Words about Anne:
Anne was one of the most tolerant and
inventive people I have ever known. When we were all small and out of school
for the summer Anne would have to find ways to entertain us. Seven little
people. Hester and Adam were really too small to count but they were there.
Here are some of the activities that won't be in Good Housekeeping.
One
damp, gritty morning Anne put Dan, Guy, Rhys, Caitlin and me into the station
wagon and drove us "miles" away. She gave us a map, pointed to a spot
on it and said "We are here now and the house is there. You need to figure
out how to walk home and I will see you later." Like a little platoon out
on patrol we nodded our heads and watched as she drove off leaving us in some
neighborhood in the shadow of the Blue Hills. We got home. I don't remember the
actual trek. I do remember the feeling of accomplishment and a lingering
feeling of how could you do this to us?
Then
of course there was the "Float down the Charles". Same cast of
characters. Anne procured inner tubes and drove us to the upper reaches of the
Charles. At an idyllic, grassy put-in point we climbed into our tubes and set
off in the nearly imperceptible current. Anne drove off, again. It was pretty.
Then we drifted into the lower section and were joined by first a few and then
many little turds floating along with us to the Sea. Anne of course was aghast
at the state of the river. She had no idea at the level of pollution. She said
perhaps if we hadn't actually touched anything we would be fine. She suggested
we not tell anyone what we saw perhaps with an eye out for a Social Service
visit about child endangerment. I think Guy was the only one who got a skin
disease. Anne insisted for years afterwards that we had the omnipresent
babysitter, Bill Gucker, with us always and we were not abandoned by the side
of the road or dumped into the Charles. Given seven little people with the
unending summer stretched out before me I am sure I would have done the same -
babysitter or not.
At
the other end of my long association with Anne, I was sitting in her bedroom armchair
reading at about 6:30 while she slept. She was not supposed to be alone at this
point. Anne opened her eyes, looked intently at me and asked,
"Nicholas,
is there frivolity downstairs?"
"Yes"
"Is
there drinking?"
"I
believe there is."
"Then
I would like a Martini and people up here." Five minutes later there was a
martini provided and many people in her bedroom for one of the last bittersweet
cocktail parties. As usual she was entertaining people and making them feel
very welcome.
Anne
was not my real mother but I often wish she was. I would have liked to inherit
her grace, tolerance and dry sense of humor. I will miss her very much.
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