This 88-year-old Phoenix woman chased her dreams and caught them

If Mariam Cheshire was going to pass this damn science test, it seemed like she’d need a time machine.

She’d probably go back to 1945 when Harry Truman became America’s 33rd president and Mariam was a skinny, stubborn freshman at Indiana University.

That’s when college tests were a cinch and Amelia Earhart was her ideal woman.

Seventy-one years later, Mariam was still toothpick thin. Still stubborn. But tests weren't so easy and there were many tests to pass, if Mariam was going to rewrite her past.

Mariam is 88 and she has never considered retiring. She said she'll slow down when she’s 100. Maybe.

But a couple years ago, Mariam decided to revisit her past. She dusted off an old manuscript — one of many novels she’d written and shelved over the years. She re-enrolled in college — she had started at Indiana all those years ago, then again in Phoenix, but never finished.

This time, she wasn't going to let a science test stand in her way.

By May, she was sitting in her apartment with her friends — her cheerleading squad — fussing over her.

They were there to help her get ready for her big day. Soon Mariam would give a speech in front of a room filled with retirees.

In her living room, the sun was shining on Mariam’s collection of ceramic dragons, the jewelry she makes by hand, her books and news clippings.

Mariam pointed out old family photos and one of Amelia Earhart.

“She’s my hero,” Mariam said. “She said, 'I do it because I want to.’ ”

Mariam has adopted the phrase. Her friends say Mariam has a way of making things happen, when she wants to.

It was almost lunchtime and Mariam's friends at the senior center were losing patience. “You’re going to be late to your own party,” her buddy Ursula said.

When Mariam walked into the senior center dining room, she was wearing a blue cap and gown.

She stood in front of the crowd and told them how she self-published a book at 86. How two years later, she refused to let a little science get in the way of a dream. And how, at 88, she became one of Phoenix College’s oldest graduates.

"Because I wanted to," she tells a reporter, laughing.

Getting out of Texas

Standing in her apartment on a hot May day, Mariam was so busy talking about her past, her travels, her books, the love of her life, her son, grandson and great-grandbabies, that she lost track of time.

She remembered all those years ago when she found Phoenix.

A marriage to a good man had ended amiably. Her son Fred had graduated from high school. She wasn’t sure where she and Fred were going but she knew San Benito, the small south Texas town they were living in, wasn’t enough.

Mariam loaded a few belongings and her teenage son into the car. First stop: El Paso. Not good enough. Next, New Mexico, where the desert lowlands and mountain peaks are known as the Land of Enchantment.

Unh-uh. Still not good enough.

Mariam was looking for a certain kind of place, one where Mariam could find work and Fred could earn a diploma.

They left New Mexico and kept traveling until they reached Arizona. First stop: Tucson. A city with a proper college, but Mariam couldn’t find work.

“Mom and I rolled into Phoenix," Fred recalled. "I think we had $15 on us.”

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Mariam knew where their money would go. She pulled out a green book with college listings. They’d been traveling with the directory since they’d left San Benito.

“We were at a hotel in Phoenix near 24th Street and Van Buren,” Fred said.

Mariam remembers it wasn’t much of a space. Fred remembers barely being settled before his mom referred to the green book and looked up the nearest college.

“She said, ‘You! According to the green book, you’re going to Phoenix College — start walking.' ”

He laughed at the memory and glanced at his mom.

They were at dinner. This crowd was mostly family and her squad from the senior center. They gathered at a central Phoenix restaurant filled with old photos, one aptly named “My Mother’s Restaurant.”

Mariam took photos of her own. She wanted to remember this day. It’s one she's waited more than 70 years for.

Life ... happens

It was the early 1960s when Mariam sent Fred to Phoenix College.

Watching her son work toward a college degree gave Mariam a little inspiration. (Though, she'd be more likely to call it a proper kick in the behind.)

Mariam decided it was long past time for her to finish her college degree. Something she’d put off in Indiana all those years ago.

“I got married, had a baby,” she said. “You know … life happens.”

With Fred grown, life in Phoenix wasn’t so busy and Mariam reasoned she had time for classes.

“I took all the classes about things I love,” she said. She loved photography and joined the school newspaper staff.

Fred says his mom is modest, sometimes.

“Mom was a big deal on campus,” he said. “Mom did wonderful things at Phoenix College. She was the editor of the newspaper.”

In the spring of 1965, Mariam watched her 19-year-old son graduate with an associate of arts degree. Then, she watched him march over to Arizona State University where a few years later he graduated with a bachelor’s in psychology. Then came a master’s in health, physical education and recreation and then a doctorate degree in education.

But what about Mariam and her dream of graduating from Phoenix College?

Mariam’s time at the community college ended when she decided it was time to finish a few other dreams.

