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[eviesessays]

Thank you for keeping Evie's story alive.

Evelyn Anne Joss (November 13th, 1935 - March 16th, 2024) lived a tremendous life. Here, in 43 short essays, Evie masterfully offers her narrative of reflection, gratitude, endurance, and triumph. May we honor her story, heed her lessons, and cherish the marvelous woman that she was.

[eviesessays]

List of Stories

Click on a title to view Evie's response!

1. At what times in your life were you the happiest, and why?

2. Who are the funniest people in your family?

3. What is one of your favorite trips that you've taken? What made it great?

4. What is one of the bravest things you've ever done, and what was the outcome?

5. How did you decide when to have children?

6. Have you ever won anything?

7. Who are the best cooks in your family?

8. Describe one of your most memorable birthdays.

9. What is some of the best advice your mother ever gave you?

10. What is your idea of perfect happiness?

11. Are you more like your father or your mother? In what ways?

12. What do you consider one of your greatest achievements in life?

13. Tell me about one of the best days you can remember.

14. Have you ever given or been the recipient of a random act of kindness?

15. What is it like to watch your own children become parents?

16. Who was your first friend? How have your friendships enriched your life?

17. How do you like to decorate the space you’re in?

18. What are some of your special talents?

19. What is one of the most selfless things you have done in life?

20. How did you choose your children's names?

21. What advice do you wish you had taken from your parents?

22. What have been some of your life's greatest surprises?

23. Are you the same person you were as an adolescent, or very different?

24. What is one of your favorite children's stories?

25. What are some of your family traditions?

26. What advice would you give your great grandchildren?

27. What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

28. What are some choices you made about how to raise [Kalote]?

29. What did you learn from your parents?

30. Who is the wisest person you've known? What have you learned from them?

31. Who inspires you?

32. What is one of your earliest childhood memories?

33. What is your favorite joke?

34. If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

35. What are your favorite memories of each of your children growing up?

36. What do you think is the meaning of life?

37. What is your best advice when it comes to raising children?

38. What is the farthest you have ever traveled?

39. How has your life turned out differently than you imagined it would?

40. What simple pleasures of life do you truly enjoy?

41. What stories have you been told about yourself as a baby?

42. How is life different today compared to when you were a child?

43. If you could thank anyone, who would you thank and why?

[eviesessays]

43. If you could thank anyone, who would you thank and why?

Possibly the first words we were taught as babies were, “please” and “thank you”.   From the earliest age and for the simplest gift we gave thanks.  It is a good lesson and a habit that is not forgotten and seldom abandoned with age.   

We never can know what might have been but I am very thankful that my grandparents had the courage to leave their homelands and venture to unknown places in Canada. Stephan and Eva Kolody elected to go thousands of miles to where they had no home, no family, no friends and did not speak the language. That takes courage beyond description for which I am thankful.  Both my maternal and paternal grandparents did just that.  My paternal grandparents left Galacia to be potato farmers in Selkirk, Manitoba in 1909.  Their homeland was divided and at war and they dreamed of being able to work in peace and earn a living in return.  They came to Canada with no money, little education and a great hope for a new life free from political oppression.  The Bolsheviks were running rampant through their motherland.  

I know little of my maternal grandparents, Peter and Anna Schreyer.  My mother was 7 when her father died and 9 years old when her mother died.  My aunt Caroline Sitter, my mother’s oldest sister was married before my mother was born and had children older than  my mother. My grandfather Schreyer was a successful wheat farmer and in very few years was growing enough wheat in Ladywood, Manitoba, to repay the Canadian government for his land grant. They were hard working people and I am grateful they had the courage that allowed me to be born a Canadian.

If it were possible to go back in time I would certainly thank all the neighbors we ever had from my earliest days.  World War II was raging and some things were scarce.  Neighbors shared their children’s outgrown clothing, shoes, and food ration stamps.  Everyone seemed to care for their neighbor and we were no exception.  Since I have had a family of my own my experience has been the same with the exception of one neighbor I had in Warner.  He was unfortunately, home    quite mentally ill and was moved to family in Maine.  When we lived in Alaska and Heather and Jaylyn were toddlers, the teachers who lived in the apartment above us would bring home interesting things for them to see.  They once brought a gerbil that got loose i the apartment and we spent several hours trying to trap it in one room.  I was happy we succeeded before nightfall.  My neighbors in Washington became lifelong friends.  My dear friend, Rose is now gone but Jack is surprisingly spry at 90. I cannot even remember the names of the neighbors with whom I car pooled when Peter was in kindergarden.  I had a Triumph Spitfire which had one passenger seat in front and a ledge just large enough for three small bottoms in the back.  It was adequate except that I drove

on, “show and tell,” day and one little boy always had a new airplane to show.  The planes usually had a wing span the width of my car.  Somehow we managed.  I thank all those Moms for their patience.

I have thanked my primary care physician who insisted that I get the nodes on my left clavicle biopsied as soon as possible. The surgeon opined that this was probably, “cat scratch fever” and he prescribed an oral antibiotic. After I finished the antibiotic with no change in the nodes, I insisted they be biopsied.  I was diagnosed with Non Hodgkins Lymphoma.  I chose to be treated at Dana Farber Cancer institute in Boston after three treatment failures here in Concord.  I am very thankful for my primary care physician who insisted those nodes needed to be biopsied,  I have been cancer free for fifteen years.

I am most thankful for my current neighbors.  Since I am the current neighborhood octogenarian, they all seem to look out for me.  They are all exceptionally kind and generous.  During Covid confinement they shopped for me and drove me to appointments.  They are wonderful people and I am thankful to be so blessed.  

I am thankful for my Domino’s group.  We meet every two weeks for a few hours of conversation, laughter and even a good Domino’s game or two.

I will end this story by recognizing how wonderful my grandchildren are.  Without exception they are kind,  generous and thoughtful human beings.  I am grateful for them and thankful that I am so blessed.  These days I am beyond thankful and delighted that I am blessed with my new wee, sweet darlings Joan Clementine, Everett Floyd, Laura Winter,  Harriet Murphy and a coming February arrival.  My life has had many blessings and for all that I am thankful.

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42. How is life different today compared to when you were a child?

How is life different than when I was a child?  Let me try to count the ways.  It seems to me that everything has changed and mostly for the better.  Everything is improved and in some cases abandoned and all for good reason.  The first days of life today have little similarity to those eighty years ago.  Babies now stay in hospital with their mother for 1 day after the birth as opposed to the week or more at my time of birth.  Diapers are now used once and disposed of.  They close with adhesive strips eliminating the need for safety pins.  The binders we tightly wrapped around babies abdomens have now gone the way of the dodo bird.  I don’t know what the conventional wisdom was that supported this ritual but babies today thrive just fine without it.

Early childhood has been made safer by vaccines and treatments.  The summer months of my childhood were spent in morbid fear of contracting polio for which there was no vaccine until Dr. Salk’s discovery in 1955.  Fears of other communicable diseases such as measles, mumps, chicken pox

and whooping cough were nearing elimination by vaccines.  One enormous difference in mortality in school children of my youth was that we were not being shot with high powered guns as we sat in school.  We did not even have drills to prepare for that sort of barbarianism.  We also did not have air raid drills as children in England knew all too well.  Canada was not being bombed by any foreign enemy.  We were growing victory gardens and many foods were rationed but we were relatively safe.  

