A Hudson Christmas (collage)

A smidgen of Hudson to take you into the new year.

Love

C

A few more Hudson

To round out your holidays, a few more from Annie's recent visit here.

A Hudson holidays

Hudson's uncle Matt sent these of our little man bundled against the Dallas chill, aboard a carriage with his lovely cousin Bailey.

If there's a cute set of little eyes peeking out from between hat and muffler, let them come forward.




Till then, Hudson's winter get-up is rivaled only by his recent halloween lobster ensemble.

Clearly, Hudson is a holidays man.

We miss him up here.

C

More Hudson

In Hudson's world there are many guests, visiting admirers: Aunt Annie was a recent one:

I just wanted you all to see how well Hudson Brown and his dad Chad are flourishing! We discovered a fifth tooth coming in this weekend, and spent hours crawling on the floor, watching Hudson pull himself up on anything, babble away like he's really saying "Dadda" and finding hours of entertainment just staring at him on the go.

We decorated the house in a feeble attempt to make Hudson's first Christmas as festive as if Linds were here to decorate herself. Hudson can't keep his eyes (and hands) off the shiny and sparkley new tree. We hung the stockings with care, and Tia shed a tear or 10 looking at all of the ornaments from the Stephenson family past...Linds had an ornament from almost every year of her life, in addition to the box of left-overs my mom had given the "Unholy Four" when they lived in Palo Alto. Second to Thanksgiving, Linds was very gung-ho about Christmas, so I hope we were able to accomplish setting the tone for Chad and Hudson's first Christmas without her.
Hudson is a strong, vibrant and joyful baby who is such a joy to be around- he is such a mellow baby, as if he knew that his entry into this world was under such painful circumstances he's just trying to make it easy on everyone. Chad is a doting dad who knows just what Hudson needs at all times.


Annie's Hudson photos

Love to all - C

A Very Hudson Thanksgiving

Rus and I returned Sunday from a Hudson/Chad hosted Thanksgiving. Lynn and Bill, Dad and Sarah, me and R and the 2 men of Texas.

From the photos though, you'd be forgiven for thinking there was only Hudson in attendance. The camera found him, he found the camera - a sort of magic and everyone else kind of dropped away...

Hudson's Thanksgiving Photos

Chad, with nanny-all-rounder Yvonne's help, is raising an amazing boy. Grandparents and in-laws rightly suspect he may be even beyond amazing to utter genius but for now, we can report that he is right on track with healthy + normal development, as well as showing the very definite signs of a lovely personality to boot.

Hudson:
crawls exceptionally,
raises himself to a sort of standing unreservedly,
tracks people with keen focus and full 360's of the little head,
babbles what may or may not be words,
has fleshed-out sturdily and maintained lovely skin,
nurtured 2 top and 2 bottom teeth, a lovely curling lock of hair at the back and wisps of gold/red hair all around (that poof up and blow back in the swing wind),
prefers plastic hangers, a Bud Light box and empty water bottles to fancier (and better suited) toys,
enjoys reading but, for the time being, would rather focus energies elsewhere,
is not convinced that sleep’s the best use of time,
snores just a little,
doesn't just look into your eyes but seems to peer very deep,
has the cheeks and magnificent thighs of Linds at his age,
does not like to eat cereal or sit in his high chair AT ALL,
ditto his diaper and outfits changed – as if being subjected to most ungodly tortures,
is gracious with all visitors,
hugs wonderfully,
loves his Dad,
makes us simultaneously miss and feel the presence of his mom.



Thank you Chad and thank you Hudson.

With much love

C

The giving park

Hudson and his park make me think of The Giving Tree - though one wherein the giving doesn't famish the giver.

In the beginning, Hudson will witness the park from the vantage of his stroller – the imprinting of the park’s light and shadows, a recollection of its trees. Its smells will stay and bury themselves deep.

Then Hudson arrives as a toddler - higher on the jungle-gym, faster on the slide, needing no pushing on the swing. He'll be accompanied for these years too - Yvonne, Chad, friends and babysitters too.

Eventually, Hudson will venture to the park on his own. He'll have chosen a conveyance by now, so we we'll see Hudson on a bike, a skateboard, maybe on roller blades. Or possibly just on his own two feet - a runner like his mom, his grandfather. By now he'll avoid the toddler section probably, but still feel some link.

Later he'll come with books, friends, a girl...

(Zip right over cars and beers – a feasible but not pretty-to-descibe-stage in the boy/park relationship too.)

Then Hudson will go away for some time. When he returns home, then walks over to Tietze Park, I imagine he might sit beneath a tree, now maybe with his own Hudson, and begin to tell the little person how the toddler park came to be.

C – imagining Linds already sees all this

Slides and jungle gyms, for Linds

A week ago in Dallas, blocks from where Chad and Hudson live, a group of cousins, friends and neighbors gathered to launch a part of Lindsey's legacy at Tietze Park.

Linds and Chad had walked to the park the night before we lost her: Chad said they’d been anticipating Hudson's immanent arrival, and imagining the park’s role in their little guy’s life.

In her honor, a fund was set up to build a toddler's playground at Tietze and, with the dedication and contributions from many (too many to name here), ground for the toddler playground has been broken.



