Lisa called me at work while I was in a meeting, three days before Thanksgiving.
I’ve never heard her like this. Well, I had heard her like this once before and it was at a moment previously and nearly exactly 10 years ago, 10 years minus one week, with the passing of her father. Jack, and now Mickey. With Mr. Foley it had happened in a gross one-month-or-so sequence with my dad then hers then my sister-in-law’s. I hesitate to write this previous co-incidence because of the stupid stupid terror of what I am thinking now but that cannot just cannot happen. Hearing her on the phone–no–just seeing the call from her was crushing. Phone calls do not happen between us.
Can she drive? She’s at work. She can, so we meet at home and pack more clothes than needed, planning for everything that might happen this week. Overpacking in the way you do. There’s every uncertainty of when you might start crying, being silently grateful that you’re silently not thinking about it and not crying, and then feeling guilty that you’re not. I cannot speak to what she went through.
In Knoxville, her and her brother and I are given free executive suite rooms by the owner of a very nice downtown hotel because of his appreciation of Mickey. She had helped him or he her or some sort of collegial reciprocation had happened over the years, and we will realize and benefit from the fact that that had happened with many other individuals in Knoxville. So many. The arts community, government agencies, the mayor-now-governor, every large and small department had some cherished interaction with her. This over a period of twenty years or so I’m not sure. I’m half bragging because it’s impressive and so sweet and so impressive. Throughout the half week [this is Wednesday now] there were so many. The offered help is helpful yet also a burden of pride that makes it hard to accept offers that are humbly expansive. I speak for myself, of course, of my impressions and I guess even the most sincere acts in a time of anguish will be difficult at that time until there is some distance. “I’ll do anything.” “How can I possibly ask anything of you?”
Monday is check in, then to the house to meet Vicky, Narda, and Michelle. Narda and Michelle had entered the house on Monday and found Mickey in an unfortunate way. According to what I know medical examiner, police, and cleanup were called. We went to the house with the peppermint oil smell and the friends manning the phone bank for explanations. Red the beloved dog was there for however many days before discovery and now at the animal boarding place. All aspects are sad. (There are other aspects that I want to document here for my own flawed memory but that are too personal so won’t.)
We stay as others are informed, calls are made, and everything that can be done that night is done. L&M&I go to the hotel restaurant late and they are open and we order food and we eat and we reminisce and we enumerate what needs to be done the next day that is Tuesday. Already calendar clarity starts slipping. Is there something about the moment of finality that make time non-specific for those survivors?
Tuesday was busy.
We started at the house looking through all of Mickey’s paperwork. Folders that are well organized are still a volume of personal filing quirks that outsiders coming in just cannot immediately puzzle out. Which documents are valuable? The transitory–car oil change receipts, notes on a catering job, old credit card bills–are many and may contain buried within them a page or two of value. All but will and life insurance are found.
Documents are pulled aside and the bio cleaning owner arrives to assess the job. This is a delicate thing that you don’t think about but know has to happen. He’s incredibly cautious and caring and I weirdly can’t imagine being upset with his presence because of how he handles even the potentially awkward questions. Homeowners insurance should pay for everything minus deductible. Much like the funeral home (as I remember) he manages as much as possible without our involvement. He’ll contact insurance and knows all secondary sources to test (flies? dog urine?) for cleanliness.
We leave for Berry Funeral Home to prepare the cremation and next Monday’s service. Non-invasive autopsy has been managed by Mason after dealing with the police and medical personnel from the initial discovery. The funeral home will manage cremation, urn (no), obituary, service, and list of mourners.
The rest of the day and evening was mostly low-impact restaurant hopping. Late lunch at Stock And Barrel then return to the house for a follow up exam from the bio-cleaning guys (black light). Drinks at the Old City Wine Bar. Snacks at Kefe, a Greek place that Mickey would have loved (maybe she’d been there?). Hotel and beers.
Service is Monday. I don’t have many pictures of her.
- Obituary at Dignity Memorial
- Mickey Mallonee, beloved event planner and ‘light’ to Knoxville nonprofits, dies from Knoxville News
- Mickey Mallonee through the years from Knoxville News
- ‘She kept us all smiling’: Friends recall city events planner Mickey Mallonee from WBIR.com
- “Former City of Knoxville event planner remembered for making the holidays bright”, video remembrance from WBIR TV:
Obituary copied here because I see the obituary link for my dad got 404ed:
Mickey Patricia Mallonee, 76, passed away unexpectedly in her home on November 19th, 2018 in Knoxville.
Mickey Patricia Mallonee was born and raised in Knoxville and graduated from South High School. She briefly attended the University of Tennessee, where she began dating Jack Otis Foley, also of Knoxville. Upon Jack’s graduation the two married and shortly thereafter moved to Moody Air Force Base where Jack completed his pilot training. Their Air Force career took the family to South Carolina, Alaska, Washington D.C., Nebraska, Alabama, Louisiana (where Mickey served as President of the Officers’ Wives Club), North Carolina (where she also served as president of the Officers’ Wives Club), Greece and England, to name a few. Col. Foley retired to Atlanta, GA, where their two children established themselves and continue to live today. Mickey eventually made her way back to Knoxville and soon began her trajectory into the arts and civic communities, becoming director of the Arts Council of Greater Knoxville. Soon after, she began her stint with the City of Knoxville as the Special Events Director for Mayors Ashe and Haslam, during which she had a hand in coordinating 700+ events a year, and became an alumnae of Leadership Knoxville. After “retiring”, she continued her contributions via participation on several boards including Knox Heritage, McClung Museum and Mabry-Hazen House. She loved the city of Knoxville, almost as much as she loved her children, and tirelessly worked to better the city and the community she adored. Her children will miss her immeasurably.
Mickey is survived by her daughter, Lisa Marie Foley and son-in-law, Scott D. Strader; son, Mason Wade Foley and daughter-in-law, Danice Johnson Foley; nieces, Vicky Llewllyn, Karen Williams, Pam Hays, Paige Mallonee Brooke; nephew, Mike Robinson… and her dog, Red.
She was preceded in death by parents, Michael and Adeline Mallonee; sister, Barbara Ann Robinson and brother-in-law, Eugene Robinson; brother, Bobbie “Buddy” Mallonee and sister-in-law, Cynthia Joan Mallonee, and ex-husband, Col. Jack Otis Foley, USAF, Ret., all of Knoxville, Tennessee
Service to be held at Berry Funeral Home, 3704 Chapman Highway on Monday, November 26, 2018 at 2:00 pm. Reception to follow from 4:00 – 8:00 PM at Historic Westwood, 3425 Kingston Pike. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in her name to either Knox Heritage and/or McClung Museum at the University of Tennessee.Condolences may be offered at www.berryfuneralhome.com.