mariluna.musings

From the Feather River to Wels: 88 Cards for Margery

I recently hosted a card-writing social during a Sprachcafe, and the energy in the room was nostalgic. Together, we crafted 88 handmade Valentine’s cards for the residents of a local retirement home here in Wels Austria.

As I watched the glue and ink fly, my mind kept drifting back to a dusty corner of Yuba City, California, and a girl named Margery.

The Girl Who Brought the World to the Farm

Growing up near the Feather River, my world was small. We were a farm-working family; summers meant six-day work weeks that started at daybreak and ended only when the sun became too punishing to bear. We didn’t have internet or cable TV, and we never left the farm during those long, hot months. Books were my escape, but Margery was my window.

Every summer, Marg and her family would pack their RV and disappear to places that sounded as exotic to me as the Nordic seas. But she never left me behind. A faithful friend and prolific writer, she wrote me letters and post cards from every destination.

I received more postage from her than from everyone else combined. When she traveled abroad it felt like I was with her. Her letters were the first glimmers I had of a world larger than the fields. She was the first person that believed in me fully. The kind of person everyone deserves in their corner.

A New Life in Austria

Margery has been gone for six and a half years now. Sometimes, I still find myself checking the mail, half-believing she’s actually off on a top-secret mission, too classified to call home.

I often wonder what she’d think of my life now—living in Austria with Herbert, armed with an Electrical Engineering degree and fluent in German. She got a glimpse of it, though. In 2017, she visited me during my first extended stay. We ate our weight in Schnitzel, drank beer, and took in the view from the Prater Ferris wheel. She was never afraid to take the chance to see more of the world and for this I am eternally grateful.

88 Reasons to Write

It is a huge comfort to me how she showed me that a simple piece of mail can bridge the gap between isolation and belonging. That is why we sat around the table last week. For the care home residents in Wels, a handmade card is more than just paper; it’s a reminder that they aren’t forgotten, much like Margery’s letters reminded a farm girl in Yuba City that there was a whole world waiting for her.

I miss Marge every day. I hope the residents in Wels felt even a fraction of the love she used to send my way.