[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 149 (2003), Part 9]
[Senate]
[Pages 12082-12085]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                   STATEMENT IN MEMORY OF MARY BOWERS

  Ms. SNOWE. Mr. President, I rise today to pay tribute to one of the 
most extraordinary and courageous people I have ever had the privilege 
to know.
  Mary Bowers was an integral and beloved member of my staff who sadly 
passed away on May 3 at the age of 28. My thoughts and prayers are with 
her husband, Wayne Rolland; her parents, Betty and Chris Bowers of 
Hermon,

[[Page 12083]]

ME; Mary's sister, Melissa; and her entire family who she loved so 
deeply. Mary's life was all too tragically brief, but how rich it was 
in experience and love--and how profoundly she taught us all about the 
art of living.
  On a professional level, Mary was a tremendous asset to my staff, and 
I would be remiss not to recall the myriad ways in which she was the 
nucleus of the office. As my Maine scheduler and Assistant to the Chief 
of Staff, she was of extraordinary assistance, and it is no 
exaggeration to say that through her efforts the people of her home 
State of Maine--which she loved so dearly--were exceptionally well 
served. Yet, it should be said that Mary's most significant 
contributions sprang not from her work in my office--but instead from 
the positive and irrepressible force of her presence.
  I first came to know Mary as a young volunteer on my campaigns for 
Congress. She was passionate even then about politics, and the role 
that government and elected officials could play in securing for 
America the blessings and ideals upon which our Nation was founded. In 
an era when so many of our young people feel disaffected and 
disenfranchised, Mary believed deeply that involvement in the process 
could make a very real difference--that it was a responsibility and an 
obligation in return for the fruits of freedom and opportunity provided 
by the basic tenets of this great Nation.
  As her high school years drew to a close, Mary sought a nomination to 
the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. It was obvious by then she was 
not only a bright young woman, but possessed the kind of exceptional 
qualities that would make her a success both at the Academy and--even 
more importantly--in life--honesty, a commitment to service, an 
unassuming yet unmistakable confidence, and an intangible demeanor that 
inspired others to their better nature.
  Indeed, even early on, Mary embodied the essence of a leader. Later, 
as a member of my staff, she always took charge without ever ``taking 
over''. She would have made a brilliant Army officer--people would have 
followed her anywhere, responding to the genuine persuasiveness of her 
personality and the clarity of her vision.
  But Mary's greatest challenge was thrust upon her while at the 
Military Academy--one far greater than any obstacle course. Young, 
vibrant, full of promise--she learned she had cancer. In the months and 
years that followed, in all of the ways that truly count in this world, 
she would meet that challenge--and in the process forever change the 
lives of all who were blessed to know her.
  Perhaps what was most heroic about Mary is that she never allowed 
herself to be defined by her disease--yet the way in which she 
comported herself while fighting her disease epitomized her very 
essence--and will surely be the legacy that lives on in our hearts and 
the way in which we lead our own lives.
  Quite simply, Mary was a diminutive dynamo. Tiny in stature, she was 
a giant in her soul. Even as cancer sapped her physical strength, she 
possessed a deep, more spiritual reserve from which to draw. Certainly, 
there appeared no rational explanation for her ability to muster 
energy. We could no more understand how she defied the realities that 
cancer imposes on the human body and spirit than we could determine how 
she summoned such extraordinary courage.
  During her 4 years on my staff, she endured numerous, punishing 
treatments--none of which were subtle in their physical impact--even 
apologizing for having to go to doctor's appointments! Throughout it 
all, her attitude was unfailingly positive and gracious. Any of us 
would most certainly have excused Mary for any moodiness or bristling 
response, but the opportunity never arose. Rather, she was always more 
concerned for others than she was for herself.
  With unfailing humor, she had a way of disarming even the most 
stressful of moments and deflating the small absurdities that creep 
into everyday life. The treats she baked and brought into the office--
again, even when she was not feeling well--were a tangible gift from 
her heart. And while the rest of us would be affected by daily trials 
and tribulations of a much lesser nature, Mary was the one whose light 
shined into our lives and lifted our emotions. Indeed--her lifelong 
love of lighthouses was entirely appropriate, as she stood most firm 
when the seas were at their roughest . . . she was a beacon of 
brightness and hope . . . and her presence on the landscape of our 
lives will be enduring.
  Particularly in our line of work, we have the opportunity to meet a 
great many people--some of high title, others who are the unsung heros 
of our society. But the universe of those who truly change the course 
of our own lives by their example is much, much smaller. My staff and I 
will forever count Mary among those individuals.
  In my own life, I have known adversity. And yet, Mary has taught me 
lessons in living I had not yet fully realized. I know it is the same 
for my staff--who, to a man and woman loved and respected Mary and the 
example for which she stood. All of us will now be the personal 
messengers of her indomitable spirit and, in turn, that part of Mary 
that lives on within all of us will continue to impact the world 
forever, for the better.
  The measure of Mary's life will never be the crude yardstick of the 
number of years on earth, but rather the number of lives she touched 
while she was among us. In the words of the great American author Ralph 
Waldo Emerson, ``to know even one life has breathed easier because you 
have lived--this is to have succeeded.'' I could not agree more, and in 
that light Mary Bowers was most assuredly one of the most successful 
people one could ever hope to know. We love her and we will miss her 
more than words have the power to convey.
  I ask unanimous consent that a retrospective on Mary's life published 
by the Portland Press Herald be printed in the Record, as well as a 
copy of the eulogy delivered at her funeral service by my former Chief 
of Staff, Kevin Raye.