Often on Saturday afternoon my mother sent us off to the movies with 15 cents each.  Prior to the movie there was always a news reel with information on the war.  Since no TV was available at that time, the movie theater was a main source of what was happening in Europe.  We spent many a Saturday afternoon in this manner and our mother had no concern for our safety.  How different than today….

Our neighbor had a car that required  a crank that was inserted into the front of the car to get it started.  The crank was turned until the engine coughed and the car shook to a start.  It seemed to me that cars changed rapidly.  The crank was suddenly gone, the clutch became optional and now cars are driving themselves.  Cars brake to avoid collision and are also available in any color imaginable. When I was young the choices in car color was black or dark blue.  Citizens are now encouraged to drive electric cars to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels.  Electric charging stations are cropping up everywhere and gas stations are going the way of the dodo bird.

Our kitchens require far less time and attention.  Microwave ovens can cook or warm food in little time.  The dishwasher washes our dishes.  My mother cooked and baked with a wood stove.  I cannot imagine keeping an even temperature in an oven of a wood burning stove.  Our ice box required a large block of ice that fit exactly into a space that opened to the outdoors. I think we got our first electric refrigerator when I was about ten years old.  Now our refrigerators can dispense water and ice cubes without even opening the door.  

One of my chores as a child was mowing the lawn. Most of the backyard was occupied by the victory garden.  The front and sides of the house were  mowed with a mower whose blades were propelled by manually pushing the mower.  I was more than glad to see the end of that chore and the near absence of mowers pushed by brute force.

Household chores have benefited by progress.  Windows now tilt in and both sides washed from inside the house.  The vacuum cleaner takes the dust out of the carpet which eliminates hanging it on a line outdoors and beating it with a rug beater.  The large sloppy wet mop has given way to the smaller, neater, “Swiffer”.  Washing machines have eliminated most of the horror of laundry day.  Clothes dryers have eliminated the need to hang clothes piece by piece, on the clothes line and reverse the process an hour or so later. 

But probably the most significant change I see from my childhood to today is in social norms.  I don’t think there was necessarily any good purpose to all the sexual taboos of my day.  Considering premarital sex as sinful or disgraceful, served no useful purpose.  It caused very young people to marry before they completed their education or before they had the capacity to support a family.  This is a conundrum for me as I also believe promiscuity at any age is degrading and  robs children of their youth.  Sexually transmitted diseases have been curbed by advances in Medicine.  The other major disadvantage to this social change is the concern that fewer people are marrying and significantly fewer women are choosing to have children.   This may prove to be a necessary adjustment in nature and I can only hope it turns out well for I wont be here to bear witness.

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41. What stories have you been told about yourself as a baby?

I loved my Dad and never had any doubt the feeling was mutual. It was he who told me stories of my early days.  I also remember from my early days wanting to be liked the most and the best.  I loved my brothers, Clifford and Carl, but I did want to be firmly established as the apple of my father’s eye.  He tells the story of coming home from work on his bicycle and the boys met him at the front gate.  He put them both on the crossbar and gave them a ride to the garage in the backyard.  I was there and was crushed that they got a ride and I didn’t.  For a long while I kept a   the front gate when his arrival time neared.

My Dad tells stories when I was about two years old.  I would sit on his lap facing him and hold his ears saying,”gib up, gib up. Yay down, yay down, yay down.  My Dad said this went on until his ears burned.  I never tired of this game.  

I can actually remember my mother frequently pleading with me to walk nicely and to stop running. I can remember trying to be compliant but quickly and easily forgetting the plea.  I can remember the new plaid skirt I was wearing when the caution came too late. I was running and fell tearing holes in the knees of my stockings. My new skirt was spared but i did not escape the disciplining hand of my mother.  There were many similar episode and I cannot help but wonder if it was some foreboding of things to come.  In my 70’s I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease and my stability on foot is again pretty unstable.  These days I am very cautious so I feel those early warnings and cautions are not totally lost.

I remember my mother’s uncle, Sam coming to visit us.  He took us on nature walks near our home he identified things and plants by both their English and German names.  When my Dad came home one day after one of our nature walks, we greeted him declaring that we now could speak German. To demonstrate our newfound knowledge we proudly said, “Duck, svim in crick”.  We thought uncle Sam’s highly accented English was German.  What he said to us in German escaped us completely.  We loved our uncle Sam. He was a rotund man with a huge smile, happy disposition and a large handle bar mustache, 

I don’t know how old I was when Carl fell in some construction debris and opened a large gash in his left calf.  I helped him indoors and reported to my mother that I thought his guts were falling were falling out through his leg.  My mother did not pause or look away from what occupied her.  She hoped he would learn a lesson.  I was left to care for Carl. I do not remember cleaning the wound but I did bandage his leg and how he escaped a serious infection escapes me. 

We did not have colorful swing sets or jungle gyms in our back yards but the neighbors did have a 1929 Ford in their garage that I never remember being out of the garage. It proved a great mysterious place to play for the boys in the neighborhood.  They would go into the car and disappear and then come marching into the garage.  I was determined to find the answer to this magic trick.  As I snuck behind one boy I held the side of the door as he climbed in.  Then he slammed the door and the only part of me in that car was my finger tips.  I remember my hand being freed and my mitt dripping blood.  My ring and little finger were split open.  My brothers, given the price I had paid for my curiosity decided to tell me how the car trick worked.  There was no magic involved.  The floor boards of the car were totally rotted out as was a hole in the garage wall next to the car.  I had no interest in that car after that day.  

My mother tells the story of when we still lived on Queen Street.  It was a Spring day and we were all running around with our tams pulled over our eyes.  I can remember we were playing with Pat and Catherine from next door and I ran into the telephone pole and knocked myself out cold.  I have no recollection of what happened beyond that.  

I remember a red coat,hat and leggings I had when I was about three.  I remember seeing that coat in pictures and I remember going for walks with my Dad and brothers on Sundays which was his only day off from work.  We were always dressed in our Sunday best and we were usually treated to a candy or ice cream.  This was 1938 to 1940 so we were very fortunate to have nice clothes and even small sweet treats.

The one unfailing memory I have from my childhood is that of my Dad reassuring me that I was his, “little darling” and I always wanted to retain that place.

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40. What simple pleasures of life do you truly enjoy?

One of the greatest pleasures in life that I enjoyed for many years was travelling.  Now, at my advanced age I am too old, decrepit and compromised to be so adventuresome.  Changing planes in foreign airports terrifies me now.  Dealing with foreign currency was made  easier with the advent of the euro but still challenging.  Making myself understood with little command of the language spoken gave me moments of anxiety if not exasperation.  These days I have no such concerns.  My simple pleasure requires none of the aforementioned risks and is a pleasure I have enjoyed for many years and continue to enjoy.

I love gardening.  My home on Mountain Road has many trees and therefore much shade.  Gardening is a challenge.  My garden is confined to flowers.  there is inadequate sun   for growing vegetables.  I can garden for hours on my knees without worrying about falling due to my Parkinson’s.  

I bought the house on a cold January day.  A significant part of the yard was unkempt.  The previous owners said they used this section as a duping place for their used Christmas trees. The weeds and grass were adequate to hide most of the mess.  Many trees in this area were dead and Peter took them all down for me.  He cut them into twelve to fourteen inch pieces and with them I built a wall that separates the back lawn from the wooded area of the lot.  I bought a leaf shredder and began to attack the years of accumulated leaves, weeds and branches.

