Death is a part of life, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it.
I’ve contemplated death a lot the past week with the recent loss of two precious friends — Margaret Shields, 96, and Bill Schulte, 62.
For years when I visited the Twin Cities, I’d drive past the Lewis County Historical Museum and swing in whenever I saw Margaret’s car in the parking lot. I admired this woman who devoted nearly four decades to preserving the history of Lewis County, a volunteer of unmatched dedication who began serving at the museum in 1977.
She and Margaret Langus, the two Margarets as we referred to them at The Chronicle, diligently clipped newspaper articles and obituaries and filed them in metal cabinets. Whenever people walked into the museum’s library, now known as the Margaret Shields Research Room, they simply had to offer a name or a place and Margaret put her hands on books, files, and other resources to answer their questions. She knew local history better than anyone I’ve met. She was remarkable.
I grew closer to Margaret when we honored local Rosie the Riveters and the guys who worked on the homefront during World War II. I interviewed both Margarets — Shields served as a Boeing Co. mechanic and Langus worked as a nurse. They were fast friends, but quite different in personality and disposition. They worked together more than two decades. Langus died in 2015.
Whenever I conducted research for history books, I set up my computer and scanner directly across from Margaret and we chatted as I conducted research and digitized photos. Margaret, a native of the Forest area, shared her family’s history, which included a Massachusetts witch trial, all preserved in a personal history book called “The Little Shavers.” She talked about the love of her life, Harry Shields, a longtime barber who died 2009. She was so proud of her daughter, Sue Whorton, and son-in-law Dean. We even spoke of the baby girl she lost in 1954, Cynthia Louise.
Nowadays many newspaper articles can be found in digital archives, but I’ve discovered a gap in local history records preserved publicly only at the museum. Articles from the late 1800s through 1977 or so can be found at newspaperarchive.com (available through Timberland Regional Library) or newspapers.com. From mid-2002 onward, The Chronicle has a searchable database of newspaper articles. But to find out what happened in the 1980s and 1990s, I’ve had to search through paper copies of newspaper clippings preserved in manila folders tucked inside metal file cabinets at the museum. Thanks to the Margarets, we can find those articles and research that history.
But Margaret stands out to me also as a gracious woman, somebody who always dressed nice with well-done nails and makeup. I’m somewhat of a WYSIWYG — what you see is what you get — so I admired the time and care Margaret took with her appearance. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. I was honored more recently to drive her to doctor’s appointments and visit with her at Oakwood Haven home in Centralia, where she died July 22. I considered her a mentor and a precious friend.
I didn’t know Bill as well, but I appreciated his public service as a Coast Guard commander and a Lewis County commissioner. I always enjoyed our conversations. He gave me a tour of devastated areas of Dryad and Doty after the 2007 flood. We spoke quite a bit last spring at the funeral of our mutual friend from Winlock, Marvin B. “Cy” Meyers, a World War II Marine and staunch Republican who died March 3. I loved seeing Bill’s wife, Susi, and his children and grandchildren at local parades, senior center breakfasts, and other gatherings. I’ve been praying for them as they cope with his loss after a three-year battle with cancer.
As I’ve pondered these losses, I kept thinking how easy it is to dwell on past hurts and mistakes, and how often I find myself worrying over the future and what might happen tomorrow, next month, next year, a decade or two from now. Neither of those attitudes is biblical (Isaiah 43:18 and Matthew 6:34).
Instead, this past week, I’ve looked at the time I spent with Margaret, and Bill, and Cy, my parents, and others in my life who have died. That’s what matters. Not the past. Not the future. Today, and the relationships we build each and every day with those around us.
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Julie McDonald, a personal historian from Toledo, may be reached at memoirs@chaptersoflife.com.
