Soul Food:

This is a Valentine for Mary Casanova. It’s from the scores of people here in Huntington Beach who knew and loved her.

Mary lived downtown in Huntington Beach for 20-some years. Many, many people now miss her, more, I think, than she could ever have fathomed.

Mary died Jan. 16. She was 75.

I first heard the news from Monique Theriault, a longtime friend of Mary. She had noticed Mary was missing the week before. Debbie Crouse, a stylist at the Main Street Hair Store, told Monique Mary was in the hospital.

But privacy laws kept them from finding out which hospital she was in. Then on Jan. 23, while walking up Main Street with her husband, Johnny, Monique came across a memorial for Mary assembled with flowers and candles.

Monique described Mary as “a fixture on Main Street.” The homeless woman’s usual shelter was the arcade between the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and Color Me Mine, across the street from the Sugar Shack Café.

The memorial, near the fountain at the entrance to the arcade, stood next to Mary’s shopping cart. Her clothes had been sent to a charity thrift shop but her other few worldly possessions remained.

There were books, including a tiny Bible. There were lists of Spanish words translated into English and recipes written on the inside surface of Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory bags.

Among the papers was the torn corner of a check bearing Monique’s address and name. She had given it to Mary long ago.

Mary had spent Thanksgiving with Monique and Johnny sometime in the early ’90s. Johnny remembered the holiday when he spoke at an evening vigil for Mary Jan. 31.

That Thanksgiving was rainy and Monique couldn’t shake the thought of Mary being outdoors, so she went out and brought Mary home to enjoy dinner with their young children and visiting relatives.

Mary stayed the night; showered and washed her clothes. But she wouldn’t sleep in a bed, preferring the family room floor.

Eighteen-year-old Natalie Ryan, who works at Color Me Mine, chatted with Mary every day she worked at the store.

“She was always so welcoming,” Natalie said. “I loved when she would tell me stories about when she lived in a foster home in New York. She said there was always music in the house and that jazz was her favorite.”

After the Thursday evening vigil, jazz lilted from a portable stereo. Natalie saw to that.

The vigil was her idea — “a big send off” for Mary “to her new life.” Monique helped her pull it together.

“[Mary] gave [each of] us a chance to be a better person every day,” Natalie said of the people she often saw talking with Mary. “She deserved to be recognized for the beautiful and strong person that she was.”

As bagpiper David Mackenzie finished his opening tribute, I counted 40 to 50 people at the vigil. But as time passed, I counted closer to 80.

Debbie Crouse and others who’d grown to love Mary came forward to share how she’d touched their lives. Many more wrote notes on cards provided by Natalie and Monique and placed them in a bowl.

Holly Turner-King was at the vigil with her husband and daughters, 3-year-old Mackenzie and 18-month-old Mackenna. Holly works as a server and manager at the Sugar Shack, which her parents own.

Mary ate there every day. “I could go on for days about stories of Mary,” Holly said.

But what she remembers about most of all is Mary’s contagious laugh and smile. “For me,” she said, “Mary just knew how to make me smile.”

Like others do, Holly recalls Mary never wanted to be given money. When at times she bought Mary clothes, Mary would try to pay her for them.

Mary would often be at the restaurant at 5 a.m. when Holly got there to open up. And some mornings Holly would not be in the best of spirits at the start.

But she said, “Just listening to [Mary] laugh and looking at her bright smile would instantly bring me out of my bad mood.” Mary had a knack.

“She knew how to pull me out of it,” Holly said.

Now when she walks through the arcade with Mackenzie, her young daughter tells her Mary is an angel in heaven; they have to look up at the stars to see her now.

Holly thinks Mary was smiling down from heaven at the people who were at the vigil “for the right reasons,” which was simply for Mary. “Mary was a very good judge of character,” Holly said, “She knows who those people are.”

They are the ones who were at the vigil not because they had made a difference in Mary’s life, but because Mary had made a difference in theirs. Like the woman who inched up next to me and whispered, “One day I was so down, and Mary told me my blouse was pretty.”

Three young men walked by after nearly everyone was gone. “Oh, my gosh,” said one as he gazed at the memorial. “Mary is dead. I’ve known Mary my whole life.”

He picked up a match and lighted several votive candles that had flickered out in the wind. They cast their light on a black and white photo of Mary sitting in front of the Sugar Shack.

“You are missed” two women named Nora and Tia had penned across its bottom edge.

MICHÈLE MARR is a freelance writer from Huntington Beach. She can be reached at [email protected].