In Tribute

Gary Ellen Tyler Camp Svalberg, July 4, 1928 - Jan. 6, 2010

How do you sum up the woman who was the focal point of your family for all of your almost-63 years?

While my mother could be very gracious, very charming -- and very funny -- basically she was not an easy, comfortable personality. She was quite judgmental, and could be harsh in her judgments. She set extremely high standards for herself, and for others, especially her children; her expectations of perfection proved a true burden for all of us.

But she was someone you absolutely could rely on -- if you needed help you got it, without hesitation, without her considering how it might inconvenience her, how much it might cost her. And this was not just her children: many others can attest to her help in times of trouble. She was the soul of generosity. And she had great courage, great determination. Whatever had to be done was done, and she did not complain.

One of the most dramatic examples of my mother's courage and unflappability in times of crisis (a talent I fear she did not bequeath to her firstborn, since I all too easily fall apart) occurred years ago when someone broke into her apartment one night, while my brother Steven was staying with her, sleeping on the couch. The would-be burglar came in through a window right by Steven's head, waking him. They proceeded to have a stage-whispered conversation in which the guy -- who had a knife -- kept telling Steven to cover his head with his pillow, while Steven kept saying no, I'll do anything else you want, but not that, feeling sure the guy would then stab him. My mother, hearing voices in the living room, came out to investigate, though Steven called out to her to stay in her room. When she realized what was happening she very calmly started talking to the home-invader. She talked to him very politely as if he were a visitor. Said she was sure he didn't want to hurt anyone, and she saw no reason why he shouldn't be able to walk out the door, with no one the worse off. Pointed out to him that they had not turned on the lights, could not identify him. And after about five minutes of her calm, polite -- not pleading, not frightened-sounding -- conversation, the young man left, by way of the front door.

And as an example of her unflagging mind-over-matter determination: when she was visiting me a few years ago, in an effort to keep her from being bored (my mother was one of those people who does not know how to relax; she always had to be doing something constructive), I suggested she paint the blank front covers of some photo albums I had. Mother was always very artistic -- created many a beautiful wreath, centerpiece, and flower arrange-ment in her life -- and in her 50s took up painting seriously, producing several professional-quality paintings before the tremor that developed later made it too difficult for her. Now she insisted that her hands shook too much for her to be able to paint anything.

"Do an abstract," I said. "Just swirl some colors on there so it won't be so blah." Instead, she sat down and painstakingly produced two intricately executed paintings of flowers, and one of butterflies. This was a woman who was not going to let a damn tremor keep her from doing a job "right." She was a woman it was impossible not to respect, to admire, even if one often found her infuriating.

Gary Ellen (which we all sometimes called her, along with Mother, Mom, and mamacita; my youngest sister would call her Gare)...Gary Ellen Svalberg, your firstborn, born to you when you were but 18 1/2 years old, for whom you did so much throughout the course of her life...this daughter whom you never quite understood (having been a drum majorette and football queen when she was in high school, she was very disappointed when I dropped out of my high school pep squad after only a week because I knew I hated football, and thought the whole pep squad business was stupid; likewise, she couldn't understand why I wouldn't let her buy me a white sweater and orange skirt to wear to the football games when I was at the University of Texas -- "Mother," I said, "I will never, never, go to a U.T. football game.")...this daughter, Gary Ellen, salutes you.