The Southwest Voice

larger view larger view larger view larger view

While my family and I celebrated Mother’s Day weekend at the coast, we received a phone call and learned that my wife’s grandmother was in the hospital, following a stroke. On Sunday, we gathered with immediate family members to say farewell to her.
Maxine Stumbaugh was born on Aug. 2, 1922 in Los Angeles and raised in Taft.
She did not know her birth parents, and during her six years in an orphanage, she spent time with various families.
One day, Maxine noticed a visitor who smelled good.
“I hope she takes me home,” she said. The woman’s scent lingered long enough for Maxine to dwell on what life would be like in a real home. Her wish came true when the woman adopted her.
When she was 20, Maxine married Harley Stumbaugh. He had a daughter, Jacquie,  from a previous marriage. Together, they had two sons, Harley Jr. and Loren. Their three children brought them six grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.  Adoption apparently ran in the family, so Maxine “adopted” several of her children’s friends.
Her greatest love, however, was her husband.
And, despite the pressures of marriage, children and work, nothing diminished the romance they kindled until his passing in 1985.     
Maxine and Harley shopped together at the local grocery store, and whenever they heard their song, “Elmer’s Tune,” he would take her hand, and the two would dance the aisle, oblivious to the vegetables and shoppers.
In the years following Harley’s passing, Maxine continued to play their song at home. The familiar melody would make time melt away, and then Maxine would dance around her living room, feeling Harley’s arms surrounding her.
Maxine lived a “maximum” life.
In her last four years, she got a computer and used e-mail to stay in touch with her friends. On occasion, she sent letters through the mail. The letters were typed as opposed to hand-written, demonstrating her characteristic blend of the sentimental and the practical.  
Two nights before her passing, Maxine explained, “We’ve got a problem.” She was dining with her son, Loren, and she was out of tequila. Strong gestures and calm confidence were her trademarks. While her empty, waving glass said, “I want tequila,” her lowered eyeglasses and gaze said, “I need tequila.” No one questioned her.  
The next afternoon, Maxine lay down on her couch for a nap and woke up in heaven, just in time for a Mother’s Day dance with her beloved Harley.
There are no tears in heaven, only joy. Though we miss Maxine, we know that she is happy and “bright shining as the sun.”
At her graveside service, some family members wore blue or floral colors, suggesting the Resurrection hope that anchored Maxine’s life. Local singer Raymond McDonald sang “Old Rugged Cross:”
So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it some day for a crown.
In a modern fable, a boy sells all he has and prepares to cross the Sahara Desert in search of buried treasure beneath the pyramids.
A camel driver knows the boy may face death along the way. He tells the boy, “Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living right now.”
Though Maxine passed through the “valley of the shadow of death,” she came out the other side more alive. She recently wrote, ‘When the time comes and I am gone, try not to sorrow … life is too short for all of us, and you need to get on with tomorrow. For those I have loved and now must leave behind and to my friends I beg you to reach out and touch the one you love in a special way.  As you know we never know for certain how much time we have to share, so reach out to those around you and let them know how much care. Although I won’t be there to hold and comfort you, I will be watching over you and praying that the Lord above will embrace you all with his endless love.’ - Mom
In life’s wearisome desert, clouds of memory guide us into the night, where the memory of loved ones burns like a flame. At times, we reach an oasis where we revive our souls with new friends. At other times, we only see a mirage, a simple reminder that the real treasures lie beneath the pyramids of the heart. Maxine’s friendship made the journey meaningful for others because she shared of herself.  
Family and friends created an oasis of fellowship and comfort when they celebrated her life through music. Loren Stumbaugh and Harley Stumbaugh II, Harley III of Aspen, Colo., Taylor Stumbaugh of Oceanside, Calif., and Cherice Stumbaugh’s husband Kevin Shah joined on stage with members of Big House to put together a tribute concert at Fishlips.
Big House includes some of Maxine’s “adopted” sons. Another local musician, Raymond McDonald, also sung.  
They played with their whole hearts, trusting that Maxine was watching over the stage.