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Marianne MacFarlane

Died September 11, 2001

The following appeared in the Boston Globe on Saturday, September 15, 2001.

She was a passenger service agent for United Airlines. She was traveling to Las Vegas with a coworker for a short vacation. She loved white-water rafting and Disney World. "She had probably been there 100 times," said her brother George.

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Boston Globe Sunday
September 16, 2001

MACFARLANE - Of Revere, tragically on board United Flight 175 on September 11, 2001 Marianne MacFarlane 34 years old. Loving daughter of Anne (Flood) MacFarlane of Revere and the late George T. MacFarlane. Dear sister of Chelsea Firefighter George T. MacFarlane and his wife Patricia and Joseph MacFarlane all of Revere. Loving aunt of Stephanie and Michael Lawrence.

The family will receive and accept visitors of Tuesday, September 18, at St. Rose Church, 600 Broadway, CHELSEA commencing at 6:00 P.M. followed by a Funeral Mass at 7:00 P.M. Relatives and friends are most kindly invited to attend.

Services will conclude with a gathering of fellowship & remembrance, to be held at the Logan Hilton Hotel immediately following the Mass. Should friends desire contributions in Marianne's memory may be made to The New York Firefighter's 9-11 Disaster Relief Fund c/o Firehouse.com, 9658 Balitimore Ave, Suite 350, College Park, MD 20740.

Anthony Memorial Funeral Home Chelsea, MA
 
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AND.....ONE YEAR LATER........
 
September 9, 2002
Be sure to read yesterday's Boston Globe Magazine article "My side of the
story" on page 10. The article is by Virginia Buckingham, former head of
the Massachusetts Port Authority. Our relative, Marianne MacFarlane died
on September 11. 2001, on United Flight 175 bound for Las Vegas from
Boston. The article relates that after 9/11, Virginia Buckingham made
contact with Marianne's mother Anne MacFarlane. Virginia and Anne share
their grief and tell how they moved on.
Bob Gillis (cousin of Marianne MacFarlane)

 
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Excerpts (edited by Don MacFarlane) from:
The Boston Globe September 8, 2002:
"My Side of the Story" by Virginia Buckingham
 
Marianne MacFarlane, a 34-year-old United Airlines gate agent, had been on
United Flight 175 for a mini-vacation in Las Vegas. Her mother, Anne
MacFarlane, a Logan public service representative and former flight
attendant, describes Marianne as "everybody's friend." That her mom was
Marianne's dearest friend was plain to all who knew them.
Marianne's first airport job was selling flowers out of a cart in Terminal
D. As her mom says, "Once you work at an airport, you can't work anywhere
else." Despite a college adviser's admonition that "she had no future in
aviation," Marianne's career took her to Florida, Maine, and finally back
to Boston and a job with United Airlines. She worked the 4:30 a.m. to 1
p.m. shift and would rise at 4:05 to find her mother waiting downstairs to
drive her to work. "Otherwise, she'd never have gotten there," Anne says
wryly. Although she usually tossed an "I'll see ya" over her shoulder, on
September 11, Marianne said "goodbye" as Anne dropped her off at Terminal
C. Anne almost stopped the car to ask, "Why `goodbye'?"
The MacFarlane family lived in the old Irish section of Revere, in two
double-deckers connected by a driveway and a pool. Anne and Marianne
shared one, and the two MacFarlane sons lived next door. It was George
MacFarlane, a Chelsea firefighter, who heard of the first plane crash and
urged his mother, Anne, to turn on the television. As a commentator spoke
of the horror unfolding in New York City, a second plane careered into the
south tower. Anne watched as her only daughter was murdered. While she
didn't know at the time that Marianne was on the plane, an unease grew.
Anne at first waited at home with her sons for some piece of news, but
then felt an urge to go to the airport. She needed to know. United
Airlines employees were gathered around the ticket counter. When they saw
her approach, some began to cry.
The memorial service for Marianne was held at St. Rose of Lima Church in
Chelsea. When I arrived, the line of mourners stretched for three blocks.
It dawned on me that I might not be welcome here. I had never met Anne and
hadn't known her daughter. My heart pounding, I introduced myself to Anne
and expressed my condolences. She took both of my hands and looked me
straight in the eye. "Don't let them tear our airport apart," she said.
"Promise me." Moments before she bade a final farewell to her daughter,
Anne saw far beyond her own sorrow. "I won't," I said. "I promise I won't."
It was a promise I could not keep.........
 
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