Every year when September 24 arrives, my thoughts turn to my mother, Mary Jane (Reed) Gartner. This year, rather than simply remembering her birthday, I find myself thinking about something that has become increasingly meaningful to me: how much of the history I have spent years preserving grew out of the many conversations we shared and the memories she passed along to me.

Mary Jane (Reed) Gartner (1922–2019).

My mother was the daughter of Lewis Reed, founder of Reed Brothers Dodge, and she grew up surrounded by a family business that became part of Rockville history. Long before I understood how valuable her memories would become, she was my connection to an earlier generation of the Reed family. During countless afternoon visits, we would sit together and go through boxes and albums filled with old photographs. Many had no names, dates, or locations written on them. I would hold up a photograph and ask, “Who is this?” or “Where was this taken?”

More often than not, she knew.

A face that meant nothing to me would bring back a name. A house, automobile, storefront, or familiar stretch of road would trigger a story. Sometimes one photograph led to another memory, and before long I was hearing about people and places that otherwise might have disappeared from our family history.

At the time, I don’t think either of us realized just how important those afternoons would become.

Years later, as I began researching and writing the history of Reed Brothers Dodge and organizing my grandfather’s enormous photographic collection, I repeatedly returned to the information my mother had shared with me. Her memories helped put names to faces, places to photographs, and stories into context. They became part of the foundation for this blog, my books, and the historical exhibits that followed.

In many ways, she became one of my most important historical sources.

A special Christmas memory with my mother, Mary Jane (Reed) Gartner, in 2004.

But what I inherited from my mother went far beyond family history.

She taught me to approach life with determination and curiosity. One of her favorite sayings was, “Anything worth doing is worth doing well.” She also refused to accept the word “can’t”. If there was a problem, her instinct was to look for a way around it rather than a reason to give up.

That philosophy stayed with me throughout my life.

Perhaps that is also why she never allowed age to dictate what she could learn. At 90, she joined Facebook. She learned to Skype and text, used an iPhone and a Windows PC, and approached new technology with the same curiosity she brought to so many other things. Instead of saying something was too complicated or that she was too old to learn it, she simply learned it.

She was also my greatest supporter.

One memory I especially treasure is seeing her in the audience at Glenview Mansion in 2016 when I received the Arthur M. Wagman Award for Historic Preservation Communication from Peerless Rockville. I was being recognized for documenting and sharing Rockville history, but so much of that work had been made possible by the woman sitting in the audience.

When I saw the pride on her face, I knew the moment belonged to both of us.

My mother died on September 10, 2019, just two weeks before her 97th birthday. Yet in a very real sense, she remains present in the work I continue to do. Every time I identify another photograph, uncover another piece of family history, or share another story from the Reed Brothers Dodge archives, I am building upon something she helped preserve.

Historical preservation is often thought of in terms of photographs, documents, newspapers, and artifacts. But some of our most valuable history lives only in people’s memories. If we are fortunate enough to ask the questions while those people are still with us, their memories can become part of the permanent record.

I was fortunate.

I asked the questions.

And my mother told me the stories.

Today, on what would have been her 104th birthday, I remember my mom not only as Lewis Reed’s daughter or as part of the Reed Brothers Dodge story, but as my mother, my greatest supporter, and the person who helped me understand that preserving history often begins with simply sitting down, listening, and remembering.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom.

The stories you shared with me are still being told.