Widow of Pentagon officer fulfills mission to help soldiers

In many ways, Teri Maude is the same person she was 10 years ago:  Her laugh is just as infectious.  Her strong work ethic is something that still very often tires her out.  Helping soldiers is still her life’s passion.

But since Sept. 11, 2001, when her husband, Lieutenant General Tim Maude, was killed at the Pentagon, a part of her has changed.  For 33 years she had been married to her best friend, and she suddenly had to learn to live on her own.

“I miss the intimacy of our relationship: the hand-holding, the hugs, him coming up behind me and pinching me on the butt.  I miss that person I could talk to, that person whose shoulder I could cry on and tell me it’ll all be OK.”

Teri and Tim met in the fall of 1965 as freshmen at Marian College (now called Marian University) in Indianapolis.  Teri was immediately struck by Tim’s confidence and handsome appearance (“he was damn good-looking,” she says).  By winter, they were “going steady.”  Teri was an aspiring school teacher, and Tim, who was once on track to become a priest, was on the verge of flunking out of school.  By spring of 1966—when U.S. ground involvement in Vietnam had begun—instead of waiting to get kicked out of school and drafted into the Army, Tim decided to enlist.

“You did what?” was Teri’s response when he called that night to tell her the news.

Thus began Tim’s 35-year military career.

He went off to Basic Training, and after proving himself to be a natural leader, he was chosen for Officer Candidate School.  Before being deployed to Vietnam in the spring of 1967, he was commissioned as second lieutenant in the Adjutant General's Corps.  At that point, Teri says, he was the youngest officer on active duty in any branch of any service.

“Tim never saw himself as being smart because, in his mind, people that were smart read books all the time and studied, and he didn’t.” Teri says.“But he had this ability to grasp the big picture … He was unbelievably smart. Even though he never saw it in himself, everyone else saw it in him.”

A month before Tim left for Vietnam—a year after they started dating—Tim and Teri were engaged. Their courtship continued by way of snail mail (Teri says Tim wrote every day, and she every other).  Both devout Catholics, they were also faithful in praying together.

“We had a prayer book, and because of the time difference, he would say certain prayers in the morning and I would say them right before I went to bed … We grew spiritually. And we would write each other about our thoughts of the day and that we were still praying together.  I remember my mom saying, ‘If it’ll last on paper, it’ll last through anything.’ There’s a lot of value to that. We shared things with each other on paper in a way that had more permanence.”

When Tim arrived back in the U.S., he and Teri got married.  Though he was a decorated war veteran now (he was awarded the Bronze Star), the fresh-faced Army officer was still only 20 years old and could not even order a drink on his honeymoon.

“I used to joke that I was cradle-robbing,” laughed Teri, who was 8 months older than her husband.

The next 33 years, Teri says, were full of adventures.  They raised two daughters and traveled wherever Tim was stationed: Indiana, California, Germany, Kansas, South Korea, Pennsylvania, Washington, D.C.  Tim climbed the ranks of the personnel department of the Army and eventually became a three-star general as well as the deputy chief of staff for Personnel.  He also found his passion for helping soldiers.  In 1995, Tim oversaw the family support for soldiers sent to Bosnia.  He was also passionate about soldiers in the Green to Gold Program (designed to help enlisted soldiers receive a bachelor’s degree), and fought to make sure they and their families had proper medical and commissary privileges throughout their enrollment.

“Tim would say, 'If a soldier is there in a foxhole worried about his wife and kids, then he's not there focused on taking care of his buddy’… He believed that soldiering and family issues were one and the same."

Her husband’s love of soldiers and their families became Teri’s passion as well.  Rare for an Army wife—especially an officer’s wife—Teri worked while also taking care of her two girls.  She started off teaching elementary school, then junior high, at various Army bases wherever the need was greatest.  She later taught adult education classes for the Army, running a child- and spouse-abuse prevention program up until 2001.

On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, Teri was in her hotel room in San Diego, Calif., at a yearly conference where she was scheduled to do a presentation on domestic violence prevention.  She woke up early and turned on the television and saw the North Tower of the World Trade Center burning.  A few minutes later, a second plane crashed into the South Tower.

