An unforgettable sense of humor

Deepa Bharath

Most people who knew Margie May Robinson remember her delicious sense

of humor.

Margie was a staunch Catholic and went to St. Joachim’s every

Sunday without fail. She was part of the church’s women’s group,

Catholic sisters, for years.

But she never missed out on an opportunity to play a prank on a

dear friend -- even the church pastor who golfed with her husband.

Every time, the pastor would change into his golf shoes and leave

his work shoes home. And every time, Margie would sneak in and tie

his shoelaces together. She even changed his laces and put green ones

on St. Patrick’s Day.

The pastor never said a word. He simply smiled, undid the laces

and put his shoes back on.

Margie was a supportive mother and a doting grandmother. She

always encouraged her children to be creative. She had an appetite

for knowledge, which didn’t decline with age.

Margie learned to operate computers at age 75. Not only did she

learn to work on a computer, but she even transferred all of the

church’s financial records from the books to the computer.

Margie took Spanish classes in Orange Coast College when she was

88 because she wanted to interact more with her Latino neighbors.

Born in Dunfries, Scotland, Margie moved to Costa Mesa from the

Midwest in 1946 -- right after World War II. She loved the little

town from the beginning. She knew all the movers and shakers and was

always eager to share juicy gossip and news hot off the presses.

Margie was one of the founding members of St. Joachim’s Roman

Catholic Church. She also worked at Mesa Consolidated Water District

as an office manager for about 18 years. She retired in 1976.

Most of her time after that was devoted to her family. She went to

her grandson’s basketball games and baked cookies with her

granddaughter. Margie didn’t know basketball from volleyball. But she

got up on her feet and said a few words to the referee every time he

decided in the opposition’s favor.

No one could resist a smile when Margie swore. She had a penchant

for what her daughter-in-law, Mary Robinson, calls “light swearing.”

Margie would use it delectably, in the most appropriate and funny

way.

Margie taught her granddaughter to bake cookies at a time when the

little girl’s mother was trying to cut down her children’s sugar

supply. So, Margie, using her I’m-the- grandma-so-I-can-get-away-

with-this license, coaxed her granddaughter into eating chocolate

chip cookies explaining to the little girl that those yummy brown

chips were OK, because they’re “a new kind of raisins.”

On their 50th wedding anniversary bash, Margie talked her husband

into showing up in 1800s costumes. She wore a long, flowing dress

with a hat and her husband wore a tuxedo with a high hat.

Margie was a good friend. She went on many camps with friends. She

took the lead when it came to singing around the campfire, roasting

marshmallows or telling stories around the fire. One autumn night,

when they were singing around a fire, everyone heard a rustle in the

leaves and looked at each other.

Margie brushed aside their concerns with a wave of her hand with:

“It’s probably just a bear.”

Even at age 90, when she passed away a month after being diagnosed

with cancer, Margie lived by herself. She drove, shopped and was

sharp and active. She always lived life to the fullest.

Her two sons slept on either side of her during the last days. The

night before her passing, her two cats, Faro and Cleo, came into the

room and slept by her bed.

She died at 7:30 the morning of May 1, five days after her 90th

birthday.

But Margie leaves her loved ones with many good memories and even

more good laughs.