A Remembrance of Sister Mary Phyllis McCarthy
by her friend, William W. Vosburgh, PhD
As I start my remembrance of Sister Phyllis, I am in mind of a title of one of George Patton's biographers: Before the Colors Fade . This is not to say that memories of her are every likely to fade among those whose lives she touched. Rather, mortality will eventually take its toll among them.
Unusual it is to meet a nun with a mother-in-law. It signaled early tragedy in her life to which her response was to join the Sisters of Social Service and dedicated herself to helping others. Although she never mentioned her marriage, it was clearly the turning point of her life. As a result of her loss, she either acquired or reinforced a profound faith which made her one of the most fearless human beings I have ever known. She would approach anyone with a cheerful smile and accept any physical danger with complete aplomb. This faith was not narrow or doctrinaire and was certainly felt and instinctive rather than carefully formulated. It allowed her to be inclusive and accepting, and was the foundation of her ability to be at ease with others and make them at ease with her. All sunshine adjectives come immediately to mind: bright, warm, radiant, cheerful...as well as thoughtful and caring. I'd like to share a few episodes which I think amplify everything just said.
Although she was licensed by the State of California , I have always maintained that her real license must have been plenary indulgence. When Merle Broberg was dean of the School of SW , he and I had to attend a meeting in Los Angeles . Our last evening in LA was free and we accepted a invitation for a tour of LA from Phyllis. On the agenda were such high spots as Marilyn Monroe's tomb, sentimental visit to UCLA campus (we were both at UCLA at about the same time), cruise down Hollywood Boulevard . It was approaching 2 a.m. she suddenly remembered that she had passed something she wanted to show us and threw the car into a u-turn across all eight + lanes of Wiltshire Boulevard, which could have been expected to have traffic even at that late hour but was mercifully clear, Someone was indeed watching over her.
Milton Spiezman, the historian on our school faculty, had been the director of Phyllis' dissertation and remained a friend. When Milton died, a few years ago, I sent the sad news to Phyllis. The letter I got back, I think, showed her at her finest. It runs something like this: “I knew I could never convert Milton . However, Milton was a just man and right now is experiencing the biggest surprise you could possibly imagine!”
This really sums up her feelings on life, death and eternal life. Phyllis would never have tried to convert anyone who did not seek it of her. Milton 's heritage was Jewish and that she respected. I don't know whether her idea of “a just man” is theologically-rooted or whether it was her way of including worthy people whatever last part is most revealing of the assurance her faith gave her.
I was in New Zealand visiting family when Sister Graham's letter was forwarded to me. The first thing to emerge was the card with Phyllis's picture and dates. I thought it was an announcement of her impending anniversary. How great was the shock to find otherwise. Apparently her transition into the life in which she had such firm faith was easy and she is certainly experiencing no surprise whatever. Her legacy is the many lives she brightened and the example of confident faith she so truly lived.
