Maureen White, who was buried July 26, on what would have been her 100th birthday, moved to Santa Barbara in 1980. She and her husband, Bernie, had moved out to California from Ohio eight years earlier, but it wasn’t until Santa Barbara that they found their place here.
They bought a house in Hope Ranch, being beach people, and were enchanted with the place. The first spring they arrived, they went walking with their new puppies and were greeted by various neighbors with the news that “The monarchs are back!” The Whites, who hadn’t yet noticed the butterflies, found nothing surprising about the fact that whatever reigning monarchs were left in the world would also seek out Hope Ranch for their informal seats!
While Bernie continued to commute to Palm Springs, where his business was, Maureen threw herself into community life and activities. A former English teacher, she was honored to be selected for the Grand Jury that investigated the juvenile justice system. She also joined the Women’s Board at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art, and eventually served as chair.
At one of the galas for which the Women’s Board was known, she and Bernie and some friends were seated with a younger woman whom none of them knew very well. She was “lovely,” Maureen told the group, but her husband seemed ill at ease in the company, shifting unhappily in his tux. When Bernie and a friend announced that they were going out “for a smoke,” he leapt to his feet and joined them.
“Thank God!” the younger man said, once they got outside, and pulled out a joint. The elder two, slightly shocked, showed him their cigars.
“Oh,” he said, “when you said a smoke…,” but they all lit up happily enough together, each to his own, glad enough to steal their moment away from their wives’ festivities. The younger man introduced himself. The next day, Bernie said to his visiting children, “Any of you heard of Joe Cocker?”
“You had a smoke with Joe Cocker?” went around the breakfast room.
“Nice guy,” smiled Bernie.
The Whites also loved and supported the Music Academy of the West and Santa Barbara City College, where they served as Friends of the Eli Luria Library. Maureen received the Woman of Valor award from the Jewish Federation, where with her sister-in-law, Jeri Eigner, among others, she cofounded the women’s division.
But when she wasn’t involved in all these numerous community activities, you would most likely find her at the beach with her children and grandchildren. Every morning, the White House would send down a bathrobed contingent of early-morning swimmers, who would then come home to an obligatory bowl of Maureen’s incomparable oatmeal and the paper-thin rye bread that Bernie still got from Los Angeles.
Then, in the evenings, they’d be back again, Bernie and Maureen in their beach chairs sipping their vodka, the grandchildren out collecting driftwood, and the children hard at work at the grill. For years, they kept a locker at the beach, complete with folding table, Weber grills, threadbare tablecloths, and ragged sweatshirts for after another family obligation: the sunset swim. Year in and year out, the far-flung children would return — from Brazil, from England, from Los Angeles, from New York — to stay as long as they could for those days and nights that seemed like they would never end.
Eventually, there were great-grandchildren as well, each one welcomed into Maureen and Bernie’s White House, each one taking their place in the line that seemed for a while unbroken.
Both Bernie and Maureen lived long lives, not long enough for those who hoped they would live forever, but long enough for the values they lived by and the traditions they established to take hold. All residents and visitors to the White House still love the beach. All, no matter where they mostly live, care deeply about Santa Barbara and consider it their spiritual home.