My Friend Maury

Maury Irvine

Words and Image by Blair Speed

Maury Irvine is one in eight billion.

I don’t remember the exact day Maury became one of my best friends but I am grateful that it happened. If I didn’t know Maury my entire view of humanity would be different. He has that much of an impact on me, he can elevate the world. Maury is truly magic. I met him 13 years ago, when he was 88 years old and I was 24. He forever changed my lens to life and my understanding of the potential of the human heart. In a world that often shouts, Maury has been a quiet beacon, a guide to help me navigate this whole human experience, teaching curiosity and enthusiasm, with his head bowed respectfully before it all.

Maury was born in San Francisco in 1924, and remembers riding the trolley across town during The American Prohibition as a child. Maury was deeply moved by Pearl Harbor and immediately attempted to enlist in WWII. Because of a birth defect in one eye he was turned away from enlistment offices, Maury went back 27 times to try to join the Navy. He was eventually hired by TWA Airlines, who had lowered the eyesight requirement because of the ongoing war, and after realizing he would be desk-bound joined the Merchant Marines. Maury became a decoder during WWII, working closely with the ship’s captain and traveling the world.

Maury first learned about the Probability Equation one night during the war when German fighter planes dropped bombs at random in an attempt to hit an American ship. Coastal defenders would cover the harbor in a smokescreen each evening, making the flotilla invisible. From his ship's upper deck Maury watched a bomb drop and hit water. Plunk! Another one. Plunk! And then another one even closer to the ship. Plunk! He was filled with a deep sense of dread and fear as he realized the next one would hit his ship but the bomb never came. The plane had run out of ammunition and Maury stood on the boat looking out into a vast darkness. From that point on Maury committed to living a rich and full life, fueled by a great appreciation just to be alive.

When Maury returned home from the war, he went to Montana College (now Montana State University) and then did his PhD in Physics at Lehigh University, where he also taught. He eventually become part of the team at Bell Labs that invented the first transistor computer. If you visit Bozeman, make sure to check out The American Computer and Robotics Museum where Maury is featured for his contributions to the advancement of computers and technology.

Maury's research and development greatly impacted America’s ballistic missile defense system during The Cold War. And while he has shared many stories with me, Maury never spoke about this part of his life. At his 99th birthday this year I learned that much of this is still classified information.

After a long and rich career, Maury and his wife, Lois, returned to Bozeman for retirement. Maury began his fourth career as a volunteer at The Museum of the Rockies, where I was fortunate to meet him. Jack Horner was the Head of Paleontology at the time. Maury hit it off with this prolific scientist and thinker and they traveled to five different continents together digging for dinosaur bones. Maury volunteered at the Museum for almost 30 years and donated over 10,000 hours of volunteer service, often guiding Montana school children through the dinosaur hall or traveling exhibits hall. What a gift.

When I met Maury he had already experienced so much of life; careers, his family, all seven continents and yet his vigor and appreciation to be alive still sang through. Maury went back to Italy at 92 years old and climbed Mount Vesuvius. He and his dear friend and traveling partner, Bobbi, visited 33 countries in seven years. When he was 94 I drove him to the airport for a flight to Cambodia. He had always wanted to see and experience Ankor Wat, a wonder of the world.

By then Maury had experienced so much life and love and loss — his wife and love, Lois, had already passed, his son passed, his daughters were living, exploring, and closer to their own retirements — and he was still so engaged and appreciative to be here. Never afraid to be a beginner, Maury has committed to life long learning. He is always reading, watching, or listening, he is never hesitant to ask a question to learn more.

He is inquisitive, gracious, committed to exploring all forms of knowledge, humble, kind and always asks after the well-being of someone else. Every morning Maury wakes up and does Tai Chi or Qigong. He is usually the first to sign up each year for Bozeman’s Senior Courses: Senior Pole Trekking and Senior Balance classes. For years, every week, Maury attended The Bozeman Dharma Center to meditate or participate in classes. I have learned so much from my dear friend just by watching him navigate his own life with care, appreciation, and an endless enthusiasm to discover.

Maury was 96 years old when we entered the Covid Global Pandemic. Travis, my husband, had died six months earlier. Deep in my own season of loss, I was very scared that I might never see my very dear friend again so one morning early in the pandemic I called Maury, nervous he would be alone or bored. I should have known better. He answered and enthusiastically described the online tour of a museum in Europe he had just taken and how fun it had been. A year and a half later Mark and I were driving through the neighborhood (Maury only lives two blocks from us) and I screamed, “Maury!” as I pointed to him walking on the sidewalk. Mark screeched the car to a stop on the side of the road and I jumped out, “Maury is it OK to hug you?” “Yes!” I hugged my dear friend and started crying because until that moment I didn’t know if I would ever get to do so again. I cried because I am very fortunate to know this human. I cried because in a world that can distract us from the heart of human connection, Maury reminds me how valuable our relationship is to my very own heart. He teaches me so much.

I believe that it is our responsibility to help create the type of world we want to live in, and an avenue of deep creation is our attention. Our attention is incredibly powerful in this world - where and who we give it to. I want to live in a world where The Spirit of Maury grows and exists, I am grateful for the chance to bring eyes and hearts towards such a special being through a podcast. Mark and I sat down with Maury just two days shy of his 99th birthday to record with him. I hope you enjoy the chance to listen. He has impacted me greatly just by being himself. He isn’t concerned with how he is perceived, he is concerned with being. This moves me.

Maury is always grateful for the chance to connect and be together, yet never holds absence over my head or considers it negative; he has always supported me, and encouraged me to live my own life, and to share what I have learned, what we each have experienced when we come back together. Freedom is love.

Having relationships with people who are different than me has been a very important and giving part of my life. I love to spend time with folks who are much older and much younger than me while not making it about the age. I love to spend time with people who have a lot less monetarily than me and folks who have a lot more than me without making it about the money. I love to spend time with folks with different backgrounds, perspectives, interests, and passions. Each of us witnesses the breadth of this human experience through a unique lens. I love the opportunity to see with these different points of view, to walk another's path. Maury's lens — his path — is one of the most stunning I’ve ever had the chance to share.

Since Travis died, I better understand how we will each continue living on through one another. Every action, and the heart of every intention we give this world lives on by example - the ones we connect with and who love us - they truly carry us forward into a new world here on earth even after we have left the physical plane. Travis lives on in me and through so many people who love and connect with him. What an honor. I very much look forward to celebrating Maury’s 100th birthday next year and I am incredibly grateful that no matter how much more earth time I get with him, he will live on through every person he has impacted with his big, beautiful heart. What a gift to this world.

Legacy has nothing to do with statues, street names, or university buildings and everything to do with the heart of life.

Maury Irvine truly is one in eight billion and I am so very lucky to call him a friend, a best friend.

Thank you, Maury.