I have flower beds that separate the lawn from the treed area at the back and side of the lot.  The one thing I grow very successfully is moss but it is green and serves its purpose,

I have an eclectic garden where  i remember friends and family.  I have Rose of Sharon shrubs that came from Heather’s house on Carter Street.  They are prolific seeders and I have started shrubs for my neighbors and my granddaughter, Anne.  My wonderful neighbor, MaryJane gave me an aubergine clematis when my brother Carl died.  It is beautiful and climbs a trellis in front of the sun porch.  I brought two trellises with me from the Warner house and they are now covered with pink rambling roses given to me by a friend from the East Concord Garden Club to which  I had belonged.  Surrounding the base of a large oak and a maple tree is the pachysandra given to me by my elderly neighbor across the street, Mr Colby. All the forsythia was also gifts from his garden. He knew more Concord history than anyone else I knew and was glad to share it.  Once when I was out working in the garden he came over and we chatted a while.  He then said words I have quoted many times.  He said,”My Daddy once told me that if you have nothing to do, don’t go around bothering someone who does.”  He was a wonderful neighbor and I miss his sage stories and kind demeanor. 

On one of their visits from Scotland, my children’s cousin, Maurice and his wife Avril brought lily bulbs from his grandmother’s garden.  They were first planted in Warner and when my house was sold they were dug up and moved to Heather’s garden.  When Heather and John were moving to South Carolina, the lilies were dug up again and moved here. They had two good years and then were attacked by moles or voles or one of the many creatures that raise havoc with bulbs in this area.  Last year I was down to one rather sickly plant and I wait with baited breath to see if one wee shoot might appear.  

I have a red maple from Jaylyn’s yard in Harvard.  It thrives.  I have another that Will brought for my birthday  a few years ago.  It thrives.  A lavender azalea bush came with the house and is very visible from my kitchen window.  In summer the perennials will give color to the garden.  There are daisies in several places in the gardens.  The mullen pinks add vibrant color here and there.  The seeds of those were given to me more than twenty years ago my my coworker, Maggie.  This winter I am trying to winter over some fushia colored geraniums.  I hope I succeed.  The daffodils will be appearing soon along with the hyacinths and then the  tulips, not eaten will appear.  The Asian irises will come later.  My Stella Dora lilies will bloom in great profusion and remind me they need to be thinned.  

I cannot leave this subject without mentioning the garden on Wellington Street where I lived from the age of five til I went away to school at age seventeen.  We had a large vegetable garden in the back yard.  The green beans and wax beans had been   harvested and canned.  Every year when the potatoes were dug we had a potato roast.  My Dad set fire to the garden remnants and we were allowed to throw in the potatoes that were too small to be worth peeling.  The neighbor kids joined us for our annual potato roast.  We searched and found potatoes that we stabbed, added butter and salt and reveled in our annual feast.

I have no potatoes in this garden but I love gardening.  Maybe, I just love playing in the dirt.  One thing I do know is that my garden is where my heart soars and my spirit rests.

[eviesessays]

39. How has your life turned out differently than you imagined it would?

There was a time in my life when I fervently believed I would get to be a princess one day and live in a castle.  My Dad did nothing to dissuade me from this delusion.  I thought I could dance like Shirley Temple and sing, “On the good ship Lollipop”.  I was certain my hair could be trained to have ringlets that bounced when I tap danced. Nothing could have been further removed from reality.  My hair was stick straight and sat atop my head like a pile of unruly hay. My tap dancing was anything but rhythmic and certainly not gracious.  Since leaving early childhood I have been too much of a realist to have great fantasies but I know I always wanted to travel and experience other cultures.  

From a very young age I knew I wanted to be a nurse.  Actually, there were very few professions welcoming women in that era.  There was no financial possibility to be an engineer or go to law school. I had no regrets.  I always wanted to be a nurse and have never regretted that choice. My career has afforded me many opportunities and the ability to earn a Bachelor of Science degree in Nursing.  My profession allowed me to financially support myself and my children when the need arose.  I had never in my younger years thought this would be my destiny but when the need arose I was glad to meet the challenge. 

In retrospect I should have spent more time thinking about the qualities I wanted in a husband.  I can honestly say I did not give it the time it deserved.  I  wanted a husband who was well mannered, well read and well spoken.  James Wemyss Joss could pass that test.  He qualified in all areas.  He had not finished his degree having spent only a year at Georgia Tech after graduating from Sylacauga High School in Sylacauga, Alabama.  He was 16 years old at the time.  His parents had been divorced in Scotland.  Jay and his brother, Allan Dinsmore Joss moved to London with their mother,Kitty.  It was there she met John Lee Rarden, a merchant marine with a glib tongue, unrealistic dreams and an almost absent work ethic.  They were married and Kitty was pregnant.  John Lee went to sea. Kitty delivered twins, John Lee and David Lynn.  When the twins were fifteen months old the family sailed for America on an oil tanker headed to New Orleans.  They landed late at night amid a rain storm that Jay described as a bleak and despairing experience.  They were met by John Lee’s father who was called Didi who drove them home to Mount Olive,Alabama.  They all moved in with Didi and his acerbic wife, Dearie.  John Lee’s uncle Ollie and aunt Lorraine also lived in the home. This was a very far cry from the Joss family who had been in Scotland for more than 400 years and lived in some of the finest homes in Glasgow. Jay was placed in the senior class at Sylacauga High School and graduated at the age of 15.  He worked at Woolworths for a year to save money for college but that was exhausted after his first year and he joined the  Air Force.    His alcohol was already a problem for him at that time.  This was a fact I did not know until long after we were married.  I can honestly say that Jay’s drinking was the cause of our marriage failure.  The car accidents and the resulting financial disasters resulting from his alcoholism took its toll.  It was not the marriage of which I had dreamed.

 I met Philip Miller Pahl at church.  He sang in the choir and served on the vestry.  He was a Major in the Air Force and had graduated from the Naval Academy in Annapolis.  He was stationed at the Pentagon and has assured me this was his final tour of duty before he retired.  This was important because I had a great and well paid job in Washington. Heather and Jaylyn were in High School and did not want to move. Despite all that just after we were married a year Phil was transferred to Hanscom AFB in Bedford, MA. Phil went on to his assignment and I stayed behind til the end of the school year.  In July we moved into a very nice home on Wildwood Drive in Bedford.  Then I began my search for a job working days only so I could be home in the evening knowing what my children were up to.  It was most depressing to be returning to work  full time at 70% of my previous salary.  I was sitting in a pediatrician’s office at an interview when President Nixon resigned.  It seemed fitting.  Heather was crushed by the move and completed her grade 12 along with grade 11 and could not wait to return to Maryland.  There were very good times in Boston.  There are endless historical places to be visited.  Jaylyn, Robin and Peter all finished Hgh School and went off to college.   Phil retired from the Air Force and began looking for property in NH. We bought a beautiful farm in Warner, NH and moved in June 1985.  we were busy getting the house in order as Jaylyn and Merton were to be married in October and the reception was to be in a tent by the pool.  Heather and John were married in Concord and then the grandchildren began to arrive.  There was plenty to distract us from the reality that our marriage was long over.  Phil admitted to me that he had a long standing affair with a “friend” from our church in Bedford.  It would be easy to blame Phil for this betrayal but it was more like a thousand little wounds that killed the marriage long before the final blow.  to say this marriage turned out differently than I had imagined would be an understatement of untold proportion.

