In memoriam: Agnes Smit

January 2, 1936–February 2, 2023

By Lilia Simis '90

I first met Agnes when I came to MDI to make sure that COA was the right college for me. I was walking down Cottage Street and stopped to watch as she loaded the back of a small truck with loaves of bread. She saw me watching, and thrust a loaf of bread into my hands as she said, I overestimated. Before I could thank her, she was pulling away from the curb.

Several months later I walked into the Sunflower Bakery; Agnes took one look at me and asked, How’d you like that bread? This was the start of a long and wonderful friendship we both held onto until her death on February 2, 2023.

Agnes was a collector; a collector of stories, recipes, information, marvels of nature, friends, and books. All of her most favorite books have pages marked with dried flowers, leaves, or feathers she collected on her walks. She lived through her books, often referencing one-liners from her favorite authors. The hand that writes is the mind that speaks was one she often spoke out loud, even as her memory began to slip.

She always had a thought to share, provoking conversations that I could hold onto for hours, teasing out the lesson she was offering. She prided herself in bringing wisdom from the past to encourage problem solving of the present. Agnes had very strong opinions; at the same time she believed it was good for people to express themselves. You gotta hear what people have to say, she would say. How else are you going to form your own opinion?

Agnes believed no one should ever go hungry. She spent her days feeding people. She fed people with ideas, books, remedies for their ailments, and—of course—the incredible foods she created in her kitchen. Many people think of her as The Bagel Lady, but truly she was so much more. She was a chemist, a physicist, a naturalist, a humanist, an intellectual attracted to brilliance, and a true lover of the miracles of life. She embraced a brilliant mind, a brilliant sunset, a brilliantly colored fallen leaf, and the brilliance of a perfect dough.

These last few years, my visits and FaceTime calls were filled with conversation about interesting articles in The New York Times (Tuesdays were her favorite because of the Science section), the current political divide, the great writing in The New Yorker, a bit of goings on about Bar Harbor, the latest milestones my kids were reaching, or a challenging interaction with a customer at work. She would end our chats with, Every day ends, Lilea, every day ends. I take comfort in her wise words, and am sad that from now on every day ends without a moment with Agnes.  

Photos credit Lilia Simis '90.