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She stood 4 1/2 feet tall. Maybe.
When she passed on a couple weeks ago, she looked like she weighed about 45 pounds.
And yet, Mary Troisi was a giant.
At this point, you want to know why that is and, just as importantly, how does that impacts you?
The answers lie in the circumstances of life that Mary was dealt and the manner in which she weaved them into an exemplary life that influenced all who know her, particularly her own family.
She grew up the youngest of 10 children, which only accentuated her slight physical countenance. But when the boys in the neighborhood were playing baseball, they included her, not as a favor but because she was good. And she played catcher, as if to spit in the eye of expectations.
She loved to play sports and watch sports and could talk the strategy of baseball with anyone. In later years, when we would have her over for Thanksgiving dinner, she would barely have her coat hung in the closet before asking, "how are my Dodgers going to solve their bullpen problems this winter."
This usually followed yet another season in which the Dodgers had won 90-plus games and battled for a pennant. But Mary had the same high expectations as Joe the Bartender in Brooklyn. I was watching a baseball game with her brother John a few years ago and the Dodgers had blown a lead to the Phillies. Mary called her brother to assess the work of the bullpen in words that cannot be published in this family newspaper.
Mary was a solid bowler as she progressed into adulthood. But she did not just participate casually in the sport. She involved herself in it to the point where she was named to the Women's Bowling Assn. Hall of Fame.
Mary did not have a spouse and did not have children, so in the eyes of conventional living, the hand of life circumstances she was dealt left her missing out.
But she took those circumstances and painted her own life story portrait in very bright, bold colors. She approached the things she loved with gusto. She had a big voice for a tiny person, with singing talent that was real and a gregarious laugh that was unforgettable as well as her happy hands.
About those happy hands. If something made her happy, she would rub her hands together vigorously - like you would rub two sticks together to start a fire – and let out that excited giggle. We called it The Mary Shake, which she demonstrated for us a month ago despite being hearing impaired and weakening by the day.
No kids? Well, that's only technically accurate. Mary attached herself to the children of her nine brothers and sisters, genuinely interested in how their lives were evolving. At our humongous family reunions, she would move like a lightning bug, descending on each family table to catch up on how each niece and nephew was doing. Months later, she would ask me for a progress report on something we had talked about.
But the truth is, we all wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see us.
The six siblings in our family so revered Mary that we came up with a special title for her. We referred to her as Great Aunt Mary.
And great was her message - the world gives us circumstances, but we control the quality of our lives by what we do with those circumstances.
That's what you can take from Great Aunt Mary.
We already have.
R.I.P., Mary, you were one of a kind.
Dave Troisi is the Sun-Gazette's retired editor.