Beauty’s only skin deep.” We have heard it a thousand times. Mary Bryant’s beauty, seemingly apparent from her photographs, lies within. She is a young woman on a mission, charged with hope and glamour and tinged with unapparent sadness. As journalists, we are committed to remain neutral for an interview. We are not supposed to be too involved within the details of the story. We are scheduled to act as a vehicle for the reader, to maintain objectivity in the grand tradition of Orwell. Mary Bryant’s “heart” tested this writer’s objective envelope to the edge.

In the fall of 1999, the ABCG asked me to look into Diane Erickson’s story. She was the “cover girl” for Self magazine’s premiere issue. Aside from her high-profile modeling career, she was an award-winning artist, a photographer and cabaret singer. Her life’s joy was her four-year-old daughter, Helena. After the diagnosis of her breast cancer, she opted to disclose the story of her struggle to Self.

“She took pictures of herself and handed her camera to those around her in order to document each step as a way to help herself and others better understand this arduous trek – and fear it less,” was a quote from their January, 1999 issue, part one of “Diane’s Diary.” This diary and 12-part series remains a compelling must-read.

In an attempt to reach Diane, I contacted Self – albeit two weeks too late. Breast cancer had already taken her. The magazine’s support group graciously put me in touch with her brother, John. This kind man requested, during his bereavement, that I connect with Diane’s close friend, Mary Bryant, “She’d have wanted it that way,” I believe is what he said.

Go to a doctor! “TODAY, MARY,TODAY,” was the not so subtle advice Diane conveyed to her when informed that Mary also had discovered a lump in her breast.

Both were hard working fashion models with the prestigious Ford modeling agency in New York. Two weeks after Diane’s mastectomy, Mary underwent her own mastectomy. The pathologist had discovered malignancies in every one of the eight sites checked for cancer. I am haunted by the eerie feeling, a sneaking suspicion of Divine Intervention.

Mary explained in her matter of fact manner, “I must have had it three years, from the size of the tumor.”

She is exuberant and vivacious. It is impossible form her demeanor to guess what she has or is going through. She laughs easily and her joy is infectious. Curiously, she appears in good health and is a marathon runner, a person of endurance. Two weeks after surgery, she was, she recalls, “back on Seventh (Fashion) Avenue, where image is not only important, it’s everything.”

With a lilting and strangely cheerful voice, she continues, “In the big picture, I don’t want to be seen as “The Breast Cancer Survivor.” I’d rather be seen as the person who had to learn how to triumph over struggles.” Further focusing, she goes on; “Everyone of us deals with some kind of struggle.”

Mary grew up in Cleveland and began modeling at age 14. She is also a successful motivational speaker for hire, an adjunct to her fashion career. In a profession that is often not characterized by healthy images (the “waif” look has become the subject of some debate), Mary targets real health issues, fashion industry standards and her very close call with breast cancer. Despite the battle, she maintains an upbeat persona and helps others to do so.

“I talk about the value of life, going after your dreams...not letting the fear of failure get in the way. Feeling not perfect but learning how to project an image of perfection. That was the trick of my success in modeling.”

When questioned about “making it” in the fashion industry, she reflects, “Survival meant learning how to project the image of perfection.” She reiterates, “That’s what I was later able to use going through cancer.”

“Separating fear from knowledge is empowering,” and my skin feels a chill. These words echo Peggy Fleming’s words.

“You have to work with the hand you’re dealt – too many people walk around griping about the bad card they were dealt. It’s all in your perspective.” Unemotionally, she declares, “Surviving breast cancer is just one card.”

“But isn’t that your biggest struggle?” I asked.

There’s a different kind of strength to her next statement, as she reflects on her 44-year-old brother Don’s fate. He’s undergone 80 operations over a 27 year span.

“That’s the hand Don was dealt. He’s been paralyzed from the neck down since he was 17. He slipped and fell in the house. When he fell, he had a cut on his lip, nothing else – they couldn’t figure out where the injury occurred. They knew he would never walk because they didn’t know what to fix.”

“And astronomical medical bills. And no diagnosis. He has always had a positive accepting attitude and that’s what gave me courage to look at what I had to face, with acceptance and with a positive outlook. His spirit and his courage are unbelievable - where the rest of your life is no longer your choice: where other people take you, what other people do for you. He’s totally dependent.”

(Don once “ran” the New York City Marathon using only his neck muscles and a technologically advanced wheelchair to motivate him forward.}

Mary is producing a film about her brother’s life called “Don’s Story.” She’s appealing for funds to wrap up the post-production with an infusion of capital.

“I’d like to put it on the air and travel with the film, talking to groups, helping them, using his spirit as a reminder that we are in charge of how we view our challenges. What I went through is nothing compared to what he went through. He’s up to 80 surgeries and now they want to perform another one – there’s more fluid on his brain.”

Her voice is now transcendent, “I wanted to catch his spirit on film so that when he’s no longer here, his existence will continue to live on.”

Ms. Bryant wonders out loud about America’s cultural focus – she sees it as a dilemma – our society’s constant pressure to “look good.” There is a cost, the possible down side to our health.

The conversation drifts back to Diane, “We were bosom buddies,” she explains quixotically. The mood changes in her eyes, “I miss her every day. I talk to her. She’ll be in my heart forever.”

Remembering Diane’s daughter, her voice turns solemn for the first time, “I also want to do something for young children who lose their mothers to breast cancer.

As the Guide goes to press, I speak with Mary again. She has found another lump, the first since her surgery. The doctors aren’t worried. She is not so sure.

Visit Mary’s Web site at: www.mary-bryant.com