My grandchildren are all thriving.  I could not have planned the lives they experience.  Hillary and David will have a new Baby boy in September.  Anne and Dan have a very successful  business.  Diggs  has a lovely woman in his life. Kalote, left teaching for more financially rewarding experience in real estate.  Will has taken up the ukulele and the rest remains to be seen.  

My great grandchildren bring endless joy.  Joan Clementine at 5, is reading books to Laura.  She takes dance lessons and can now play, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” on her ukulele.  Everett Floyd is a busy little boy with many interests.  He sings beautifully and will be a good big brother.  Laura Winter is a very assertive little girl who loves being read to.  she knows all the stories and characters.  Murphy Harriet is a very wise two year old.  She misses nothing,  She plays with her cash register at her pretend cafe and tells the customers  to “please enter your pin number now”.  she predicted the new baby is a boy.  I could never have anticipated so great a joy as grand and great grandchildren.

[eviesessays]

38. What is the farthest you have ever traveled?

In 1974, my husband Colonel Philip Pahl was about to be transferred to Hanscom AFB in Bedford, MA.  I was devastated initially as I hoped never to leave my job in Washington.  Easter vacation was approaching and Phil suggested we take advantage of flying on available space for the Easter vacation.  Many more opportunities were available from nearby Andrews AFB than would be at Hanscom.  Heather chose not to go and stayed with a neighbor who had a daughter her age.  Three days before school vacation began we learned that we would be flying to Frankfort, Germany the next day.   We were going with Phil’s son David and my three youngest, Jaylyn, Robin and Peter.  I cautioned them that we were flying free and they were not to utter a word of complaint about accommodations.  As it turned out we were going to Frankfort on an Air Force One backup that was on its way to Vienna to pick up congressmen there for a conference.  It was very comfortable with leather bucket seats and treats replenished by airmen.  Peter came over and whispered to me, “Mom, this isn’t bad at all.”  I guess not.

We rented a car in Frankfort and dared to venture out onto the autoban with no speed limit signs in sight and none seeming to be in use.  Having no command of German we ate some strange meals but what we ate was delicious. We drove along the Rhine and toured a very old castle. We had a tour guide who was glad that there  were Americans and Brits in the group as he did speak English.  However, his strong accent well disguised his bilingualism in Peter’s estimation.  We spent three days in Frankfort and then flew to Madrid, Spain.  We immediately headed to the center to visit the palace but this was Holy Saturday in a very Catholic country.  We were immediately caught up in a sea of people drifting through the streets, dressed in black and praying their rosaries.  We drifted along until we were able to duck into a small cafe that had wonderful pastries and tables to stand at to eat. There we met a Russian visitor with whom Phil struck up a conversation.  Phil had studied Russian at Annapolis and the two of them began quietly singing a little Russian folk song.  at the end he remarked that if people could just get together and sing their folk songs there would be no need for war.  It was a touching moment.

We took the train to Segovia to visit Isabella’s castle where she bid Columbus goodbye before he left for America. There was an old looking woman at the castle gate selling trinkets.  She was dressed all in black and wore a hood. She had a long nose with a long hair growing out the end.  We visited the 700 year old aquaduct that was still in use.  On our return, when Peter’s friend from next door asked what we had seen Peter  told him in detail about the lady selling trinkets outside the palace gate.

We visited the Prado and experiences more of Madrid and then took a train and headed south.  We were advised not to go to Torremolinos as it was overrun by Americans. We headed South to Malaga.  There we visited a very old church and picked oranges off a tree.  We then went on to Fuengerola to our three bedroom apartment on the fifth floor.  It had three balconies looking down on the beach.  We watched an impromptu volley ball game going on below.  Our kids soon joined kids from Germany, Scotland, England and Norway.  the activities director spoke to all in English. The burning question  our kids were asked was, “Is Nixon guilty?”  We could not escape that which consumed all our newscasts at home.  It was the height of the Watergate scandal.

We spent five days in this beautiful place in the sun and  then began to wind our way back home.  The train took us past miles of olive orchards and back to Torrejon AFB where we boarded a cargo plane.  We were strapped to the sides of the plane facing an enormous tightly bound mass of cargo.  The roar of the engines prohibited conversation.  We were headed to Dover, Delaware.  There we were met by our neighbor who drove us home.  

It was a splendid vacation. We had flown 4055 miles to Frankfort and 1478 miles to Madrid. It was 331 miles to Malaga and a few more to Fuengerola.  It was the same 331 back to Madrid and 3781 to Washington. We had traveled more than 10,359 miles .  It was a totally wonderful experience.

I have had many vacations to Italy, France, Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia Herzegovina, England, Scotland and Ireland.  I have made several trips to the Canadian Rockies. I have seen the Rockies with Jaylyn, Anne and Diggs.  Peter, Jenn, Kalote and I made the trip from Calgary through the Columbia Ice Fields where we walked out onto the Athabasca Glacier which is now rapidly receding. At Jasper, we turned West and headed to Quesnel for the wedding of Peter’s cousin 

Brian Kolody.  If I were able I would do that trip again on a moment’s notice.  

Although not nearly the longest, one of my favorite trip was to Ireland with Anne.  The car rental place was unable to provide our economy car in our contract so we were forced to drive for ten days in a brand new Jaguar.  Anne could not have been happier. We sampled Guinness beer and Jamison whiskey. We drove to Waterford, the Dingle peninsula, past the hills of Mohar, ferried across Galway Bay and on to Kylemore castle.  We wound our way back to Dublin and our flight home.  Ireland is beautiful.  We were both sad at leaving.  It was  not by far, my longest trip but very memorable.

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37. What is your best advice when it comes to raising children?

My best advice when it comes to  raising children is far different now than what it might have been when I was actively engaged in child rearing.  I do not know a parent who would not wish the opportunity to do it all over with the wisdom of age and the benefit of hindsight.  The opportunity is altered by the fact that the world had changed significantly from the time they were born until they were preparing for college.  They were born into a world where there was not a cell phone of computer in every home.  Disposable diapers were only a dream to be wished for.  Religious taboos concerning birth control and premarital sex were set aside and changed relationships and child rearing forever.

Besides all that my children are all intelligent and educated people with much more opportunity and freedom in raising their children.  One major difference is the change in family dynamics.  When my children were born my parents were thousands of miles away.  Their paternal grandmother lived within sixty miles but when  Heather was one we were transferred to Alaska and that was the end of family involvement for a few years.  My grandchildren were all cared for by their grandmothers at some time in their childhood.  

I willingly shared my opinions.  I think my certainty that children needed hats and mittens  was more a factor of my intolerance for cold than a serious climate need.  I thought Kalote should have chores and earn spending money.  That fell on deaf ears and she manages to live on her income so she has it all aligned.  I thought children should have some investment in keeping the house tidy and they were expected to make their beds every day before school.  My grandchildren had no such expectation and they have all come to adulthood with interesting lives and careers.

My grandchildren are all very polite, intelligent and well mannered people. They all live productive and interesting lives.  Anne is a sommelier and she and her husband, Dan own and operate a successful pizza shop named, “Joanie’s”,in Chelmsford,MA.  Hillary has a wonderful career in Education at Boston College.  Her husband,David is an accountant.  Diggs (Merton Eugene Thompson V) has a career in Education and teaches in Tottenham, England. He is in a relationship with Laura who like Diggs,is also an avid cyclist.  Harry has a successful career in engineering and lives in Philadelphia with  his partner Rachel.  Kalote having left teaching, lives in Brighton, MA and shares a large apartment with four women.  Will’s education was interrupted by the Covid epidemic but he has a vast fund of knowledge and great curiosity.