             [From the Portland Press Herald, May 6, 2003]

      Mary Bowers, 28, Small Senate Staffer Who Made Giant Impact

                        (By Joshua L. Weinstein)

       Bangor.--Ask Mary Bowers' husband if his wife had any 
     subtle ways of letting him know she loved him, and you'll 
     hear:
       ``There was nothing subtle about Mary. She just told me 
     that she loved me all the time.''
       Mrs. Bowers, who died Saturday, was like a summer day in 
     Maine: clear and sunny and not with us nearly long enough. 
     She was only 28 when she died of ovarian cancer.
       ``She was courageous, she was funny and warm'' said her 
     boss, Jane Calderwood, the chief of staff to U.S. Sen. 
     Olympia Snowe. ``She's mom to all of us . . . She was really 
     the heart of the place.''
       Mrs. Bowers doted on people, brought homemade chocolates to 
     work, delighted in the little things.
       But she could be fierce.
       She was a tiny thing--maybe 5-foot-3, on her toes--but she 
     had a way about her.
       Before she got sick, she decided on a career in the 
     military. She was accepted to the U.S. Military Academy at 
     West Point, and studied there two years before being 
     diagnosed with cancer. She rallied, and landed at the 
     University of Maine, where she graduated with high honors in 
     political science.
       She worked briefly with Presidential Classroom, a 
     Washington-based program for high school scholars, before 
     joining Snowe's staff, where she was state scheduler and 
     assistant to the chief of staff.
       She was beloved in Snowe's office.
       ``You could tell by her eyes when she was up to no good,'' 
     Calderwood said. ``You could tell because there would be this 
     glint. And if she walked into the room and she had that look, 
     you'd be in trouble.''
       Bowers's husband, Wayne Rolland, said his wife loved her 
     nieces, loved her job, loved the Republican Party, loved 
     history, loved politics.
       ``One of the funny things that she used to say, and it 
     sounds kind of funny coming from a cancer patient, but she 
     used to always say, ``It's better to look good than to feel 
     good.'''
       Mrs. Bowers always looked good, Rolland said.
       With her deep blue eyes and suits from Talbot's, maybe a 
     few white daisies on her desk, Mrs. Bowers had style.
       She was a vegetarian who loved chocolate and the occasional 
     glass of wine.
       She liked country music, especially Garth Brooks. She sang 
     in the church choir when she was a girl, and one of her 
     favorite gifts from her husband was a karaoke machine.
       She always used to sing Brooks' ``Friend in Low Places.''

[[Page 12084]]

       She even sang it at her wedding.
       Mrs. Bowers loved the ocean, and collected lighthouses, 
     along with Beanie Babies and candles.
       Lighthouses and candles made sense, Calderwood said.
       ``She was always the bright light.''
                                  ____


                         Eulogy for Mary Bowers

  (Offered by Kevin Raye at All Soul's Congregational Church, Bangor, 
                                 Maine)

