Mad Mary of Bath

The Roman Baths in Bath, England. 

In 2017, I attended my friends’ wedding in the beautiful English countryside near Bath. After the wedding, I spent several days in that lovely city learning about its ancient Roman history and touring its grand architecture and gardens. But, soon it was time to catch the bus for a short journey to my next destination. The bus station was bustling with people when I arrived. I found the bus schedule and located an empty seat on a three-person bench close to the terminal where I would catch my bus. I sat down on one end of the bench next to two young women. We offered up greetings to each other, then each returned to our own thoughts and tasks at hand. I am not antisocial, but I tend to keep to myself in new situations and am more of an observer than a talker.

A few minutes later the young woman sitting next to me left to catch her bus, leaving that seat empty. That was when I saw her. I guessed her age to be late 60’s or early 70’s and she walked with an awkward shuffle, shifting her ample weight from one foot to the other with each step. She was wearing burgundy sweat pants tucked into rain boots, a black sweatshirt, and a wool jacket in a red, yellow, and black Aztec print. A blue cameo pin rested on her lapel and her gray hair was peeking out from a green stocking cap. She looked my way. I immediately thought to myself, “Don’t sit by me! Don’t sit by me! Don’t sit by me!” I said it over and over in my head, but the gray-haired woman ambled over to the bench and quite literally plopped down next to me. I was relieved when she started a conversation with the young woman sitting on the other end of the bench. I felt myself relax a bit.

I watched as people passed by and called out greetings to the eclectically dressed woman next to me. It was obvious that she was a local and was well known. Business men in suits waved and said hello. Women corralling their children through the crowds called her by name. Her name was Mary. I was quite curious now and much more at ease. She was definitely considered part of the normal happenings at the Bath bus station.

Then the captive audience on the other end of the bench made her escape and boarded a bus. I was left alone with this very unusual woman. As if on cue, another woman walked over and struck up a conversation with Mary. She was quite thin and tall. Her attire was also quite eccentric. She wore a dark green canvas coat that hung heavy off her shoulders. It was several sizes too large. The hem of a purple dress hung out from under the bottom of the coat. It was a stark contradiction. It was an evening dress with sequins and sheer layers of fabric. It hung several inches below the woman’s knees, but wasn’t long enough to cover the patchy splotches of red skin on her legs. She wore heavy lace-up shoes and her appearance was haggard. 

I felt a bit guilty as I eavesdropped on their conversation. The thin woman was named Jean and she had lost a family member named Peter. She told Mary that she had taken Peter’s ashes to the sea to spread them back into the natural world. She took them on his birthday, and as she started to scatter the ashes, a group of turtles gathered around the boat. Mary questioned, “Turtles?” The woman replied, “Yes, turtles!” Jean continued her story by saying that the driver of the boat had never seen turtles in that location and that they were rare. Mary questioned again, “Turtles?” and the woman again replied, “Yes, turtles!” She continued, explaining that Peter loved turtles. Mary was getting more excited as the story progressed and she would repeat the woman’s words back to her over and over again. Restating that the turtles were rare and not common in that area, then questioning again that Peter loved turtles.

Then Mary spoke boldly to Jean, stating, “We are all connected in life and nature. The turtles were there to greet him.” Her voice became even more excited as her conversation with Jean transitioned into talking about her loved one who had died. They discussed his struggles in life and how Jean should work her way through her grief. At the height of the conversation, Mary said, “We can fly on the wings of doves, on chariots of fire. Our reach is longer than our grasp. We are very important, dear. All of us. We must blow our own trumpet, dear. And we must not judge the book by its cover.”

Her last sentence hit me hard. “We must not judge the book by its cover.” That was exactly what I had done when Mary shuffled over and sat next to me on the bench. Immediately, I made a conscious decision to set my judgments about Mary aside and be open to having a conversation. Right after I had that thought, Jean said her goodbyes and walked away, leaving the bus station.

That was when Mary turned toward me and greeted me with a hearty, “Hello!” It was then that I noticed her harsh eye makeup and rouge. It looked to be a day or two old. It was faded, but still indicated the heavy hand that had applied it to her skin. Blue eyeshadow, darkly drawn brows, and brightly colored cheeks……it looked almost clown-like. Then I saw a cluster of dark green, shiny leaves pinned to the front of her sweatshirt. Mary was definitely an interesting woman.

