Post- Service Remembrance: Sarah Matthews-Grieco

Thinking of Anne Parker, by Sara Matthews of the dog bite.

I am writing this on the 11:38 train from Montevarchi to Florence. I had hoped to have Anne come visit during this month of June. Darn!

Mopsy and I will thus drink a toast to Anne on Saturday the 21^st. We will be present with you all in spirit, with shared memories of summer evenings catching fireflies with our cousins while the grow-ups sat in the gloaming, sharing the mysterious ritual of a well-earned drinnik (sic).

There is a memory I would like to share with you all, something that came to mind this morning, when the neighbors were teasing Allen about his neglected tomato plants.

Annie Parker had a vegetable garden too. A large one. The entire family was on weeding and watering duty all summer long, but there was always a moment in those hot and humid months when the garden totally escaped control. There were all of a sudden too many plants to tend, and far more vegetables than could be eaten or preserved or even given away. For a few weeks every year the kitchen garden became a kind of purgatory, where children – who would much rather be swimming – toiled amongst the tomatoes, wrestled with weeds and swatted bugs.

One year in Spring – moved by pragmatism, pity or despair – Peter said that he had decided to curb Anne’s  urge to grow and nourish such demanding plants. She already had a houseful of children to feed and water, murmurs of rebellion would once again spread amongst the laboring masses, and even chain gangs get to quit at twilight. So Peter set up a perimeter string to delimit the acreage of the annual cultivation project, and thereby – hopefully - diminish the labor demanded by the field of bounty.

I never heard the end of this story. Did it work? Please let me know as this might be a good tactic to try in Tuscany.

In sum, small things like tomato talk make me think of Anne.  There is a poetic logic to the generosity of spirit such as hers. She loved growing things, people and animals and plants. Tons of tomatoes are also tons of love.

Thank you Anne for the honeycomb of gifts you so gently and generously shared with all who crossed your threshold, and above all with the little lost girls from the Matthews family, whose Never-Never land was there in the yellow house with all of you, in the years when growing up was not easy.