My great grandchildren show the same promise.  They are all wise little folk.  Joanie reads at age five and takes ballet lessons.  Everett  is a great big brother.  He has a wonderful singing voice and knows many songs.  Laura, called Lolli, loves to play house and cook in her play kitchen.  She never fails to use her oven mitt to remove things from her room temperature oven.  She loves being read to.  Murphy is a sweet two year old.  She sings the songs from the movie, “Frozen” without missing a word or note.  And now we await the arrival of her new sibling in September.  

So this is my family who are all wonderful and interesting people.  I love them all to the moon and back.  With my children my greatest regret in raising them is that I wish I had enjoyed them more and worried less.

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36. What do you think is the meaning of life?

The easy answer to the question of the meaning of life is most likely and honestly, “I really do not know.”  In my younger years I did think the question was all too deadly serious for me to insult by taking seriously.  Now as I approach the end of my life I know that is a dereliction of our duty to value, honor, cherish and take responsibility for the one precious life each of us is given.  

For most of my life I have struggled with those things that conflict us at the deepest levels of our consciousness, namely,”Who am I?’ and “Why am I here?”  Over the years my response has changed but never completely satisfied.

When I was young I was aware of a woman and her crippled daughter, Ellen who lived in Sioux Lookout.  Ellen was crippled with a very visible limp and was always guided by her Mother’s hand.  Their clothes were always clean but they wore the same clothes all the years I remember them.  I always greeted them but made no further effort to know them better. I considered that a shortcoming in my character. Did I think myself superior?   Now 75 years later, I would make an effort to know Ellen better and I wonder what the meaning of life was for Ellen and her mother. 

My  brother, Kip was born with a heart defect that limited him all his life and finally limited his very life.  Only those close to Kip knew this because he had a , “joie de vivre” that was to be envied.   He was able to see the good in everyone and everything.  He knew from a young age that his life was going to be shorter than most and he meant to make the best of it.  When Kip turned 34 he noted in a letter to me, that he had now made it longer than Jesus Christ and he would never have put money on himself.  He made the most of the time he had and his life had more meaning since he was going to have less of it.

My brother, Carl, at 81 was ravaged with lung cancer.  He had been a hard working robust man all his life.  For years he made the trip over the mountains to Bella Coola and salmon fishing.  On return, he canned and smoked his fish. He hunted and processed his meat himself.  He once built and flew his own airplane.  He built his home and the homes of two of his children.  He made his own wine from raspberries he grew and from Saskatoon berries that grew wild.  He loved life and made the most of it.  I wish I had asked him what he thought was the meaning of life.  Now, when his life expectancy was very limited and his pain severe, he chose an assisted death which is allowed in Canada with strict parameters.  We spoke by phone that morning and wept. and told each other how much we loved each other one last time.  Doreen called me twenty minutes after the injection.  Carl was gone.  All his children and grandchildren were present.  Our brother, Michael was present for the injection but left, unable to bear what was inevitable.  Doreen told me that Carl looked more peaceful than he had in weeks. He deserved some freedom from his pain.

My Nursing school classmate, Val, had for years extolled the virtues and joy of living with Jesus as her lord and savior.  She had hoped to convince me.  She had a ministry.  She wrote letters to men in prison encouraging them to accept the Lord. She claimed to be rapturously happy but she was estranged from all three of her children and divorced from her husband.  I wondered how she defined happiness.  I had to admit that it seemed easier for her but I know I wold have found thus totally unfulfilling.  

I have wondered what the meaning of life is to a young virile university man who steps onto the ice in his first game.  He slides into the boards and is a paraplegic for the rest of his days.  Yet, he has found meaning to his life.  He does good works with young people in similar circumstances.  His life has meaning.  He does not resent the cruel hoax life dealt him.

I feel certain I could not be that accepting. 

I am looking at my snow covered garden.  It is past mid March and soon a crocus will appear.  Then the crocus and tulips will join the celebration of new life.  I will go to work in my garden, planting and potting with my search for the meaning of life still a work in progress.

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35. What are your favorite memories of each of your children growing up?

Whenever I think of the funny and memorable things my children did growing up, I always end up wishing I had enjoyed them more and worried less about feeding, clothing and educating them.  They were cute, funny, intelligent lovable children who did heart warming things.

For eleven years we lived on Lansing Drive.   It was a neighborhood of young families with children in every home.  One day I was at my easel painting when the doorbell rang and two older ladies said they were there for the concert.  They showed me their tickets drawn perfectly in Heather’s seven year old script.  Indeed there was a concert in my backyard.  Heather had gathered all the outgrown costumes from past recitals and taught the younger children dances.  Our patio was their stage and everyone generously applauded all the efforts. 

Jaylyn was my pensive one.  She seldom spoke up since Heather always spoke for both of them when necessary or not.  She once was invited to join Heather and their daughter, Joanne on an early Spring ride to the beach.  I told Jaylyn she could go but she had to talk to everyone.  On return she reported talking the entire conversation.  Joanne’s Mom asked if anyone wanted gum and Jaylyn reported saying, “I do.  I do”.Jaylyn once asked me if the back of our head was our three head since the front was our forehead.  She wondered if there were little hands in the dishwasher that washed our dishes when we closed the door.  

Heather was a girl scout and went off to Camp May Flather in Virginia, one summer.  She dutifully got all her things together by herself.  She very conscientiously checked her list and had everything.  I was so proud of her.  She recently told me she had kept all the letters I wrote to her and has scanned them into perpetuity.  Jaylyn was not interested in scouting.  She had no interest in sleeping on the ground with bugs running freely everywhere.  She wanted to take guitar lessons.  I signed her up with a teacher recommended by my neighbor.  She quickly lost interest saying he played with is head nodding sideways and his mouth open.  Definitely not a good match. In later years Jaylyn took up the dulcimer.  

About this time Robin was in second grade and came home one day bursting with the great news that her teacher’s cat had kittens and she could have one free if her Mom allowed this.  My response was an emphatic, “NO”.  I explained to Robin that she would lose interest in her kitten and fifteen years hence she would be off at college and I would still be living with that cat.  Her teacher then allowed the children to come and see the kittens and I agreed we could all go and look at the kittens.  Three weeks later we brought Ida Grey Pussy Cat Joss home and 18 years later I was still living with her.  At this same time Heather’s friend down the street had a miniature Schnauzer who had puppies and they would certainly take much better care and interest in a dog.  We named her OttenBritt and called her Britt.  It seemed a perfect name.   My maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Anna OttenBritt.  She was born in Germany.  It was a great name for our new family member.  Peter was a senior in college in  May of 1985 when I had to have Britt euthanized.  She was a great pet.  her stub of a tail wagged at the mere prospect of play time.  All the children loved Britt.  Once when Jaylyn was in high school, she brought home an exchange student for dinner.  His name was Yugi and he was from Japan.  Britt was lying on her cushion under the desk in the kitchen and Yugi asked, “Is your pet a cat or a dog”?  She was just a cute little bundle of brindle grey fur but everyone loved Britt.  

