“I grew up Mennonite in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We lived on a dairy farm; milking cows isn’t easy. They all had names and personalities; we steered clear of Dina because she would try to kick you every time.
We had a big family—Mom had ten brothers and sisters. Some of my best memories are when we all got together. The men were in one room, the women were in another. The young girls sat there giggling and listening to our moms and aunts talk. Sometimes, they sent us outside because there were things we didn’t need to hear.
I was more sheltered at home than I realized. Our high school was strict, too. Girls wore head coverings, dark stockings, and cape dresses to our knees. Our elbows were also covered. We had school socials, not proms. I was the first in my family to go to college. Most of my family didn’t think college was necessary: just graduate high school and get a job. I read a lot, but most of the books at our house were about missionaries. My goal was to graduate from college as a teacher and join the Teachers Abroad Program.
I started dating my husband J.D. in high school. We married in 1967. We knew J.D. would be drafted in the Vietnam War, but our church was recognized as a pacifist congregation. He filled out the pacifist paperwork, got the exemption status, and joined Voluntary Service that the Government recognized as service to the country. There were no Mennonites in Mobile, but some of our church leaders had a vision that there should be an Anabaptist presence here. The Lord sent us to Mobile in June of 1967. J.D.was 19, and I was 20. J.D.’s job was working with the Boys Club and possibly starting a church. We began with passing out tracts and having Bible studies in the Birdville neighborhood. Blakely Air Force Base had just closed, and Birdville was transitioning into federal housing. The whole area was changing. Urban renewal with the new civic center and the interstate moved many people from their neighborhoods and shotgun houses close to downtown. J.D. and I were new and didn’t understand the animosity or significance of the events during the late 1960s. Our neighborhood went under curfew because of the riots and animosity following the murders of MLK and Bobby Kennedy.
People told us, ‘You’re white. You don’t go there.’ We did anyway. Our neighborhood switched from White to Black. That didn’t bother us. They were just our neighbors; God’s call was on our lives. We opened our church as a youth center. We had a basketball goal and the kids loved to play. We started a church basketball team, and every player was Black. We soon realized that was a problem for the league. Our team learned how to play together and started winning; that really became a problem. We were caught off guard with comments about ‘they know their place’. I thought, ‘where’s my place?’ Years later, we helped open a church for the Vietnamese after Hurricane Katrina. We were just showing love and ministering to the hurting, but I hope in some ways we brought peace between people.
After five years in Mobile, my mom stopped asking when we were coming home. We never left Alabama. We raised our family and served the community here. J.D. was a pastor and later an overseer of churches. I was a PTA president, a substitute teacher, and an aid for 25 years with the public schools. I was also a pink lady—a volunteer at Providence Hospital.
People here don’t know much about Mennonites. We believe the whole Bible is about Jesus: the Old Testament points to him. We try to live like Jesus, loving everyone. We don’t sue, go to court, or swear. Mennonites are also good bakers. I keep reminding my doctor that I grew up on bread, cookies, pies and cakes.
J.D. and I were looking forward to retirement. He was going to retire on January 1, 2017; I would retire from the school system February 2017, right after I turned 70. J.D. died unexpectedly in October 2016. After he died, I worked through the end of the year because I needed something to get up for in the mornings.
J.D. was an encourager. He always said, ‘You can do it, Mary’ or ‘Mary, you’re worrying about the wrong thing.’ A good friend recently passed away; walking into the funeral by myself was hard. I heard J.D. ‘s words, ‘Mary You can do it.’ It’s time to figure out what I can do on my own. I can do it with God’s help.”
Mary
This story has special significance for me because I was blessed to know JD Landis and am still blessed to know Mary Kay. The attitude they took towards race is one we all can learn from. After all, in the end, we’re all just neighbors.