Mary Klaasen, whom I knew for over 40 years, was one of the most important people in my life. She was my first mentor during seven of the 12 years I lived in New Orleans. In fact, many years later, on Mother’s Day, my pastor encouraged us to acknowledge a woman outside of our families who had a significant influence on our lives. It took me less than a minute to think of Mary and then to send her my love and gratitude in a letter.
Here are some memories:
I first met Mary when I interviewed her for a sociology class. I think the assignment was to interview a career woman. At the time, 1976, I didn’t know any women outside of a few female professors who had careers. A mutual friend connected me with Mary because she managed and was part owner of the Logos Bookstore in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
During the interview, Mary and I sat in her kitchen. I was nervous but within minutes Mary was co-leading the conversation. She was solid and grounded, yet she had high energy. I can only remember a few conversations in my life where I felt “high” afterwards, and this was one of them.
Mary was thirteen years older than I was. To a student like myself, she was a model adult. She and Tom owned a beautiful home in New Orleans. They had been married for a few years before I met them and they chose not to have children. Meeting them introduced a new life option for me—marriage without children.
Over time I learned that Mary had many chosen children and I became one of them. Most of us were not quite adults. We were learning to file taxes, make doctor appointments, and prepare resumes. (I even learned how to “make” Minute Rice.) Our apartments reflected our student status. The tables in our apartments were made from wooden planks balanced on sawhorses, crates, or cement blocks. Ultimately Mary, and only Mary (somewhat impatiently), taught me the basics of adulthood.
Mary frequently listened to me talk about my family and occasionally gave me advice. She met most of my family (and vice versa) during their trips to New Orleans, so her advice was good. She had an interest in psychology and she introduced me, an INFJ, to the Myers-Briggs test. If Mary were to take the Enneagram test, I believe she would be a 3—an efficient achiever who sets goals. She usually was accomplishing two tasks at once. Mary required a lot from her employees, including me. I worked part-time at their bookstore during my senior year and full-time for a year after that. I helped Tom, who taught me bookkeeping, to do the books for the store. I think that after I left Logos, I could have managed my own small business with what I learned from them.
This Logos Bookstore, which was one of a chain of evangelical Christian bookstores, was unlike any of the others. It was located in the French Quarter of New Orleans, and its stock reflected its site. Cookbooks featuring New Orleans recipes were up front near the register, and the Bibles were shelved way in the back. Children’s books, which I helped to choose and order, and which explain my lifelong love of picture books, were located on the mezzanine. The store’s specifically Christian books included a whole bookcase of Catholic mystics and theologians because New Orleans is a Catholic city and nuns and priests were among our patrons. Therefore, I learned about Thomas Merton, Thomas Keating, and Matthew Fox in 1976, many years before I was re-exposed to these authors when I was on the board of City Quest, an organization that sponsored group meditation comprising people of different faith traditions.
Anyway, the point is that Mary was not a typical evangelical Christian. She taught me critical thinking as it applied to theology and religion. She was very clear about her disdain for fundamentalist books, though we did carry books that conservative Christians would request. One such book was The Total Woman. The entire staff cracked up at the author’s suggestion for a wife to greet her husband at the door while wearing only cling wrap.
Our circle of Logos staff and friends spent many years gathering in Mary and Tom’s home. Holidays. Sing-alongs. Book clubs. I remember discussing Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, an unusual book to carry at a Logos Bookstore, which also carried Abbie Hoffman’s Steal This Book.
By that time, I was married and was renting a shotgun apartment from Mary and Tom, who were active landlords. Mary’s cousin Beverley lived in the other half of the shotgun and joined me on our shared porch for wine in the evenings. My home was no longer furnished with sawhorses and cement blocks. Now I owned adult furniture, and of course china, silver, and crystal from my wedding.
Eventually I moved to Chicago, and Mary and Tom moved to Dallas. Mary developed a consultancy practice for small businesses including those in the Logos Bookstore chain. One of those stores was in Chicago. Dale, the manager, attended LaSalle Street Church, an unusual social-justice oriented evangelical church that includes members with a wide range of theological backgrounds. Thus, through her friendship with Dale, Mary learned of and recommended the spiritual community that is a large part of my lifeblood today.
Mary was a woman of great confidence, wisdom, and generosity. I will miss her for the rest of my life. Rest in Power, Mary. I love you.
—Sue Schaeffer