Robin made every effort to keep up to her older sisters.  She played school with them.  She wanted to learn all they learned.  One day as her Dad was having breakfast she asked if he would like his paper to read and he agreed that would be nice.  She then asked if he would like today’s or tomorrow’s ?  Well, given a choice, he would take tomorrow’s.  Robin was at the coffee table shuffling papers and then tearfully said, “I can’t know what is tomorrow’s.  I’m too little to read”. Robin was not often stumped.

I clearly remember Heather’s first day of school.  She went off full of confidence that she could handle this.  She seemed so little to be sent out into the world.  When I waited for her after school she assured me she knew all the right answers.  The questions were, “What is your name? and Where do you live?’  My wee scholar knew all the right answers.  I was very proud of her.

Peter was about four when he was invited to our neighbor’s birthday party.  He had a fever the night before but seemed fine at party time.  In his best clothes he went off, gift in hand to Robbie’s party.  He was brought home about an hour later feverish and vomiting.  Peter was convinced the potato chips were bad and for many years did not eat a potato chip.  When Peter was in kindergarten he told me his teacher was very beautiful.  She in fact, was quite plump, had red hair and freckles.  She was a marvelous, kind and gentle teacher and I was proud Peter saw her beauty.

Only Robin escaped broken bones and Heather didn’t break her leg til she fell on the ice at the University of Maryland. When we lived on Lansing Jaylyn fell off her bike one day and came home complaining about her arm hurting.  Like a good mother and nurse I applied ice.  The next day there was no relief and Dr Shaver confirmed the arm was broken.  We went on our usual week at Rehoboth Beach with Jaylyn’s arm in a cast.  On a summer visit to Sioux Lookout Peter was playing on a self propelled merry go round and fell off.  He had a greenstick fracture  of his right wrist.  He was in Sioux Lookout General Hospital.  The next day under general anaesthetic if was realigned and a cast applied.  Peter was amazed that he went to sleep and he was not even tired.  The doctor I had known since childhood had made things right.

I cannot stop thinking about this story.  I think about the Mother’s Day breakfast in bed with eggs scrambled in peanut butter.  Then there was the time they tasted Miracle Grow tablets  and as I as looking up the poison center telephone number Robin,  was doing arabesque across the kitchen.  She assured me she had licked some and didn’t die.  

They were such great kids. We made trips to Canada to visit my brother Kip and his family of four.  One trip was in my Triumph T3 .  Heather was my copilot and Jaylyn, Robin and Peter sat on that wee ledge in back all the way from Washington, DC to Kingston, Ontario.  Kids do not come any greater than that.

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34. If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

There is no end to the list of talents I would wish to have.  I would have loved to have been a recognized mathematician.  I would, in fact, have just settled for liking Calculus.  I could only on my wildest dreams see any hope of being a great singer or painter.  I would have been jubilant to skate like Barbara Ann Scott, who in 1948 won the Olympic Gold Medal for Canada in figure skating.  Since my earliest memories, I wished I could play the piano.  When I retired just prior to age 65, I bought a piano thinking I would now have time for lessons and practice. I am now 87 and have yet to arrange for my first lesson.

That I was never a mathematics wizard would be no surprise to anybody.  I hated mathematics classes and homework which is no useful approach to learning anything.  At no time in my life did I make a great effort to master trigonometry.  It simply passed me by and these days I am content to be mathematically endowed enough to add my Dominoes score

in my head.

I think the clear recognition that I had absolutely no singing talent was due, at least in large part to the fact that I do not hear properly and likely haven’t for most of my life.  As a child I had frequent earaches and when I was in my mid 30’s my otolaryngologist put tubes in my ears.  That put an end to burst ear drums every time I flew. What a gift to be able to hear and be pain free at the end of a trip or the start of a vacation.  I still cannot sing or recognize most notes beyond middle C on the piano but although limited, I still hear. Great singers are rare so no being in the ranks is quite understandable.

In Washington I took a painting course at Catholic University and hoped to one day produce memorable works of art.  I loved painting but with a growing family time was of the essence.  A dogged dedication seemed to be the basic requirement.   One day when I was pregnant with Peter  I was busy painting as the girls napped. My neighbor came running over to tell me President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas.  The world has not been the same since that day.   My neighbor. Rose and I stood all night in the November rain to file past the coffin lying in State in the Capital rotunda.  Some time later I took out my easel and paints again.

Today, I have only two of my paintings. One is a still life with a tankard and apples, a pear and knife on a bare wooden table.  Kalote wants this canvas and I am glad of that. At this time Jay was separating from the family.  he was absent more often than he was present and most financial support of the family was also increasingly absent.  Money for canvas as not in the budget.  One day I was gardening and emptied a bag of peat moss. It was a burlap bag. I opened the seam, washed the bag and stretched it on a 36 by 48 inch frame.  I painted it with two coats of gesso and voila, I had a canvas.  this is now the second painting I still have.  It pictures women huddled from the cold probably in New York.   It is reminisent of Kirshner in the early 1900’s.  Both Jaylyn and Anne want this painting so it will find a home and my talent will be somewhere long after I am gone.  

My skating talents were sufficient to impress my grandchildren as we skated on a small frozen pond on the farm in Warner.  That was satisfying enough.  I still wonder  at times if I could still glide easily around a rink and stay upright. I never get curious enough to make the attempt.

So here I am feeling certain I have no finely honed or even discernible talent.  I am glad I have always had enough curiosity to try many things.  I am not a seamstress by any measure but I have sewed my children and grandchildren things to wear.  Anne once told me she liked the jumpers I made her for school because they had big pockets.  Harry wore his granny made pyjamas until the bottoms were knee high.  My great grandchildren get hand stitched baby blankets as my fingers become more arthritic and my Parkinson’s has  more influence on my needle  work.  

I still enjoy gardening, not to be interpreted as a talent but I am grateful for what I am able to do.  I am grateful for the talents God has given me, if in fact, he is the deliverer of talents.  No talent i acquired reached an “expert” level but all were useful and for that I am truly thankful.

[eviesessays]

33. What is your favorite joke?

When I saw this title I began trying to recall all the jokes I had heard that i thought were very funny and made me laugh. I could think of very few and they brought no peals of laughter now.  Then I thought of my first husband’s favorite and frankly, I really liked it too.  Jay always told it in his finest Scottish brogue and I hope it doesn’t lose too much in the written word.  

The story goes that two very old brothers were coming to their end.  Jock and Angus had lived together all their adult lives and now, as happens, Angus lay dying.  Jock ,as promised would care for his every wish until his end.

After some time of declining health, Angus sensed his end was nearing and summoned Jock to his bedside.  He wished him to come close and listen carefully.  He admitted to Jock that years ago, an old uncle has bequeathed to him a 100 year old bottle of Scotch whiskey.  He told Jock in detail where behind the bookcase the bottle was hidden.  He declared that he wished Jock to have the Scotch and Jock was more than pleased and could hardly hide his delight when Angus, gasping his last breath uttered his final request.  He asked only one final favor of Jock and that was the request that when he was dead and gone,  Jock was to take that bottle of Scotch and, “pour it o’er

me grave”.  The very thought of doing this horrified Jock and he struggled to give an honest answer.  Angus, clinging to life begged for the promise.  At last, as Angus took his last breath Jock promised, “That, I will Angus. That, I will but do ye mind if I pass it through me kidneys first?”

The story is far better heard than read but never the less, it remains my favorite joke.

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32. What is one of your earliest childhood memories?

