Marcia Nicodemus Alley never let a phone call go to voicemail. She never left the house without earrings and lipstick—even during the pandemic, when she wore lipstick under her mask, because standards are standards. She started every phone call with, “Are you sitting down?” and ended every visit with, “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

She died on March 6, 2026, at the age of 81, in Lakeland, Florida, the town she had made immeasurably better simply by living in it.

Born on February 26, 1945, in Tampa, Florida, Marcia grew up in Lakeland on Mississippi Avenue. Her father, William Clair Nicodemus, was a jeweler, a true artist who designed and handcrafted fine jewelry. Her mother, Thelma Frances Marsh Nicodemus, was a brilliant seamstress and cook who never met a stranger. Marcia inherited it all: the artistry, the hospitality, and the refusal to let anyone feel like an outsider.

At twelve, she met a fourteen-year-old preacher’s kid named Paul F. Alley at First United Methodist Church while playing games in the fellowship center. They married in 1965 and stayed married for fifty-six years. While Paul rose to become the Undersheriff of Polk County—the man people called when they were in trouble—Marcia was the one they called when they were sick, lonely, or just in need of care. Paul and Marcia were individually remarkable, but together they were a force.

They kissed in front of their children, hosted a massive annual dinner that brought the entire neighborhood to one table, and spent every Saturday night for more than twenty-five years at the church, hanging flags, decorating the altar, and cutting communion bread for the 9:30 contemporary service they helped found. Paul preceded her in death, and one imagines he has already organized things on the other side, though she has undoubtedly already begun rearranging them.

When Marcia was only three years old, she received a doctor’s kit and immediately decided she’d be a nurse. She went straight from high school to nursing school and spent most of her career as a nurse at the Watson Clinic, working for Dr. Albert King and Dr. Wallace Coyner.

Her faith was not decorative. She once said, “I was born into the church and I’ll go out through that church,” and she meant it literally. But Marcia’s Christianity was less about scripture and more about showing up. When she learned that women in a Tanzanian village needed sewing machines to start businesses, Marcia organized the collection and shipment of four hundred of them. When Ivelisse De La Fe, a young college student from Cuba with no family in the States, moved to Lakeland to attend Florida Southern College, Marcia rallied a crew and filled Ivelisse’s new place with furnishings, personal touches and all the warmth of home. When a young couple in the congregation wanted to get married but couldn’t afford a reception, Marcia threw one and hand-addressed every invitation. When she got wind that members of the local gay community were turned away from other churches, Marcia picked up the phone and said, “Come to my church and sit with me.” That was her theology in practice: unconditional love.

She decorated the house for every season. She set what her family called “the most beautiful table in the land” (think colorful Fiestaware, pressed linen napkins, brass candle holders, and a centerpiece so lavish you couldn’t see the person sitting across from you, but you wouldn’t dare touch it), and threw themed dinner parties for no occasion at all. There was always an overflowing snack basket filled with Rice Krispie Treats, Fig Newtons, Oreos, blueberry Belvitas, granola bars, and peanut butter crackers for anyone who walked through the door. She fed every bird, every stray cat, every neighborhood dog because no living thing that came to Marcia’s door left hungry. She remembered friends’ surgeries, graduations, bar mitzvahs, confirmations, and years in remission. Always the first one to call on your birthday, Marcia sang “Happy Birthday” with such performance-level passion you’d hang up feeling like a star. She never reminded anyone of miles she’d driven, cookies she’d baked, or money she’d donated.

Her hugs were genuine, constricting, and long enough to take the wind out of you. Her wit was precise—real comic timing that could level a room. As a grandmother to Cole, Reese, and Owen—the great loves of her life—she was legendary for her “anything goes” policy and once gave her three-year-old grandson a stapler. When his mother protested, Marcia said, “Oh, Cole just loves office supplies!” She assured her kids that the grandchildren could “burn the house down” as long as they were having fun.

She adored her two children, Paulie and Lindsey, fiercely, and if you asked her, she’d tell you she loved their spouses, Amy and Lee, even more. She claimed every one of her children’s friends as her own. Her daughter, a performer, shared the screen with her in three seasons of a web series called On the Patio and viewers quickly realized Marcia was the real star. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. Of course, when Lindsey embarrassed her with stories onstage in her one-woman show, Marcia could be heard in the lobby afterward telling anyone who’d listen, with magnificent resignation, “I tried! I tried, and I failed!”

In sadness or happiness, Marcia advised the same: Sit a while with someone you love, preferably over a Diet Coke; set a beautiful table, even on a Tuesday; and leave the porch light on for whoever might need that welcome sign. So we’ll keep the guest beds made to precision with mitered corners, the snack basket full, and the thank-you notes written (promptly), just the way she taught us. And for now, we’ll imagine her picking up the phone with a smile and saying, “I was just sitting here waiting for you to call.”

Marcia is survived by her son, Paul F. Alley Jr. (Amy), and grandsons, Cole and Reese of Lakeland; her daughter, Lindsey Alley Turvey (Lee), and grandson, Owen of Princeton, NJ; her sister, Vicki Moulden (Herman); her cousin, Susan Marsh Willis (Dr. Waite Willis); and cousin, Jim Marsh (Annette). She also leaves behind her sisters-in-law, Jo Alley Sumara (Jim), and Linda Alley, along with a host of nieces, nephews, friends, and admirers. She was preceded in death by her husband, Paul F. Alley Sr.; her parents, William and Thelma Nicodemus; her in-laws, Rev. Raymond and Dorothy Alley; and her siblings-in-law, Raymond Alley Jr. and Ann Lee Alley Earnshaw.

On Monday, April 13, 2026 at 9:30 a.m., a celebration of her fabulous life will be held at her beloved First United Methodist Church of Lakeland. Let’s not wear black. Marcia (who always smelled like Chanel No. 5) lived in color, and she’d want her celebration to be bright and beautiful. Statement jewelry is a must.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the Think Big for Kids Marcia Alley Nursing Scholarship. 

https://thinkbigforkids.harnessgiving.org/campaigns/20714