I returned her greeting and she pulled away from me slightly, turning her head to get a better look at me. She introduced herself as Mary. Then she added, “Actually, I am Mad Mary. That is what I call myself. It makes people wonder about me.” She let out a hearty laugh. I laughed with her and she became emboldened. Mad Mary continued, “It’s the truth!” She leaned forward, her eyes wide, and in a deep, rather sinister voice, said, “I am Mad Mary! You don’t know what I’ll do!” Then she laughed again, turning back toward me. “Of course, I am not mad. It’s just fun to make people think I am.”  I liked her more with every word she spoke!

Mad Mary told me about her son, who lived with her. He had fallen on difficult times and was currently struggling to find work. She said that she loved him and that he was a good person. He helped her around the house with chores and handy man things that she couldn’t do.

She then pulled a wad of British notes out of her pocket and held them up in front of her. She said that God was with her that day…..that He would provide for her. Mad Mary told me she was taking 20 pounds to the store and she had faith that she would bring back 40 pounds of groceries because God would take care of her. She trusted him and he provided for her every week. Every time she went to the market, He turned 20 pounds into 40 pounds of groceries.

There was a lull in our conversation when she leaned around again to look at me. With a serious tone she asked an interesting question, “There is someone in your family that is a preacher or tied to the church, isn’t there?” I felt a tingle run up my spine. Why did she think that? How did she know? I responded, “Yes, my grandfather was a preacher.” Mad Mary grew excited again. “I knew it! You have an energy about you. I knew you were a spiritual person. I knew you were from a family of spiritual people.” Again, I felt a little off kilter from her intuitive statement, but I told her about my maternal grandparents, Bob and Verna Sharp. I explained how they helped establish the foundation of my spiritual beliefs and how they set such a powerful example of living from a place of love.

At the next lull in the conversation, I asked Mad Mary about the leaves pinned to the front of her sweatshirt. She explained that she wore them to have nature with her at all times. The glossy green leaves were her reminder to look for Him in nature….to spend time in nature….and to stay connected to God through nature. “You don’t have to find Him in a church, you can find Him in nature.” I told her I agreed….that I was a nature lover also and that I felt the closest to God when I was outside in the natural elements.

Then she asked me another surprising question. Mad Mary asked, “You are an artist, aren’t you?” Again, I felt a shiver as I thought to myself, “How did she know that?” I replied, “Yes, I am an artist.” She exclaimed, “I knew you were an artist. You have the energy of an artist.” Mad Mary continued her questioning. “Do you paint or draw?” “No,” I replied. “I am a gourd artist and photographer.” She was unfamiliar with gourd art, so I showed her my Gratitude Gourds Facebook page. She oohed and awed over the photos and I explained how I dry the gourds and drawn the designed on by hand before burning the pattern into the shell of the gourd. Then Mad Mary asked if I would like to see her sketches. I quickly replied that I would love to see them. She dug through one of her bags and pulled out a sketch book. She flipped it open to a page covered with a beautiful pencil sketch of fish and seashells. Now it was my turn to ooh and awe! The next page featured flowers. Mad Mary proudly showed me page after page of lovely sketches of nature. She seemed appreciative of having an audience with which to share her talent. We discussed the challenges and rewards of creating art.

As the departure time for my bus crept closer, I started to gather up my belongings. I looked over at Mary and asked her if I could take a picture with her. She threw her thick hands up in the air and exclaimed, “You want to take a picture of me?” I told her that I take pictures of people I meet on my trips and that I would love to have a picture with her. She smoothed her stocking hat and straightened her jacket as I leaned closer and held my cell phone out in front of us. I took a couple of photos and then she pointed her index finger up into the air and said, “It’s all about Him….it’s all about God.” I took a few more photos then told her I had enjoyed meeting her and I hoped that everything weighing on her in her life would work out well.

I gathered my backpack and made my way across the station to my departure gate. As I looked back over my shoulder, Mad Mary had left her spot on the bench and was making her way to the exit door of the bus station.

I doubt that Mad Mary thinks about me or our conversation, but I recall it rather often. My encounter with her is one of the most beautiful interactions I have had with another human being. Neither of us had anything to prove. We were just two people sharing a bench and an appreciation for God, nature, art, and the intricacies of life. And, she also made me realize that it is okay if people think you are mad….perhaps it is even more than okay! Perhaps it is brilliant!