic school and learned English, French being the language spoken most exclusively. During those school age years Mary recalled many times having a problem with a nun who would switch her for speaking languages other than English. And while Mary had a poor relationship with her stepfather, Adelard Chaisson, she also recalled that after returning home one day with welts from a beating that her stepfather went back up to the school and threatened the nun, thereby halting the abuse. She spoke with so much pride for her family growing up. About how her step father worked 3 or 4 jobs and all the children contributed to the house. It was certainly hard times in Mary’s childhood. But it prepared her to be a strong woman.

In her young adult life there is a gap of time where there is no evidence of what Mary did in these years aside from knowing that at some point Mary Ann moved to Macon, Georgia and got married. Shortly after she discovered the marriage to be unhappy and divorced. But heartbreak hardly slowed her down. Mary moved forward in her life to become a certified RN, and at some point during this time as a nurse she was set up on a blind date with Alatia Carroll McLeod, a military man. In short, they fell in love. July 9th 1954 they were happily married. Mary was 21 at the time. In their life together Mary and Alatia would have eight children. Six were sons and two were daughters. The first two were born during the couple’s time in Macon, Georgia. Debra first and Robert second. Alatia was relocated and the young family moved to South Carolina. This was the time just before the Vietnam war and Mary’s husband was trained as a combat medic. In South Carolina they had another son, Patrick. And after the family was off to Germany, the family’s first out of country relocation. Here they family grew to 7 with the birth of their fifth child, Richard. Returning home they were stationed in Ford Leonardwood, Missouri where they remained through the birth of their second daughter Mary Ann, and their 4th son, Paul. With a family of 8 to support Mary Ann was a full-time housewife. And with the start of the Vietnam war, a full-time army wife completely independent while her husband was deployed to Vietnam. The family moved to Georgia again during Alatia’s time overseas. And it was here, by herself, that Mary Ann cared for her family of 6 children while pregnant with the 7th. When it was time to give birth she attempted even to drive herself to the hospital for the delivery and unfortunately wrecked the family’s car. She nor the baby were harmed though and she was taken to the hospital to give birth to Daniel. This story truly goes to show the strong mind she possessed and the independent nature of Mary. Her house was full of children without help and somehow this amazing woman managed. Newborn, toddlers, troublemakers and all. She was a traditionalist, and made a sit-down dinner every night for the family. Times were tough with so many mouths to feed however, and normally consisted of rice and beans. But she did the best she could. She would sing French songs at the sink while doing the dishes. She would scold the children in Cherokee when she was angry. Or so she claimed knowledge of the language anyway. Mary had a strong tie between her Native American spirit and her Catholic faith. While the two might at first seem contradictory, they meshed together to Mary.

Three times her husband deployed to Vietnam as a combat medic, rescuing wounding from the battlefield. Then he would return home, the family would move, and he would be off again to the war. As anyone might imagine this was a large stress on the family. During Alatia’s first deployment in fact, history would repeat itself when authorities took Mary’s children away and put them into foster care. It was what had been similarly done to Mary and her brothers, and exactly as had been done to Alatia and his siblings in their youth. Each of them were able to be returned to their parents eventually. And fortunately for the McLeod family the story was the same. When Alatia returned home between deployments the couple were able to reclaim their 7 children. This was followed by another move, this time to Fort Sam in Texas and thereafter Alatia was off the war again. The children grew. They learned and Mary guided them. When their next relocation to Roswell, New Mexico occurred they would have one last addition to the family. John.

Despite difficulties in her marriage do to the trauma of war that Alatia brought home, and the financial struggles Mary always did what she had to do for her children. Her family. One story uncovered recently revealed that once while Alatia was on deployment Mary even faced off a home intruder to defend her family. When the burglar broke into their house she shot him in the leg and sent the dog after him. Defended herself, her home and her kids without question, without doubt, without hesitation. That was the kind of person she was. A decisive person. A hardy and even stubborn woman. But so full of kindness and compassion. Love.

Eventually Marry would find herself in San Antonio, TX. Her golden years in the care of her oldest son and his family. After a long and hard and beautiful life Mary had found herself well at the end of her life. She surrounded herself with items that reminded her of family and faith. And spent her time doing everything that she enjoyed. The day started with coffee and books. And boy did Mary love to read! She would go through stacks of books every week. Speed reading through book after book at such a rate that had she bought them rather than rented them she would easily have her own wall to wall to wall library. And probably still had stacks of them on the floor! Mary loved reading and writing and storytelling. And like every good story teller she was prone to… exaggerations. However when it came to her claims to read 20 books in a week… I wouldn’t have doubted it. She had so much to teach us truly. And so much to tell.

As her health began to decline Mary lost a great deal of mobility and needed a cane to walk and a shower bench. Help with some everyday tasks. But Mary didn’t seem to be affected by loosing her mobility. Just the opposite, it seemed that Mary embraced age. Just as she embraced every other season of her life. And with that embracing came happiness I think. She continued in her age to do what she’d done even as a child. Giving. Crocheting items to give to family members as she had once done for the soldiers in the war. Crocheting so much in fact that she ran out of people to give them too. So she gave them away. To anyone. To everyone. Because she was a giver. Mary had a strong relationship with God. A private relationship, but a strong one. And every night she prayed for her family. She prayed for our health and she prayed for our happiness, but most of all she prayed for us to come together. It was her deepest wish that her sons and daughters and their sons and daughters would love each other. And by love I don’t think that she meant that she expected everyone to stop fighting and fix what was done. What was done is long past. Love is to let go. Love is to start again. Love is to forgive. Love is what she gave. And love is all she asked for. So thank you for that Mary. Thank you for the love you gave. And the love you taught to those around you.