Several years ago, a dear friend of ours, Jean Johnson, died and Laurie and I went to her home to pay our respects to her husband Ray. The conversation with Ray was warm and sweet. Condolence calls offer an opportunity to reminisce. It was just Ray, Laurie, and me sitting in the living room sharing memories of our 50-year friendship. I expected to leave with a love-filled heart, but I got a big bonus. Ray, in his very simple and humble way, imparted some wisdom to me that I will forever cherish.
Before I reveal that wisdom, let me share some background about my unique relationship with Ray and Jean. When I was in high school, I volunteered backstage at the Miss Texas Pageant which was held every summer in my hometown. It was a blast. What guy wouldn’t enjoy that opportunity! Unexpectedly, my early Miss Texas volunteerism led to a lifelong connection to the Miss America program. For many years, I served on the board of Miss America, the largest scholarship program for women in the world. There are many misconceptions about pageants. But in my experience, Miss America fosters and celebrates women achievement. Beyond providing young women with college educations, it equips them with life skills for meaningful career journeys. (My daughter Lizzy is one example.) Miss America’s mission is to “empower women to lead with purpose,” advancing civic responsibility, academic excellence, personal integrity, and making a meaningful, lasting impact in her community. And for those like me in the vast volunteer family, it provides a network of wonderful friendships with people I’d have otherwise never known—people like Ray and Jean Johnson.
The Johnsons produced the Miss Haltom-Richland Area Pageant, legendary for producing the most Miss Texas winners. Jean and Ray opened their home to their contestant, where they nurtured her to become her best self. The young lady who emerged from that experience faced the Miss Texas competition (and the world) with a confident and powerful presence. The Johnsons’ biggest success story was Shirley Cothran. Shirley was a self-described quiet “bookworm” with a passion for learning, but with limited financial means to pay for it. Jean and Ray saw her potential, moving Shirley into their home where they gave their all to helping her reach that full potential. Shirley not only became Miss Texas, but two months later she walked the long Atlantic City runway while Bert Parks serenaded her with the iconic “There She Is, Miss America.” Moreover, as Miss America 1975, Shirley used her scholarships to earn a PhD in Early Childhood Education and Family Counseling, completely debt-free.
Jean and Ray were working people of modest means. The Johnsons devoted all their resources to raising their own three kids as well as all their pageant “daughters.” Their home was small in size but lavish in love. Every time I was in that beautiful home, I left walking on air. The Johnsons had a way of lifting you up. So, when Laurie and I made that condolence call to Ray, we had a lot of stories to share. Ray proudly showed us Jean’s closet, with a small collection of sequined evening gowns that she wore when judging pageants. She hadn’t worn them in years, but they were prized possessions woven with glorious memories.
As an aside, a loved one’s articles of clothing can actually evoke strong sentimental attachment and soothing memories. Catherine Sanderson shares this view about her departed mother’s clothes in her How to Feel Better blog post of October 2, 2025: “I kept all of her special clothes in the back of my closet. I had no idea what I would ever do with them, but I knew I couldn’t bear to part with any of them.” Sanderson recently wore one of her mother’s dresses to a wedding and reports how much she loved feeling that connection to her mother. “My experience about how good objects that trigger positive memories feel is well supported by research in psychology.” Jean’s pageant gowns were providing Ray that same kind of powerful connection to happy times with his beloved wife. It was clear that Ray was never going to part with those clothes and the memories they evoked.
Now back to the condolence conversation we had with Ray. Two things Ray said that impacted me forever:
- “Every year on the Fourth of July, our family gathers here to celebrate. We have all our kids, grandkids, great grandkids. It’s up to about 50 people now. Everyone comes and we have the best time together. I hear some families don’t get along with each other and don’t get together. I can’t imagine that.”
- “Marvin, you won’t believe it, but I have an IRA, and the balance is now up to $15,000. Whoever would have believed I’d have that kind of money?”
You see why I am so moved by the wisdom from this humble fellow? Ray was about 5’5” (he and I saw eye-to-eye), but he was a giant of a man. One of my mother Elsie’s favorite sayings comes from Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) where Ben Zoma taught: “Who is rich? He who is content with his lot.” True wealth has nothing to do with your balance sheet. Ray’s net worth was defined by his wonderful marriage to Jean, their loving family, all the people (like Shirley Cothran) they helped, and all the memories in that beautiful home and those sequined fabrics. Ray Johnson was a rich man.
A final note to all my wonderful high-net-worth clients and friends: The next time the stock market takes a big dip (and we know it will), we all need to think of Ray Johnson. We need to fight the temptation to feel “poor” when that happens, and measure our wealth not by dollars and cents, but with our true riches.
Marvin E. Blum
Jean Johnson, beloved wife of Ray Johnson, at the Miss America Pageant to cheer on one of the many Miss Texas winners she prepared for competition (and for life).
