Secrets of Salmer Tawgg

At Merrie’s funeral a year ago, Vonney, her son and oldest child, made a statement that lingers with me. “Merrie was no angel, but she loved her children,” he said as he began to conclude his eulogy of her. I immediately became offended that Vonney would say that my favorite aunt was not an angel. People who knew her knew she wasn’t. Even so, saying it in church the way he did seemed disrespectful. After Vonney made that statement, I did not pay much attention to the remainder of his conclusion until I heard him say, “The heinous nature in which Merrie died. . . .” I immediately began praying that he would not go into the gory details of how seventy-seven year old Merrie was found at her home with her hands tied behind her back and her face burned almost beyond recognition. I did not need to hear the details again nor did I think this information was appropriate for her eulogy.

Apparently, Vonney did not think so either because he did not mention any of the details. Whatever he was about to say next seemed to have eluded him because he stood there at the pulpit looking like he was trying to recall what he had planned to say, then grief overtook him and he tearfully uttered, “God bless us all.” He then took a seat in one of the chairs on the pulpit.

I was quite surprised and troubled when I first learned that Vonney had insisted on speaking the eulogy. Vonney and Merrie’s life together had been a tumultuous one at best. Most certainly, one of her other children or her pastor would have been better able to pay homage to her—the person she had become in her later years. I still believe this.

Everyone who knew Merrie knew of her love for her children. She was very affectionate, caring and loving toward them. This is why we, her family, could not understand why she steadfastly refused to provide her four older children with the name of their fathers. We saw no reasons why the children should not have this information and it was unconscionable that she kept them from knowing their fathers. The children very much wanted this information and tried repeatedly to get Merrie to reveal the names. In the early 1980s, they performed research to gather this information but Merrie would not confirm any of the details they uncovered. DNA testing was not available back then to the general public. Had it been and had the children known about it the outcome of their research may have had better results. Though they loved her, it is understandable that her older children grew to resent her.

It was difficult not to love Merrie. She was captivating and exciting and people wanted to be around her. I likened her to a butterfly busy at work, fluttering from flower to flower, tasting the nectar before moving on. She was an extrovert and so full of life, enthusiasm and fun. She had a vibrant personality and loved throwing parties for family and friends. I watched her at some of those events talk to everyone with such ease and self-assurance. She moved from person to person and group to group engaging in conversations, while at the same time she delivered generous portions of warmth and love before moving on. She was so comfortable and adept in those settings.

Electrifying is the best way to describe her. Her electrifying nature was the reason her parties were well attended. Her talent at starting a conversation about anything, her joke telling skills, and her ability to keep the party atmosphere very entertaining were attributes family and friends admired. She needed no encouragement to walk around the party area to engage in conversation and party with full enthusiasm.

This social butterfly was also gifted at cooking. Her meals were wonderfully delicious and showcased her cooking talent. In midlife, after atoning for her sins, our church finally embraced her and her social butterfly persona became visible in her work with the church choir and the church kitchen committee. She was chairperson of the kitchen committee and was in charge of the food preparation for all church events at the time of her murder.

A week before she was murdered, I attended the church’s annual men’s day banquet, which is held every Father’s Day. At the end of the choir’s last song, Merrie walked down from the choir loft and headed towards the back of the loft where the choir robes were kept. When I entered the banquet hall from the church sanctuary, Merrie had put on an apron and serving gloves and was standing at the beginning of the food serving line. As soon as more than three-fourths of the people had been served, Merrie left the serving line and began meandering around the room making sure everyone had enough to eat; making sure everyone was comfortable; and making sure everyone felt welcomed. Merrie was her usual lively self and she appeared to be happy. I truly believe she was instrumental in making the men’s day banquet a success.

Now a year has passed since her murder and not only does the memory of Vonney’s “Merrie was no angel” statement linger with me, Merrie meandering around the room at the men’s day banquet linger with me. And the reality that her murder has not been solved greatly distresses me. Who murdered her? Who are the children’s fathers and are they still alive? If they are, were they at the men’s day banquet? Are they involved in the murder? What was it that kept Merrie from revealing their names to her children? These questions need answers; I need to find the answers on my own. I cannot wait any longer for the police to solve the murder of my favorite aunt—Salmer Tawgg (pronounced Tall).