                              May 7, 2003

       Good afternoon. Over the course of my life, I have often 
     stood before a congregation to help lead services. I have 
     often been called upon to speak in public. And like everyone 
     in this sanctuary today, I have often shared in joys and 
     sorrows with family and friends. But never in my life have 
     these three things converged in such a profoundly difficult 
     way for me as they do today.
       When Wayne called me to convey Mary's request that I speak 
     at her funeral, I was profoundly moved. And to be honest, I 
     was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. The desire to do 
     absolutely anything in the world for Mary, crushing sadness 
     that her death was now so imminent, a sense of inadequacy to 
     do justice to her life and her courage, and the trepidation 
     that I would not be able to maintain my composure at this 
     moment.
       But despite those swirling emotions, I embraced her 
     request. Because finally there was something I could do for 
     Mary.
       And because it is an honor to pay tribute to this 
     remarkable young woman whose strength and optimism, whose 
     kindness and thoughtfulness, and whose happiness and loving 
     nature deeply touched so many lives--more deeply than she 
     ever knew.
       And whose penchant for taking care of others and getting 
     things in order never wavered. Even in her final weeks, Mary 
     was firmly in charge, busy organizing, checking off her list 
     of things to do, taking care of the details. As a co-worker 
     said upon learning of her death, Mary's up there organizing 
     heaven right now.
       But even as she took care of the details, and the strength 
     was ebbing from her body, her first thoughts were with 
     others. At every juncture, she was concerned more about her 
     family and her friends than herself. And when visitors were 
     coming, she summoned every ounce of strength to be her bubbly 
     smiling self and lift them up.
       As she said over and over to Wayne, ``It's better to look 
     good than feel good.'' Of course Mary would think that. 
     Because how she looked affected how others felt. She could 
     deal with feeling bad herself, but she wanted others to feel 
     good when they saw her.
       My first memories of Mary are of the little girl who tagged 
     along with her mother volunteering at Olympia's campaign 
     office. A sweet and bright and eager and energetic girl.
       Even at a young age, she knew how to get things done. Or 
     should I say, get her own way?
       Betty told me a great story the other day. When Mary was a 
     little girl, it seems the family pastor had tried in vain to 
     get Mary's father Chris to take on some task or another. When 
     he declined, Mary piped up and said ``You know, Dad's a push-
     over if you flutter your eyes . . . and if that doesn't work, 
     all you have to do is give him a kiss.''
       Well, Mary saved that little tactic for her father--and 
     later used it with great success on Wayne. But for the rest 
     of us, Mary succeeded by working hard and being determined.
       She knew at a very young age that she loved politics. Over 
     the years, and during a succession of campaigns, Mary was 
     there. She helped us organize lit drops, she worked in the 
     office, she licked envelopes, she loved politics. In fact, 
     she once told her mother that when she became President, she 
     would have her mother dust the White House and her father 
     trim the rose bushes.
       Well not only did Mary love politics, but everybody in 
     politics who met her, loved Mary.
       And all of us were so proud of her--her appointment to West 
     Point, her stellar academic accomplishments there and at the 
     University of Maine, where she graduated magna cum laude--and 
     to see what a fine young woman she grew to be.
       But we were not only proud, we were humbled and awed by her 
     grace, her dignity, her strength, her determination, her 
     unwavering optimism and her enormous courage as she battled 
     the cancer that invaded her young body. And how she never 
     skipped a beat in her continued daily devotion to her family 
     and friends, and to her work.
       After Mary had grown up, and had survived her first bout 
     with cancer, she moved to Washington to work for Presidential 
     Classrooms. As it happened, I was also there, serving as 
     Chief of Staff to Senator Snowe. And soon after learning that 
     Mary was in town, I convinced her to leave her other job 
     behind and come to work for Olympia.
       Now, one thing that I have often observed about bright, 
     talented and ambitious young people, college degree in hand, 
     having landed their first job on Capitol Hill, is that they 
     are sometimes disheartened to find themselves answering the 
     phone or entering data, or saddled with other decidedly 
     unglamorous responsibilities. You won't be surprised to know 
     that Mary was different.
       She was as bright, talented and ambitious as any young 
     person I ever hired in nearly two decades with Olympia.
       But Mary was also determined to be the best at whatever she 
     did. No matter what the task, to Mary, it was important. 
