10 Ways You Know You Are a Magician’s Wife Friday, Apr 14 2023 

Following is a post I wrote in 2013 that’s been my most popular. I thought those of you who haven’t seen it would enjoy it, and those who have, may like to see it again.

From past posts, you may remember that I was married to magician Marshall Brodien until his death in 2019. Marshall was the creator of TV Magic Cards and Marshall Brodien magic sets. He also played the clown/wizard character Wizzo for 26 years on WGN TV’s Bozo Show.

In our 23 years of marriage, I entertained a steady stream of guests at our home to see Marshall and his magic, assisted Marshall on stage a couple of dozen times, and attended countless magic conventions with him. All this magic got me thinking about how it influenced me. Here are my top ten ways.


Mary Doyle Brodien’s Top 10 Ways You Know You are a Magician’s Wife

You know you are a magician’s wife when:

10). There is a magic museum in your home.

9). Your ceilings are decorated with playing cards.

8). You act surprised when you see the same trick for the hundredth time.

7). You are shopping and notice clothes that would look good on stage.

6). You discuss eyeliner and face powders for reducing shine with groups of men.

5). Everyone in your household, including the family dog, is part of the act.

4). A romantic dinner out includes disappearing salt shakers and card tricks for the wait staff.

3). You’re not opposed to your husband coming at you with swords.

2). You look at a box and wonder if you could fit in it.

And the number one way you know you are a magician’s wife –

It’s normal for your husband to tie you up, stuff you into a cloth bag, and lock you in a crate.


I wrote Navigating Alzheimer’s and The Alzheimer’s Spouse for those of you dealing with loved ones with dementia. In these books, I share my stories and concrete guidance to help you on your journey.

Happy Anniversary to Us Friday, Oct 11 2013 


My husband and I are celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary. At least half of our years together have included Alzheimer’s disease. In spite of the illness, it’s been a good marriage. Marshall encouraged me to come out of my shell, and I’ve encouraged him to come home. Our dance has been gentle, creative, loving, and supportive. It is rich in fun, family, and friends.

The two things that attracted me to Marshall was his kindness towards my children and his sense of humor. Those characteristics have continued and have carried us through some of the tougher times that naturally occur in life.

When Marshall was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, my heart sank. I knew the road ahead would be challenging. But surprisingly, in many ways our marriage is better because of it. Although Marshall knows he has the disease, he is unaware of the extent of his disability. I however, fully appreciate every moment together.

Alzheimer’s has been a ticket to a free ride for him. During the limbo years prior to a diagnosis but when Alzheimer’s was popping up as the first signs of forgetfulness, confusion, repetition, and odd, unusual, and sometimes dangerous behavior, he appeared as uncaring and uninterested in me. Once I learned that he wasn’t deliberately treating me insensitively, I began to let all of that go. I quickly forgive and forget.

I also appreciate every little hug, smile, and “I love you” so much more. I’m acutely aware that there will be a point when those gifts will cease and he will not know who I am.

It’s difficult for anyone not with Marshall on a daily basis to understand how he is really doing. The disease’s progression has been exceptionally slow considering how long he has had it. This is due to good medicine, good doctors, and good home care. I’ve made a conscious effort to keep him engaged and living with a purpose, get him up and out every day, and remind him how important he is to me.

Marshall looks strong and healthy and still dazzles anyone he encounters with a little story about “the good old days” or a bit of magic. His charm and charisma overshadows the fact that he cannot follow a conversation and understands little about basic daily activities.

People often remark that they are surprised when Marshall does remembers something, as if once diagnosed a switch completely turned off his brain. Rather, Alzheimer’s is more like a light fixture with frayed wiring. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they flicker. Periodically bulbs burn out and cannot be replaced.

I’m fine most of the time, until I stop and think about what is happening. As the lights continue to dim, they perpetuate a state of mourning in me. I’m deeply saddened as little by little I say good-bye to another part of our marriage. It’s painful to reflect and remember when, or worse, to project and fear what is to come.

So instead, I just keep going, just keep doing the next right thing as my brother John reminds me to do. I’m enjoying the moment. And this moment is a celebration of the blessing of our eighteen loving years together.

©2013, Mary K. Doyle

Love and Marriage Monday, Jun 3 2013 

My husband, Marshall, tells me he loves me all day, every day. When said with sincerity, those three words are intoxicating. A woman will do anything for a husband who showers her with them.

Marriage has its challenges. No doubt, there will be disagreements, worries, and disappointments in every marriage. But when two people who love, respect, and care for each other align with their goals and work together smoothly, there isn’t anything like it. And that love part is the magic ingredient. Who doesn’t want to love and be loved?

My son-in-law, Steve, and I had an interesting conversation about young girls’ dreams. He was surprised to learn how young we are when we begin to think of marriage and babies. He said it is the furthest thing from the thought-process of young boys.

It is true. Girls dream of being loved and having a family before we even attend school. The ultimate fantasy is to be married to a man who cherishes us.

I feel very blessed to have my little girl dream-come-true.  Everything seems possible when you have that kind of love.

©2013, Mary K. Doyle

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