My memory is cluttered with fragments of memorable events.  I remember a storm when we lived on Queen Street.  The thunder clapped and lightning bolts seemed to be everywhere striking and melting our neighbors fence.  I clearly remember our playmates Billy, Kathy and Patrick and that might be because we went all through school together graduating with Patrick.  I clearly remember all the roads were dirt and Mr. Otto graded them in summer and rolled the snow packer over them in Winter.   I knew no other type except from pictures in the paper. I think I was about three and a half years old when we went to visit my paternal grandmother, Eva Kolody in East Selkirk, Manitoba. My Dad insists I was too young to remember but some memories die hard and I am certain I remember this story.  My grandmother was a formidable presence. She was a large woman who wore long dresses and always a babooshka.  not an attractive head scarf but a babooshka.  I have no memory of liking her but only  being quite afraid of her.  She spoke mainly in her native tongue so I seldom knew what she was saying.

My memory of that visit was not primarily of her but rather of her dog.  He was a nondescript snarly yowl who lurked everywhere.  One day Kip and I were sent to her cellar to get ourselves an apple from a bushel barrel.  As I reached for my apple that dog bit my right hand.  I had a puncture wound and it was likely only an act of God that I did not get rabies.  My grandmother died shortly after that visit but I still have my scar from that last visit.

 She and my grandfather, Stephan had immigrated to Canada in 1909.  They were recipients of a land grant in East Selkirk where they were to grow potatoes and a specific number of bushels of potatoes would go to the Canadian government until the cost of the land was paid.  I do not know how long it took to own the land outright but my grandfather died soon after.  My grandmother with a flock of daughters and only my Dad and uncle John (who was cognitively “slow”), were left to run the farm.  Various hired help came and went. My Dad went to work in the rolling mills hoping to never do farm work or wear dungarees ever again.  

When I visited my Dad near his end  he was in Sioux Lookout General Hospital, having had many strokes over the last ten years.  he was now quite debilitated and it was on this visit that I brought an old photo album from his house to identify all these people I did not know.  I remarked that he and his brothers Harry and Bill were very handsome young men.  I asked if they looked like their Mom or Dad.  with a very sheepish grin my father reminded me that they were born six or more years after my grandfather died.  At age 50. I was able to do the math.What a revelation.  Babooshka and all my granny was a tart.

Weeks after I wrote this remark I was plagued with feelings of regret.  It was a reckless, glib remark and I felt compelled to correct it.  I know my gran was not a tart.  She was an immigrant woman with very limited language ability, a potato farm to maintain and a dead husband. My Dad as still a boy and my uncle John was  no help.  John had some mental impairment.  With limited language ability and limited facilities in the farm country his mental deficits went undiagnosed and untreated.  My grandmother took in a hired hand.  My uncle Harry resulted from that liaison. After  a couple years this help left.  My aunts were old enough to help care for the baby but the farm still needed help.  Another hired hand came on board and in time my grandmother gave birth to my uncle Bill.  The hired man eventually left but the potato farm remained until the death of my uncle Bill.  His widow, Doris inherited the farm.

My grandmother died not long after our visit which makes me think her condition was the reason for our visit.  I have no other memory of my paternal grandmother.  

Probably of the same era is my memory of Fasano’s Candy Store where my Dad took us every Sunday for a sweet treat. I clearly remember Betty, who owned the candy shop.  She also played the piano for the town band who were all anchored on a flatbed truck for every parade  or occasion that required a little music.  

I remember my friend, Elsie.  Our fathers were old friends from their bachelor days.  We didn’t hear stories of that time. Elsie’s house had a second floor and I thought that was about as good as having two houses.  

These are some of my earliest memories and there are fragments of others lurking here and there.  However, the small puncture wound scar on my right hand where my grandmother Kolody’s snarly yowl bit me is a vivid reminder of my earliest memory.

[eviesessays]

31. Who inspires you?

Everybody and many things inspire me.  My problem at this age is my nearly impossible power to do anything about that inspiration.  

In the Spring when I was 12 years old, I had my appendix removed which in those days meant ether as an anesthetic and a week in hospital.  I can still experience nausea at the very thought of ether.  However the experience of being cared for by nurses was likely an experience that impacted the rest of my life.  I was always allowed to remove wood splinters from my Dad’s hands when I was very little and not very adept.  I liked hearing my Dad call me his nurse but after my appendectomy the mold was cast.  My destiny was  determined.

At my 40th high school class reunion we all agreed without exception, that our favorite teacher was Miss Gillis.  She was a matronly woman of maybe 50 years who always had her hair done neatly.  She was an inspiration to all of us.  And she was certain we could all love Shakespeare and despite all evidence  to the contrary she was sure we could all go on to higher education.  She was right in  most cases.

When my granddaughter, Anne was in third grade she wrote a Greek play which in itself was quite remarkable.  She called me one evening to ask if I could make her costumes as her play was going to be performed for her school.  The play was two days hence.  Luckily, both men and women of Greece at that time wore chitons.  These were short robes tied at the waist with rope.  That was easy enough.  Anne was the narrator and had a crown and her mother’s jewelry. The play was a success and made the Newburyport newspaper’s front page.  How could I not be inspired.

I lived on my farm in Warner for 22 years.  It was a beautiful place tucked in a valley in the Mink Hills. It also had a swimming pool and my grandchildren spent time there with me during their summer vacation.  On one such occasion they came pool ready. They were wearing their swimsuits and 

carrying colorful pieces of foam called noodles.  I asked if they really held them above water or how many noodles would be needed to keep me afloat.  Merton suggested I might need 17 noodles.  Anne immediately came to my defense chiding Merton for implying I was heavier than I ought to be.  I assured both that there was no harm done and it would be our secret.  I could tell them I stuck to my diet by announcing I lost a noodle or two.  My grandchildren have all inspired me to be a better person as each of them certainly are such.

My friend, David inspires me.  He has a hereditary eye condition that never seemed to limit him.  He graduated from Harvard and went on to Medical School. He is now chief of staff in Neuro Oncology in a very large teaching hospital.  Years before when he was taking a gap year deciding to go into law or medicine, we worked together.  One weekend we went up to Cranmore, NH to watch the US tennis open.  We saw Michael Chang play.  I don’t know how much of the match David actually saw but it was a well spent and inspiring day.  

It is my brother, Kip who inspires me to this day.  He has been gone for more than 15 years now but remains vivid in my memory.  We share the dubious distinction of having hereditary, congenital anomalies.  He had Epstein’s disease and was actually missing a large portion of his right atrium.  i have a ventricular hypertrophy that inhibits the closing of the mitral valve.  My problem was not diagnosed until I was in my 70’s.  Kip’s was evident at birth and my parents were cautioned not to send him to school fearing it would be too taxing.  He graduated from high school and went on to have a successful career with the Imperial Bank.  I  am now experiencing the shortness of breath that Kip knew from birth.  I can now relate to the admission Kip made to me two months before he died.  He without rancor, but as a matter of fact, said he did not wish to just be here taking up space and using up Oxygen.  I now know of what he spoke.  He will inspire me to the end.

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30. Who is the wisest person you've known? What have you learned from them?

