In Memory of Sister Mary Charles Sellers

A campus minister at the University of Southwest Louisiana in Lafayette once marveled at the students from Kaplan. They would arrive early on the bus and wait in the Catholic center until class time. "What is it about Kaplan?" she wondered aloud. They all seem so gracious and gentle." Someone said, "Maybe it's something in the water."

Sister Mary Charles was from Kaplan; she was gracious, gentle, and more. Her father, Victor Sellers, a rice farmer, had a German name, and her brothers, Romuald, Willie, Cleveland Charles, and sister, Adela, like herself were not given French names; her mother was Marie Hebert, and French was spoken at home. The youngest was baptized "Alix" in French. She later altered the spelling to Alex, but resisted any suggestion that it was short for anything. (The profession book has "Alexandrine.) She retained the soft French accent of Southwest Louisiana to the end.

She came to St. Mary's Dominican Academy in New Orleans where she appears in group pictures as tall, slender and beautiful After school she would help Sr. M. Teresa Prendiville fold clothes and they would talk. Alex entered the convent in 1924 with Sisters M. Rita, Liguori, Alexaidia, Paul and Reginald. A novice, Sister M. Clare, would become her lifelong friend.

So it was, too, with her seemingly inseparable friend Sister M. Clare, who preceded her in death by more than two years. "She died; I 'm still living," she said, matter-of-factly, as she chose life. Off in her wheelchair to her weekly Bingo at Metairie Manor; active in motherhouse activities: the music therapy group where she surprised everyone by kicking the nerf-ball with her "wooden" leg; Share the Word, the Friday scripture discussion group. She rarely missed a movie. She did not freely admit her age, maybe not even to herself.

Sister Mary Charles taught in eleven parochial schools, grades one to five. Earl Garitty remembers her from St. Anthony, where she taught him fourth grade in 1936. When he came to school with a cut foot, Sister went over to the convent for a pillow to put under it.

She was skilled at sewing and fancy work; Sr. Marjorie Millet's whole family treasure the rosaries made by her hands. Her rosary pliers will be kept in the archives as a memorial. Sr. M. Veronica told of praying the rosary with her. Veronica once asked, "Do you ever get tired of praying?" Her answer was laconic, and to the point. "No."

She kept the beauty of her youth; her eyes spoke her sense of humor. She was graceful, affectionate and she loved people.

She was courageous in the face of pain and suffering; after being attacked at St. Agnes Convent in Baton Rouge in 1981, she testified in court, saw the criminal convicted, and returned to work in the parish and at the soup kitchen until she retired five years later at 82. A leg amputation was not the end for her; she kept on going.

Marjorie McKay, a faithful friend, onetime pupil at Lourdes, visited regularly. Often she would ask, "Can I get you anything, Sister, anything at all?" "Nothing," Sister replied. "I have everything."