     Whether she was taking a phone call from a veteran in 
     Passadumkeag, giving a tour of the Capitol to a family from 
     Lubec, or greeting a member of the President's Cabinet, Mary 
     accorded every person her full attention and her trademark 
     kindness, genuine interest and sweet smile.
       With her extraordinary organizational skills, and penchant 
     for details, she did her work thoroughly and then looked 
     around to see what else needed to be done.
       As I observed her in action, I knew Mary was exactly the 
     person I needed at my side to help me fulfill my 
     responsibilities as Chief of Staff. So I made her my 
     assistant--and also put her in charge of Olympia's Maine 
     scheduling. She literally did the work of two people, and it 
     was one of the best decisions I ever made.
       As my wife Karen can attest, Mary's competence, her quiet 
     unflappability, her uncanny ability to keep track of ten 
     thousand things at once, and her mischievous sense of humor, 
     combined to make her enormously valuable to me, to my 
     successor who also came to depend on her, to Senator Snowe, 
     and--while most of them never knew her, she was enormously 
     valuable to the people of Maine--whom she served with a 
     passion and commitment to the noble pursuit of public 
     service.
       Mary was the epitome of the old adage ``never judge a book 
     by its cover.'' Because this diminutive young woman, who 
     appeared at first blush so small and delicate, and was in 
     truth incredibly sweet, was also as tough as nails. She had a 
     quick wit; she had her own opinions; and she could hold her 
     own in any situation. If you don't think so, you need to see 
     the photograph of her running across a field during her 
     training at West Point, covered in mud, clutching an M-16.
       Not much bothered her. In fact, on Monday, Wayne was 
     interviewed by a reporter for the Portland Press Herald, who 
     asked him many questions about Mary. After he hung up, Wayne 
     turned to us and said ``That guy did ask one question that I 
     didn't answer.''
       ``What was that?'' we asked.
       ``He asked if there is anything that really drives her 
     nuts. That was a hard question. And I didn't answer because 
     the only thing I could think of was ``Yes, a Democrat.'' 
     Quickly adding, ``But even for Democrats, she had a place in 
     her heart!''
       Yes, that was Mary. She had her opinions, and she was 
     passionate about them, but she had a heart big enough for 
     everyone . . . and the only things that really drove her nuts 
     were racism and sexism, two things for which she had zero 
     tolerance.
       On a personal level, I will always be deeply grateful for 
     Mary's selflessness last year, when despite her illness, her 
     loyal friendship brought her home to Maine to be at my side 
     at crucial moments of my campaign for Congress--during the 
     Republican Convention a year ago last weekend, and again 
     during the hectic final weeks of the campaign last fall.
       When it was crunch time, and everyone knew I needed someone 
     to help keep me calm amidst the storm, it was Mary we turned 
     to.
       Knowing Mary was a joy in every respect. Her curious mind, 
     her cheerful outlook and easy laugh, her grace under 
     pressure, her steely determination and unflinching courage in 
     the face of devastating illness, all combined to make this 
     incredible young woman one of the most remarkable individuals 
     I have ever met--or hope to meet--in my lifetime. They also 
     made her much more than a co-worker. They made her a beloved 
     friend--in the truest sense of the word.
       And one of the joys of knowing Mary was that of getting to 
     see her experience the wonder of true love. For that is what 
     she found with Wayne.
       No two people could ever have been more right for each 
     other. And while Mary certainly made Wayne sweat it out for a 
     long time before deeming him worthy of her affections, once 
     she made up her mind, it was a true romance.
       And it was the best decision of her life, for she got a 
     life's partner who was there for her in every way--and who 
     stayed at her side, giving her strength and support and love 
     through every day of her life, and drawing his own strength 
     and inspiration from Mary.
       And while their days together were far too few, they 
     brought each other great happiness and fulfillment.
       Among the things Karen and I will always be grateful to 
     Mary for is allowing us to get to know Wayne, and to share in 
     the joy of their loving relationship, and other small joys 
     like our shared passion for good food--especially Indian 
     food. Of course, Mary's had to be vegetarian, while she 
     tolerated Wayne, Karen and I indulging our basic carnivorous 
     instincts.
       And our mutual love of movies, cook-outs by the pool, 
     enjoying special occasions together like the Inaugural Ball, 
     the celebration of their long-awaited marriage, and being at 
     their side during the up and down fight against Mary's 
     cancer, and in the bittersweet journey of these last weeks.
       Then, of course, there was that picture-perfect summer day 
     in Bar Harbor last August, when Mary and Wayne were married 
     at

