Minnie Mae Murray; her love, humor was infused in column
Even if you had never met Minnie Mae (Emmerich) Murray, there's a good chance you know a lot about her.
For years, Mrs. Murray was portrayed in intimate detail in ''Now and Then," a column written regularly for the Globe by her husband, Donald M. Murray, as a down-to-earth helpmate whose common sense and humor were an anchor for some of his writerly flights of fancy.
Mrs. Murray, 85, died yesterday after a 13-year battle with Parkinson's disease, the day her husband's column recounted the final hours of her illness.
In memorable columns, Murray described Minnie Mae as ''mother, wife, housekeeper, cook, hostess," and wrote that she ''took care of the children, cooked and baked, laundered and cleaned, sewed and mended, gardened and managed the money."
She also typed and edited his work, corrected and retyped his manuscripts, and took dictation for his book drafts on a typewriter as they drove cross-country. And she kept him firmly grounded with a withering remark if his ego got too big.
Mrs. Murray did not mind sharing her life with strangers. ''She enjoyed seeing our life treated that way in print," her husband said yesterday.
Mrs. Murray was born in Henderson, Ky. A gifted mezzo-soprano, she sang in churches in Washington, D.C., while employed as a secretary to an adviser to the secretary of war during World War II.
After the war, she worked at
Through Murray's columns, Globe readers came to learn much about their 54-year relationship: how Mrs. Murray always wanted to be in charge and jealously guarded her territory in the kitchen; how she stuck the pickle jar where the milk belonged in the fridge, and the cheese in the meat tray; how she turned up the volume on the TV when the air conditioner was set too cold; how they fought for the covers in bed.
He also shared pearls of Mrs. Murray's folksy wisdom. She said, for example, that a good relationship can be damaged by 20 minutes of honest talk, and believed that humor could lighten even the darkest moments.
Murray said people were always asking for her when he went to speaking engagements. ''She was much more popular than me," he said. ''And rightly so."
In recent columns, readers learned of Mrs. Murray's battle with Parkinson's, her slip into dementia, and her move from their home in Durham, N.H., to an assisted-living facility 7 miles away.
In yesterday's column, her husband informed his readers that she had refused medication, food, and water and was slowly drifting away.
''What was to be said had been said," he wrote. ''She feels no pain, suffers no loss of dignity. It is as she had wanted."
In addition to her husband, she leaves two daughters, Anne Nestelberger of Weymouth and Hannah Starobin of Mount Kisco, N.Y.; and three grandchildren.
Funeral services are private.
