Marion Hunter was born in 1905 when Theodore Roosevelt was halfway through his two-term presidency, the average wage was twenty-two cents an hour, and the life expectancy of most American folks was 48.7 years of age.
Needless to say, Marion blew that last one out of the water.
If you were to ask her just how it is that she’s been able to stick around so long, she’d probably tell you it’s because she never sat out the sun, has had weekly massages for most of her life, drank bottled water since birth (yes, several decades before it became en vogue), lived as stress-free of a life as possible, had fun and, without fail, indulged in a rather stiff Dewars “White Label” scotch and water every evening at 5 p.m. sharp. (For the last twenty years or so she’s added a bowl full of Cheetos to accompany her libations. A half-spent Dewars bottle, a sparkling lowball glass and the bag of Cheetos are lined up neatly on the kitchen counter awaiting the daily routine.)
“I think you’re the oldest woman in Edina, mother,” says Marion’s daughter, Adele, as we all sit in the living room of the house Marion and her husband, Bill, built in 1935.
“Oh, lord,” replies Marion, who is quizzical as to why people could possibly be interested in hearing her story. She is dressed in a lovely royal blue blouse, matching shell and black slacks; her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her lips and cheeks are rouged. Apparently, this is nothing out of the norm for Marion as she gets gussied up every day. “I’d never sit around in my nightgown,” she says. “Only if I’m sick, and I don’t like it even then.”
Marion Adele Ashley was born and raised near Lake of the Isles and attended Calhoun School; she had one brother, Clifford, who passed on years ago. Her father was the President of Northwestern Casket in Minneapolis and her mother was a wonderful cook (German potato salad and chocolate cookies were her specialties).
Marion was young when she kindled her lifelong love of dancing, taking ballet classes from her grade school teacher. “I spent a lot of time on my tippy-toes,” she says. “I really loved to dance, but I can’t do it anymore,” she adds as she motions to the wheelchair that has been her mode of transportation for the last two years since the peripheral neuropathy set in. “That’s sad.”
Bill Hunter came into the picture when Marion was a junior in high school at Northrop. “A friend of mine introduced us,” she says. “It was kind of funny because he saw me at a dance at Blake School and asked his pals who I was and nobody knew. And so he was pretty frustrated; but then one day I was walking down the street with a friend and he was across the street walking with a friend, and his friend waved at me and Bill said, ‘Do you know her?’ and he said, ‘Well, sure, I went to grade school with her.’ So, one night he brought Bill over and we sat on the porch. I thought he was dreamy."
It was love from that moment on. But Marion’s parents, unlike most parents of girls in her generation, thought Marion should attend college. So, she went to the University of Minnesota and was an active part of the Gamma Phi Alpha Sorority. “I had fun at the U,” she says. “We had dances and put on shows.”
She earned a Bachelor’s Degree in English in three-and-a-half years (cum laude, of course), and for her graduation gift, her parents sent her on a three-month European holiday.
Marion and Bill married in 1930, the kids (Adele and Diane) came in 1938 and 1940.
And, not surprisingly with Marion’s love of dancing, there were lots of dance lessons and dance parties. “Bill was a wonderful dancer,” says Marion. “We used to go to different country clubs and people’s houses and dance.”
There were lots of other things, besides dancing, to fill up the many years of their lives. There was bridge club, their involvement with the Edina Country Club (Bill was an avid golfer and was instrumental in getting the ECC up and running), winter trips to Rancho Bernardo, and Marion’s years of volunteering at the Abbott Northwestern Hospital where she was a “sales lady in the gift shop.” Not to mention their involvement with St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church and Bill’s work as an insurance agent.
Her beloved Bill passed away in 1995. “He was a wonderful man,” she says of her husband and dancing partner of 65 years. “I stopped dancing for a while, but then I danced with a friend of ours; he died at 100. I guess I kill them off,” she says with a laugh.
But Marion has kept on. She has around-the-clock care due to her reliance on the wheelchair, but she still plays bridge with one of her “youthful” sorority sisters and others at Minikahda Country Club. “She’s not even one hundred yet,” adds Marion about one of the gals. She loves seeing plays at the Guthrie and Old Log Theater, and enjoys going to the movies, the Mall of America, Southdale and out to dinner.
She still reads voraciously and keeps a journal by her bedside to jot down that day’s occurrences and thoughts. She also enjoys Thursday morning hair appointments and Thursday afternoon massages.
And, Marion would be the first to admit, “I like to look at TV.” Her favorite show? Yes, you guessed it: Dancing with the Stars. Marion adds simply, “I envy them.”
“It’s not a very exciting life, but I’ve had fun,” she says with another laugh. “I’m not sure what keeps me going, but I’m very blessed, I’ve been lucky my whole life.”