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     last. It was the wedding of Mary's dreams, and she was truly 
     a radiant and beautiful bride.
       Moments before the ceremony, when most brides are a nervous 
     wreck, Mary took time to play ring-around-the-rosie with 
     Alexa and another of the littlest guests.
       At the reception, she danced, she laughed, she mingled and 
     spent precious moments with every person there, and she 
     entertained everyone by singing her trademark karaoke 
     rendition of Garth Brooks's ``I've Got Friends in Lo-o-ow 
     Places.''
       And in keeping with the nautical theme of the reception--so 
     in keeping with Mary's love of the ocean and lighthouses, and 
     Wayne's love of the sea--Wayne thoughtfully dubbed every 
     table with the name of a ship.
       Ours was, of course, the State of Maine. And the Bride's 
     table? What else but the Queen Mary . . .
       For that is what Mary was to Wayne--his Queen.
       And she was able to rely on him always. His devotion to her 
     was unwavering and it was boundless. She never made a 
     decision without him, for they were partners in every way--
     even against cancer.
       And through it all, in all the times we spent together, and 
     all the discussions we had, through every hopeful sign, and 
     with every setback, I never heard either one of them ask 
     ``Why me? Why us?'' They just faced every day as a team, 
     determined to get through it together.
       That Mary found such a perfect love with Wayne was a very 
     natural thing. Because Mary has been surrounded by love her 
     entire life.
       Especially Chris and Betty, the parents she cherished, and 
     about whom she was so concerned throughout her illness. And 
     if you have ever spent time with Chris and Betty Bowers, you 
     will understand how Mary came to be so bright and cheerful 
     and optimistic.
       As we heard the beautiful trumpet solo of ``Rock of Ages'' 
     a few moments ago, I couldn't help but think what rocks Chris 
     and Betty have been for Mary. With their frequent journeys to 
     Washington to be at Mary's side at crucial times in her 
     battle against cancer, they were a constant source of support 
     and love for Mary and for Wayne. And I know Mary was so 
     grateful that she was able to spend her last days surrounded 
     by their love.
       And Mary took such comfort from the reassuring presence and 
     tender care of her beloved sister Missy, with whom she was so 
     very close, Missy's husband LeRoy, and such joy from time 
     with her precious nieces Jordan and Alexa.
       She had a very special bond with Jordan, to whom Mary 
     entrusted the secret of fluttering eyes. Jordan used to say 
     ``Auntie, can I move in with you and Wayne?'' And Mary would 
     say ``But your mother will miss you.'' And Jordan said ``But 
     we'd let her come visit!''
       And Alexa, at a different phase in her life. So little, but 
     so precious in her Auntie's eyes. Mary adored them both . . . 
     and the feeling was mutual.
       The circle of love that was Mary's family also included her 
     grandmother Phyllis, who is too ill to be here today, but who 
     faithfully traveled from Sherman to Bangor to spend time with 
     Mary these past weeks, and is here in spirit, as well as her 
     aunts and uncles and cousins, and Wayne's parents and 
     grandparents and other family who became her own.
       And as her days neared their end, she told Wayne she was 
     looking forward to being reunited with her beloved 
     grandfathers who passed away before her. And we know now in 
     sure and certain faith that she is with them today, and her 
     other grandmother she never knew in this life.
       Two summers ago, as Karen and I began building our home in 
     my hometown of Perry, Mary and Wayne and her Uncle Tony and 
     Aunt Carmel bought from us a piece of land that my aunt and 
     uncle had given me at my birth. At a beautiful place called 
     Gin Cove on the Perry shore of Passamaquoddy Bay, overlooking 
     St. Andrews, New Brunswick.
       This spot has been near and dear to me for my entire life. 
     It represents a family legacy, a place where I played as a 
     child, learned to dig clams and experienced the joy of living 
     in Maine. And while I knew selling it would be a big help in 
     realizing the dream of building our home, I was reluctant to 
     do so. But seeing how much Mary and Wayne loved it, and 
     knowing that it would fulfill their dream of being on the 
     ocean, and provide us the bonus of bringing them regularly to 
     Perry, made it just right.
       Now that beautiful spot represents even more. Its beauty is 
     just one more reminder of the beauty of Mary Bowers, and the 
     legacy she leaves us all.
       On Monday, Wayne came down to Perry to his and Mary's spot 
     on Gin Cove, seeking peace and reflection at this place she 
     loved so much.
       May each of us find peace--and joy--as we reflect on Mary, 
     and give thanks to God for sharing her with all of us these 
     past 28 years. And while we're at it, let's whisper thanks to 
     Mary for sharing her love and her spirit and her goodness 
     with us.
       Mary, to take some liberties at paraphrasing Garth Brooks 
     in that song you loved to sing: now we know we have a friend 
     in high places.
       Mary, we love you, we will miss you, and we will never, 
     never, never forget you, for you will be in our hearts until 
     the day each of us join you in Heaven.

                          ____________________