Since Marge has had such a special place in our hearts for all of the things she has said and done, it is only fitting that we share some of them in a few Moments of Remembrance:

I'll never forget the moments in which I would share the news of some recent scientific discovery with Mom always to hear her say,
That's amazing! You are so lucky to be able learn all these new things. One of the worst things about getting old is missing all the wonderful discoveries yet to come. Think of all the things that you will know that I will never know.
It was this same sense of wonder about the amazing universe around us that would always lead her back to Villanova University to take yet another course in Astronomy. How wonderful to be able to delight in creation that way and what a clever way of making your child see the greatness there is in knowing something! -- Tom

Unlike most of the teachers and coaches of her day who tended to personally dominate classroom and game time discourse, Mom insisted on pointing out the problems her student athletes needed to solve to succeed and then proceeded to help them arrive at their own solutions to those problems. In this sense, her classes tended to be student centered rather than instructor centered and her practices player centered rather than coach centered. In fact, to ensure player ownership of teamwork, Mom would refuse to call out to players from the sidelines during the games, preferring instead to call them over to the sidelines when they appeared to need help. Then she would just help them see the problem. What Mom had discovered quite on her own was Problem Based Instruction, an innovation that would come to the rest of the modern pedagogical world much later. Her remarkable ability to innovate like this was one of the attributes that I most admired in her, especially since it led to thirteen years of undefeated seasons! -- Tom

One time during my early teenage years I stumbled across the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley. I was so taken with it that I committed it to memory so I would be able to recite it as needed. That afternoon I found myself in Mom’s company while surveying the side yard for possible yard work and I decided to see how she liked it. I recited each of its four stanzas including the last one which read:

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

What do you think of it? – I asked in eager anticipation.

She turned toward me and with that gentle and loving smile of a parent who knows how much this poem means to her son simply said:

I think it is the perfect poem for the strong, wonderful young man you have become.

I had hoped for some assessment of the poem’s ultimate truth and I was somewhat disappointed by her response. She was right, of course. Meaning, even poetic meaning, is a matter of historical, cultural, developmental, linguistic and individual perspective actively created by the reader. It changes with experience. But instead of thoroughly extinguishing my enthusiasm with lengthy philosophical discourse, Mom had simply chosen to identify my perspective for me and to embrace it and the person I was becoming with praise and admiration. It was to this kind of affirmational guidance that all of her students responded with incredible loyalty and love. It was quite possibly her greatest gift. -- Tom

Although Mom and Dad enjoyed a wonderful life together, they differed somewhat in their reverence for God. While Mom thought that God's love should permeate all aspects of the Christian life, Dad reserved his Christian side only for life's more significant events requiring courage and strength. As a result, Dad could be heard issuing angry epithets involving God's name over the most minor of life's frustrations despite his faith. One day, Mom who had noticed a steady rise in the incidence of this behavior told him that whenever he took the Lord's name in vain she was going to shout out Alleluia, Praise the Lord! to offset the offense. And so it was that whenever Dad cursed aloud an Alleluia, Praise the Lord! could be heard shortly thereafter. The phrase was shortened to Alleluia! and over time was used whenever Mom felt that something good was to come of life's disappointments. During her last days with us, I would tell her that Bob and I planned to take her to Valley Forge Park one last time once the weather was warm. Each time, she would raise her right hand and pointing to the sky shout Alleluia!. Her liberation came only days after the last time she ever said it, Alleluia! -- Tom

The evening Mom died I was cleaning up the drive way just as my wife and son pulled in. As they left the car, I noticed that they had both been crying and I approached them wondering what could have happened.
Mom passed away, they said, holding back the tears.
A few minutes later we were in the car speeding toward the Sunrise remeniscense facility that had been her home. The fading light of dusk cast an erie pall over the graying countryside along the way lending the calm of evening to the cars we passed. As we climbed the last hill before Sunrise, a bumper sticker from a nearby car caught my eye. In the waning light of evening, from a momentary glance for a fleeting moment I managed to make out its remarkable message: Love is everything. To this day I believe that these were Mom's last words to me on her way out of town. -- Tom

Marge was a great inspiration to me. She took me under her wing my first year at Radnor as a ninth grader. She followed me through high school and college, through playing U.S. Lacrosse and coaching lacrosse at Lower Merion. She was to me what I always wanted to be to my students. She is the reason I became a teacher. She was so instrumental in finding us a location for the Main Line Youth Alliance. The best tribute I can pay to the memory of your mother is by how I have lived and continue to live my life. I have much gratitude for the gift of Marge to my life. -- Janice Pinto, Radnor '66