R.I.P. Joan O'Keeffe Harding

My mother-in-law Joan O’Keeffe Harding passed away a month short of her 90^th birthday, on Sept. 13, 2020. It was a Sunday, her favorite day of the week. Joan was an extraordinary woman who had a larger-than-life impact on me. She welcomed me into the family as one of her own children and went out of her way to make me feel a part of it, one of the great gifts of my life.

Faith and family were the unshakable cornerstones of Joan’s life. Her creed was, have faith, be good, and be confident, and that trinity of interrelated attributes defined and directed her. 

While church was where she participated in public worship, she demonstrated Christian values every day. She was enormously kind. She never in my presence spoke ill of anyone. She found the positives of everyone and every situation. She was generous and welcoming and genuinely grateful of her many blessings. Despite her many talents – she was a star athlete, learned grammarian, master diplomat, skilled administrator – she never spoke about them. 

Her demeanor was of unquenchable joy. Rarely did I ever see her not smiling and I challenge anyone to find a photo of her without her trademark smile and in her eye that spark of mischievousness. I think of her in a pool on Kent Island, Maryland with a cluster of children (she so adored being around children) and holding an oversized water gun, sneaking up on an unsuspecting soul to unload on him. Or of holding high a drink at one of her and her husband Lou’s legendary St. Patrick’s Day or Christmas parties.

Joan was the yin to grade-schoolmate-turned-husband Lou’s yang. Where he was quiet, reserved, and imposing (and greatly intimidating to a young suitor of his eldest daughter), Joan was gregarious and outgoing. She didn’t need to kiss the Blarney Stone to be endowed with the gift of gab (though she did). Church, besides being the place for her to worship, also afforded Joan the opportunity to socialize and be seen. She could and would strike up conversations – long conversations – with friends and strangers alike, and especially after church, even when Lou was well ready to be on the way home. She was in her element when there were people to talk with.

She insisted on looking her best at all times. Her hair was always perfectly coiffed (yes, even in the pool); her makeup, including her trademark pink lipstick, always perfect; her clothes always exquisite. She also had an interior decorator’s eye. Every room in their houses in New Jersey were beautifully furnished, yet comfortable and functional. She just had that touch.

While she always put her best foot forward, she relegated her own concerns to after those of her family. She was the diplomat who resolved familial disputes, formed wise insights into her kids and their needs, and was a fierce advocate for them.

When her children were young, she would be up early to cook each of the seven kids the breakfast he or she wanted – bacon and eggs for some, but crispier bacon for one and less so for another, oatmeal for that one, and so on, while making seven custom lunches for school (often with napkin notes of endearment or encouragement), making sure homework was ready, checking that clothes were right, ensuring they were on their way on time, and in the middle of it all, dropping everything to run upstairs and lay out Lou’s clothes for the day. There was usually a freshly baked treat to greet the kids when they returned home from school.

Years later, several of the kids would learn of how Joan had intervened, quietly and behind the scenes, on their behalf, if they were having some trouble big or small. And she would dispense sage advice when asked, whether about caring for a sick child or a troubled relationship or any of a thousand other things.

“Homemaker” is the antiquated, nowadays pejorative name for Joan’s occupation. She worked tirelessly to manage the house and care for seven children. She never rested. Between cooking, cleaning, sewing and laundry, she kept busy with hobbies that included training champion Shetland Sheepdogs, playing tennis, and writing the annual Christmas party poem that featured a stanza about every member of the extended family that eventually numbered over a hundred. When the family would go to the beach for the summer, her chores would carry over to the beach house. And on Saturday mornings there, she and Lou would gather the cleaning supplies and clean their nearby rental property for the next incoming guests instead of paying a cleaning service.

How did she do it all? Her faith, goodness and confidence carried her tremendously. Yet perhaps even more important was her relationship with her beloved husband. They were true partners, she would say, making every decision in life together. Their devotion and loyalty to one another were inspiring, and, like so many other aspects of her life, a model that I have tried to emulate.

Rest in peace, Joan!