Writing and traveling

Mariam tells this story often. It’s kind of her opener to how she got to where she is today.

“I started writing when I was 6 years old,” she said. “I told everyone I was going to travel and write.”

She looked around her apartment, and said that somewhere she has a box of all the rejection letters she’s been "gifted" with over the years.

The first one came in 1930 from Liberty magazine. She kept writing anyway.

Mariam married for the first time at 17. Raising a child meant little time for writing and no time for traveling. But she loved Fred and being a mom was something she was good at.

After Fred was settled in college, Mariam saw a chance to think of herself again. So she sold her home and moved to Payson with her cat.

She bought a typewriter, wrote during the day and on some nights and had long talks with the cat.

She wrote a draft of “The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary,” the novel she stood by for years.

It was a book about a young woman named Evangeline who sets off on a trek in 1972 for an alternative world where everything is peaceful.

Mariam penned a few sentences to describe the science-fiction novel. In some ways, it’s a little of her own story.

“Evangeline rode the bus to the walled city, not knowing what to expect and ready to fight any obstacles in her path. She found allies who helped in her determined search. The underground world almost stopped her. Love did not enter into her plan and she pushed it away.”

With her book finished, Mariam made a plan to shop it to publishers in New York City. She sold everything, even her car, to pay her way there. She scored a few meetings. But each chat ended with rejection.

Broke, Mariam decided it was time to go home.

“I put my typewriter up on the shelf and went back to work,” she said.

When Mariam landed in Phoenix she checked the listings for jobs. She found one she thought might be her ticket to traveling.

Getting hired for that job though, well, that took a bit of ... maneuvering.

“I fibbed,” Mariam said flatly and chuckled.

It was a little fib on her resume, just enough to get her an interview and later hired by America West Airlines. She'd fly standby any chance she could.

Soon Mariam was roaming China and Greece. Any spare time was spent nosing around exotic corners of the world. She carried a red suitcase and stayed at hostels, mostly, because that’s what she could afford.

That was decades ago.

At the senior center on a sunny May afternoon, just before Mariam's big speech, her great-granddaughter Tia listened to the story. When Tia tells Mariam she wants to visit some faraway place, Mariam always has an answer.

“She says, 'Oh, I’ve been there, you’ll love it,' ” Tia said. “Grandma’s been more places than anyone I know.”

'The icing on my cake'

Mariam kept writing. The rejection letters kept coming. She worked in the travel industry until her late 60s.

One day, Mariam decided it was time to move into a senior living center. Somewhere affordable where she’d be safe.

She chose the Westward Ho. Mariam had always liked being at the center of things, so downtown Phoenix seemed right for her. Soon she met a man who also seemed right for her.

Mariam found Ed. He had a silvery, bushy mustache and huge crush on Mariam.

Mariam said she wasn’t expecting to find a beau in her 70s. Like her hero Evangeline, over the years love had found Mariam, but it never seemed to enter her plans.

But Mariam’s friends say she has a way of making things happen. She fell for Ed and he made Mariam feel young again.

In Mariam’s apartment there’s a photo of her and Ed. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder, her right hand is intertwined with his left. He’s smiling, her head’s tucked under his neck and her unruly curls are touching his bushy mustache. Mariam's laughing so hard her eyes are squinty.

Mariam picked up the old photo and held it to her chest.

“This is my love of 13 years,” she said. “Ed was the icing on my cake.”

Mariam said they had fun and lived like young lovebirds.

Ed passed away a couple years ago, but not before he got Mariam settled at Silvercrest, a Salvation Army senior living facility near Fourth Avenue and Fillmore Street. He thought she'd be safe there and have fun at the senior center next door.

There, she met Amanda, Ursula and Dorothy — her squad of friends.

She takes trips with her friends to the botanical garden and museums. She says Amanda, a woman with a fiery-red bob, taught her "how to play with rocks."

In Mariam's apartment, on her big day just before her big speech, Amanda rolled her eyes at Mariam. Mariam smiled and showed off her collection of necklaces and bracelets she's made.

In the morning when the sun's still cool, Mariam sits on her balcony and sorts through beads and gems. At night, she blogs on her computer and writes.

A couple of years ago, Mariam was on her laptop engrossed in a trip down the rabbit-hole that is the internet. She stumbled upon the world of self-publishing.

That's when Mariam decided it was time to dust off her old book once more and make something big happen.

Finally, the novel

Mariam thought the lure of Evangeline's story, a tale of a woman looking for a more peaceful world, a sanctuary, was just what today's chaos needed.

She edited it and when she thought it was ready, she finally self-published "The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary."

The 10 Amazon reviews she has so far are kind. She's rated 4.9 out of five stars.

Her first chapter is titled "Swaggering into Sanctuary." Evangeline is sparring with a counselor attempting to get at her secrets.