I began this story thinking about all the brilliant people I would like to emulate.  Then I realized the question was actually concerning people I knew who inspired me.  The first person who came to mind was my friend, David.  He was so intellectually superior to me that it actually seems strange that we have remained friends for more than 30 years.  We met when we were coworkers at McLean Hospital, a psychiatric institution that had a very large research department and was Harvard’s teaching facility.  He was incredibly patient with the clients.  I never acquired that level of patience that seemed to come effortlessly to David.  I never acquired his understanding or appreciation on classical music. Despite the fact that he is legally blind enough to have had a Boston T pass he completed Medical School at Harvard.  He is currently head of a neuro oncology in a large teaching hospital.  He never flaunted his wisdom and if I learned anything from David, it was that I could be a much better, kinder and contemplative person.  His two little daughters leave him and his wife little notes about where they  fall short as parents.  I cannot believe that.

I always admired my brother, Kip who never complained about his illness.  He seldom told people about it.  He was a very funny person.  Although we have related congenital heart defects, mine only became apparent later in life.  I can only strive to accept the inevitable with the grace and humor with which Kip dealt with life.

I always admired my classmate and friend, Betty. She always did and said the right thing and she did so with a slight British accent.  She came by this very honestly as both her parents were born in England and retained much of their accents.  Betty had a German Shepherd Dog she named Otto Von Bismark and we called Otto, for brevity.  Her sense of propriety was inspirational.

I think I am inspired daily by my children, grandchildren and now my great grandchildren.  Heather has retired from a career in accounting. Jaylyn writes beautifully and I hope will begin writing a book now that she is retiring from a successful career in the editorial Department of MIT’s Lincoln Lab.  She is currently very busy being a grandmother.  Robin made a successful move from San Raphael CA to Myrtle Beach, SC.  Her eye for decorating is wonderful and her new home reflects that.  Peter has had an interesting career in Engineering and as I write is on his way home from a business trip to Arizona. He inspires me to keep moving, sometimes to my chagrin.  

I did not smoke in high school or Nursing school but when I married a smoker I took up the filthy habit. My children all knew better.  They acquired pictures and posters from the American Cancer Society.  One poster pictured a haggard, wrinkled woman with a cigarette hanging from the far left corner of her mouth.  The caption said, “Smoking is Debonair”.  This hung by the kitchen door where it could not be missed or ignored.  I foolishly continued this filthy habit into my late 30’s until one day when Peter asked me how badly I would feel if one of my children had cancer because I smoked.  That was it.  I threw my cigarettes into the trash with the coffee grounds and never smoked again. 

My grandchildren, without exception, are all intellectually enviable.  Hillary and Harry both graduated in the top 10 in their class of 400 plus.  Both have successful careers.  Anne reads as she breaths. She is very creative and this is displayed in her home she is decorating. Diggs, teaches school in England after several years teaching English in Japan. Will has a command of nature that I envy. He knows the names of all the varieties of moss that once was my lawn.  He asks if I saw the yellow rumped warbler that flew by.  I would not likely recognize it again if I did see it.  Kalote finished her degree i teaching and after a year of challenging student teaching and a year of teaching in New York at a challenging salary, she is back in the Boston area with a lucrative position in real estate.  I would never in my wildest dreams, thought of writing stories of my life.  She has inspired me at the age of 87 to tell her those stories that I hope she will share long after I am gone.  Kalote also once inspired me to help her make a pillow for her boyfriend.  It was to be in the shape of his favorite cassette tape.  Not only did I have trouble visualizing this, I was certain it could not be done.  We made the pillow.  This inspiration is in the same category as Anne needing 18 costumes for the play she had written and was presenting two days hence.  

Joan Clementine is five years old now and after the most frightening and inauspicious start in life at Tufts Neonatal Nursery  she is a delight.  She has exceeded all prognostications of her progress.  She swims like a fish.  She now reads to her little sister, Lolli.  Everett is four now and named after me.  He is a very sweet little boy who still has a lisp.  He announced in a face time phone call yesterday that they are having a new baby in September.  What joyous news.  Lolli (Laura) is two and a half now.  She loves being read to and listens attentively  She is clear in all her instructions and gives them freely.  She likes having tea parties even with imaginary tea.  Murphy, at age two  sings songs from her favorite movie, “Frozen”.  Today she sent me a text message.  It was six lines of emojis.  I look forward to continually be inspired by all these wonderful people in my life.

[eviesessays]

29. What did you learn from your parents?

Who knows what one learns from their parents in those earliest weeks of life.  Do you as an infant learn or sense who loves you, or whose life you now burden, or whose sleep you now disrupt? You quickly learn to look gleeful and interact as we peek around a corner and say, “peek-a-boo”.  Everything you learn you must learn from those around you.  My brother, Clifford was a year and six days older than me.  Did I learn from him?

In my earliest years I learned my prayers and table manners from my parents.  At an early age I learned that I really liked candy.  I liked playing with my brothers.  We had an old grey blanket that became a magic carpet or a tent depending on what need arose.  It was sometimes a mode of transportation as I pulled Carl around on it. On one such adventure the blanket was now rotted from many nights left in the rain.  I pulled as hard as I might and I went flying.  My forehead landed on a metal grate at our back door.  Its purpose was to scrape mud and grass off your shoes before entering the house.  It served to scar my forehead for the next ten years.  I learned a valuable lesson about old rain rotted blankets but I am not sure how valuable that information served me in later years.

My Dad read the funnies to us every Sunday and I know I liked those times.  I do not know what I learned from the reading but I know I loved my Dad.  

I think by the age of five I learned as much from friends and neighbors as from my parents.  Once I started school it was apparent to me which nuns were kind and gentle.  I quickly learned to whom I wished to be close and whom I wished to avoid. I was learning to read and write and also who I preferred to be learning from.  

My Dad did teach us much about the sawmill where he worked.   On Saturdays my mother would pack him a hot lunch and Clifford, Carl and I would hustle the mile and a half to the mill.  We would visit in the steam room while he ate.  It was always cozy and warm in there.  I was captivated by the huge wheels and belts that were constantly spinning loudly to keep the saws and planer  operating.  My Dad also designed and ground the blades to make special moldings.  The Patricia Lumber Company sent their moldings across Canada and parts of the US.  I do not know how my Dad learned this skill but I know his work was valued.  I loved our time at the mill.  The aroma of damp sawdust was most pleasant to me and still reminds me of pleasant times with my Dad and brothers.  Carl was less appreciative of the sawdust. He had eczema and allergies. He was able to overlook any discomfort because he too loved time at the mill.  It was my Dad who taught us how and why to calculate board feet.

Clifford and Carl were probable 15 and 13 when they got to work at the mill over summer vacation. An old gentleman named Tony drove a team of horses around the mill yard with loads of lumber that needed to be stacked with appropriate air space to accommodate drying.  When logs came up the jack ladder they went through large saws that cut off the sides.  The bark covered sides dropped down to the floor below.  There they were cut to furnace length pieces and piled aside to be taken to our house and stored in the basement to fuel our wood burning furnace through the winter.  The mill was an incredible learning experience for all of us.  

I learned much from my mother but am less likely to acknowledge that.  I wish she had stopped to consider how long the memories of her beating us would last. I did learn to serve tea properly, to dress appropriately and to where a hat must be worn.  Every Saturday afternoon she listened to, “Opera on the Air” on radio from New York.  I had little appreciation at the time but in later years I volunteered as an usher at Concord Center for the Arts. They simulcast operas from New York and I then knew what she was enjoying.  

When Hillary Clinton observed that it took a village to raise a child I totally agreed.  I learned much from my parents but it was the rest of the village  and teachers, friends, professors, coworkers and other parents who taught me much of what I learned.