Spring 2012 - Clarion University

I first heard of the illustrious “Dr. Mary” my freshman year when friends
reported she stood on a desk the first day of class. When I became a Clarion
Women’s Conference chair, she reigned as Director of Theatre. Thus, I sought
her out to create and perform a piece about Elizabeth Cady Stanton (played by
Elizabeth Threnhauser) and Susan B. Anthony’s stirring friendship. Playing Anthony
inspired Mary’s conversion to feminism. “The spirit of the enormous effort poured
into female suffrage changed my weak attitudes…I came to realize the enormity of
courage and forthrightness the two friends endured to elevate women to the status
of first-class citizen.”
In 1994 Edna R. Brown established a University endowment to honor her dear
friend, Mary R. Hardwick. Edna earmarked a portion of the funds to support WS
co-curricular events, at Mary’s request.
The two women met their last year at Oklahoma A&M, sure that fate had
designed the encounter. Both women were born in the same year and month, on the
same day, at the same time, in towns of the same name--Cherokee. Both of these
sensitive, free spirits carried Ruth as their middle name.
I shared Edna’s company on two occasions, once when she came to Clarion for
Mary’s one-woman show, “Gifts of Age,” and once when I visited her home in Ponka
City, Oklahoma. Despite having been born with cerebral palsy, Edna grew into a fiercely
independent woman, a capable social worker, and a healer, who was respected in the
Native American community.
Prior to my visit, Edna sent me a pair of steel gray, leather cowgirl boots so I
could explore her ranch and meet her menagerie. We walked in barns that smelled of
rotting hay and fresh manure. “When this country opened up,” she said, eyes twinkling,
“a woman would pick a horse over a man any day.”
My parting gift from Edna was two rose rocks about four inches across. “This
region is one of the few places in the world where you can find these rocks,” she
emphasized, obviously proud of the fact. When I told Mary my specimens looked like
vaginas, she laughed hysterically. I took it that it was unlikely that Edna would ever see
the resemblance
I’m thankful to Edna, who died in March, for helping us to provide unique learning
experiences such as Kathy describes. Additionally, we supported a Hip Hop Symposium,
brought Eve Ensler to town, supported student travel to New Orleans, and offered
faculty workshops on developing feminist community online.
With her backing, I dove headlong into many worthy projects, undeterred by
funding sources. “Edna R. Brown,” I would say to myself over and over, like a mantra,
“We can do it. Edna R. Brown and I, we can do it.” Saying her name transformed
me into a strong, western woman like her. Then, I’d slip my feet into those steel gray
cowgirl boots and leaned into the wind.
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