There’s a passage in which Evangeline talks with the same spunky attitude Mariam counted on when she barreled out of San Benito, Texas, with her son and not much money to her name, when she quit everything to shop her book in the Big Apple and when she told a small fib for a chance to travel.

“You expect me to rant and rave. Then I’m supposed to burst into tears and land in your arms sobbing out the mystery of my life. That trick is green with mold. Get up to date,” Evangeline said.

At the age of 88, two years after publishing her first book, Mariam managed to pack a room full of retirees and a few reporters. They waited to hear her to speak.

Ursula and Amanda were rushing Mariam, but she wasn't budging. Mariam reached for a blue graduation necklace her son bought for her.

"I'm working on my second book," she said. It's about a dragoness named "MYRT-TY-KY-LY."

Mariam checked her profile in the mirror. This time Ursula rolled her eyes.

"You're never going to be any younger, no matter what you do," Ursula said.

Fred won't let her quit

Mariam walked into the dining room and found the crew at the Salvation Army had set up decorations and a cake to celebrate her big day.

Tia walked over to her great-grandma.

"You surprised me," Mariam said. "You said you wouldn't be able to make it."

"I'm here, grandma," Tia said.

Mariam hugged Tia and said loudly that her great-granddaughter is studying at ASU. Tia smiled, no blushing. She's used to the attention from grandma.

Last year, Tia graduated from Phoenix College. Mariam was there to see her walk up to the stage and get her diploma.

It was a big day. It marked the last of her three great-granddaughters to graduate from Phoenix College. Her grandson, Fred's boy, had also graduated from Phoenix College. When Tia graduated, Mariam  remembered all those years ago when she’d told Fred to march down there and get himself enrolled even if it meant spending the last of their savings.

Something about seeing Tia graduate that day, got Mariam to thinking.

The day after Tia graduated, Mariam visited Phoenix College. The school still had all her old transcripts from Indiana and from when she had enrolled in night classes more than 50 years ago.

A registrar told her she needed one science class to earn her college degree. One science class. Mariam had always avoided science because she wasn't good at it. But she figured she could handle one science class if it meant she'd finally have her degree.

Mariam enrolled in the Science of Nutrition. Not so much because she wanted to, but because it was the easiest science class she could find.

In the dining room of the senior center, standing in a blue cap that smooshed her wiry curls, Mariam told her story.

How, at 88, her memory didn't work so well anymore. How most everyone in the room at the senior center knows what she's talking about.

How she failed that damn science test. How afterward, she called her boy.

"I told my son Fred that I intended to quit," she said. "I couldn't find any reason to waste my time on something that couldn't succeed."

Fred reminded his mom that three generations of Cheshires had already been through this same struggle with school. He reminded her she'd held them all accountable for their education.

Now, it was her turn, he said.

And that was that. Mariam opened up her textbook, studied and found a way to battle her memory loss.

Mariam told the crowd about not giving up on traveling, not giving up on her book and about how at 88 she almost gave up on graduating from college. Maybe she was just too old, she recalled thinking.

"Maybe you have a dream that should have been started 50 years ago," she said. "But following the dream is worth the effort. When people tell you not to believe in your dreams, that you can't make it, when they say why bother, then you can say, 'Why not?' "

After her speech, a friend stopped Mariam for a hug.

“I quit (school) in the sixth grade because I had to help with my dad’s farm,” Tristan “Gus” Guadencio, 84, said. “I wish I could be her. I always wanted to go back.”

Mariam told Gus it wasn't too late. Maybe, he said, and hugged her again.

The long walk to a dream

On a Friday, one day after her speech at the senior center, Mariam joined Fred, her grandson, three great-granddaughters and family who flew in from out of town to see her graduate. Ursula and Amanda were there, too, taking turns rolling their eyes and cheering Mariam on.

Fred told a few stories about his mom. The grandkids did the same.

"I'm so proud of her," Fred said. "She's the best mom."

Mariam joked about slowing down when she's 100. She told stories until someone had to tell her if she didn't hurry up she'd be late to her own college graduation.

Even with the sun low in the sky, the Phoenix heat simmered as Mariam made the walk to the football field where her family sat in the stands. A young man held a chair for her each time the procession to the field was told to wait.

"Thank you. I can't stand for long anymore," Mariam said.

On the field, she sat in the front row. She searched for her name in the graduation program. A couple of young graduates asked to take a selfie with her. Mariam obliged, smiled and told the kids she'd post it on her Twitter account.

The announcer started calling names. Finally, it came: "Mariam Cheshire."

Her son Fred and the rest of her family watched. Ursula and Amanda and the rest of Mariam's squad cheered extra loud.

Mariam stood up, walked to the stage and took her diploma.