“I sank to the edge of my bed, eyes glued to the TV… I saw an inset down in the lower right hand corner of the Pentagon burning. I thought, ‘Oh my God.’ Then the phone rang.”

It was Teri’s boss in Washington, D.C., calling to tell her the plane had slammed right into the Army personnel offices where Tim worked.  He also asked if she had heard from Tim.  She said no. He would be the highest-ranking officer killed in the attack.

“I knew that if Tim was able to get to a phone, he would have called.”

At that point, Teri says, the “Mrs. Maude persona” took over.  Mrs. Maude had no time for tears or sadness.  Mrs. Maude had to contact family and friends and find a way to get back to D.C. in order to take care of them.  Hours later, she received a phone call from the then-Vice Chief of Army Staff Gen. Pat Keane, who asked what he could do to help.

“I said, ‘Sir, you can get me the hell out of here.’ He said, ‘Teri, the only plane that’s flying right now is the president’s plane.’  And I said, ‘Sir, I’m not picky.’”

Mrs. Maude flew home the next morning on a U.S. Navy plane.  Once home, she immediately began comforting grieving mourners and planning for the future not just for her herself and her family, but also for the soldiers Tim had been helping.

“When I got back from San Diego, there were already several flower arrangements at the house.  I told my daughters: ‘No, we’re not turning this place into a funeral home. We’ve got to do something in lieu of flowers.’”  They knew they wanted to continue Tim’s work of taking care of soldiers.  They decided to set up a scholarship fund in Tim’s name, specifically for Green to Gold soldiers.

In its first year, the Maude Foundation  gave away one $1,000 grant to a soldier in the Green to Gold Program.  Ten years later, the foundation gives away eight annual scholarships,  and provides a twice-yearly leadership lecture series open to students taking military courses in Fort Jackson, S.C.

[ Donate: You can help fund scholarships by giving to the Maude Foundation ]

Tim’s headstone at Arlington Cemetery reads:

“He took care of soldiers.”  Teri hopes that through the Maude Foundation, Tim can continue to do so.

It wasn’t until a couple of years after Tim’s death that the Mrs. Maude persona went away and Teri was able to grieve.  In 2001, Tim had been only  two years away from retiring from the Army, and the couple had planned to move to Beaufort, S. C.  Teri decided she would continue with that plan, so she bought a plot of land, built a house from the ground up, and moved there herself.  Her new home was ready on Sept. 11, 2003—a stipulation to the builders because she did not want to spend another Sept. 11 at a hotel.  In the new home she made for herself, Teri watched Tim’s funeral on video for the first time.

“I spent the next two or three days wallowing.  I let everything catch up. … I let all of those feelings come back and I didn’t try to tame them or put them away. It was my first uninterrupted long good cry.”

Teri realized it was the first time she was completely on her own.

“The thing that frightened me the most after Tim died was that, for the first time in my life, I was totally 100% responsible for the decisions that I made. I went from living with my parents to marrying Tim.   I was 53 years old, and that scared the hell out of me … But I amazed myself. And I don’t mean that to sound egotistical, but 10 years ago, I never thought I would be as comfortable and confident as I have become.”

Along with public speaking engagements and involvement in several community organizations, Teri continues to serve as secretary of the Maude Foundation.  She told her daughters that by Sept. 11, 2011, she would cut back on her work for the foundation.  But her daughters called her bluff: “Mom, you’re not going to give this up; you like soldiers too much.”

[ Photos: Images of the Pentagon Memorial ]


Teri plans to spend the tenth anniversary participating in Beaufort’s remembrance ceremony.  But she says she doesn’t need a date or a special ceremony to remember the love she and Tim had.

“He’s around me everywhere… We grew up together, raised two beautiful daughters together, had adventures around the world together.  There’s not much in my life that I look at, touch, or reflect on that he’s not involved in, even 10 years down the road.”

While Tim was alive, they made a point to talk every single day as much as they could: She’d call him several times on the phone at work, he’d come home and they’d talk over dinner, and then after dinner they’d sit out on the porch and talk some more. Even though their conversations are much more one-sided now, Teri still has conversations with Tim.

“I know he’s proud of me; I know he’s proud of the foundation, and the things we’ve done for soldiers. I know he’s damn proud of that. I know he’s proud of who I’ve become. I think sometimes he’s just as amazed as I am.”

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