Hole-side, Chad reported:
Attached are the pictures from the groundbreaking event -- it was very fun and well attended by our group (Ten, Pep, MK, Michael and Janelle Hottinger, Rebecca and friend, Michael Fox (fritolay neighbor))...the park is getting a major overhaul and the toddler playground is the only resident financed part of the park...so thank you again for all your support!

Love, Chad and Hudson

The fund continues to welcome contributions of course – can the world have enough space for its young? Details:

Friends of Tietze Park Foundation,
On behalf of Lindsey Brown
P.O. Box 140693, Dallas, TX 75214
www.neighborhoodlink.com/org/tietzepark/

C - wishing a slide and sandpit for every small soul.

Hudson on Tour

The toast of many cities and households this past month, Hudson's photos and accolades are pouring in.

That Hudson in DC had something to do with the recent and long-overdue Democrat's retaking of the House?? We speculate...

He travels with the ease of his mom, charms large crowds (Dad's entire JSI office, a party at their house and then a visit to Sarah's office too), has an outfit for every occasion, managed a sea change in our country's balance of power after just a few days in Georgetown, and has a smile + gurgle for all.

Dad waxed in one email:
Little Hudson has continued to charm everyone with whom he comes in contact - especially Papi. We had a great weekend with the little fellow. He spent in our room on Friday and Saturday nights. It is such a joy to wake up and have him right there, bring him into our bed and play with him. Mornings are his best time, but he's really terrific all the rest of the day - only a few more smiles in the AM...
Everyone said the same thing - not only is Hudson really cute and good looking, but he has such a nice demeanor - calm and friendly...> Only 24 more hours with Hudson. We'll miss his smiling face and his motoring on all fours. Only consolation is that we'll see him in a couple of weeks... He's a very, very special little fellow.

Not surprisingly, Hudson's been photographed everywhere he's gone, here - some of the albums with big thanks to Julie Saliba and my Dad.
Dad and Sarah's Hudson and Yvonne album

Julie Saliba's Hudson Album



C-on-the-Hudson

Hudson's a lobster

Not sure whose inspiration/creation was the lobster outfit but am pretty sure Hudson couldn't be any cuter. Maybe Tara Hinkle - who posted the photos? Maybe Chad, who does have a lobster thing?

No matter - Hudson wore the lobster outfit, it clearly didn't wear him...


C - sort of overwhelmed but lobster-y sweetness and envying dad and sarah hosting Hudson and Yvonne for the week in DC

Hudson at 6 months

From his most recent dcotor's report - Chad recaps and gives Hudson's fall travel schedule:

Hudson had a 6 mo appt today - 3 shots and general checkup...he weighed 16 lbs and 26 inches long.
30th percentile in weight and 50th in height.
He and I are headed to NM for a 4 day weekend this weekend and then, I am headed to Cambridge for Johnny's wedding the following weekend (Hudson is not on the travelling squad right now for the Cambridge trip).
On Nov 1, Hudson and Nanny Yvonne are going to Georgetown for a week with David and Sarah.

Hugs to H. Love to the dad.

C

Defining bittersweet

Tomorrow's the anniversary of Hudson's 6th month in our world and Linds' 6th absent from it.

I do not know what to make of this.

Hudson should not have to share his arrival with a departure. I hope that, as years unwind and Hudson gets more teeth, a voice, we'll discover how to celebrate Linds along side him.

Maybe an extra candle, or silence, or Lindsey-esque dance-of-joy.

Cousin Annie (newly-married + ever-thoughtful), sent the following: prayers from us read by Ashley to Hudson at Linds' memorial.

(Note to the non-denominated: I too sometimes get a little jeeby with prayers, so if you want to substitiute "wishes" or "fervent hopes" that's okay too.)


A Prayer for Hudson

We pray you always know how deeply loved and cherished you are by all your mom’s family - aunts, uncles and cousins included. They would do anything for you. Their love for you is unconditional.

We pray you are blessed with your mother’s remarkable gift for instantly warming a person’s heart with her enormous, brilliant smile.

We pray you know how grateful we are that you were born and how blessed we feel to have you in our lives.

We pray that you have your parents’ zest for love and adventure.

We pray you have eyes like your mother so your daddy can look into them and see 2 great loves of his life.

We pray your father teaches you to dance so you can woo all the girls onto the dance floor and make your mom proud.

We pray that you admire your father’s courage and strength.

We pray you grow up embodying the same joyful, curious and generous spirit as your mother.

We pray you grow not only in size and strength but in wisdom as well.

We pray you get to know your grandparents really, really well. They’re all amazing.

We pray your dad will find a way to acknowledge a moment of joy in each day, and share it with you, paying tribute to the joy your mom gave and received out of life each day.

We pray that when you’re 33 you will be living as full a life as your mom was.

We pray your father will sleep well at night and laugh and dance with your mom in his dreams.

We pray that your daddy reads you Goodnight Moon with much frequency.

We pray that you fall as deeply in love with someone as your mom and dad did with each other.

And we pray that you always know how much your mom loves you and that even though you can’t see her, we pray you always know she’s there.

Much love, from your mom’s cousins and sister: Ashley, Johnny, Tenley, Courtney, Andrew, Peppie, Susanna and Annie (and their spouses)

C (peace-out little H)

Grandpop's letters

Mom or Linds may be watching this week's proceedings from elsewhere, but here amongst the huggable, I've got family, friends and I've got Grandpop.
Who I called last night with the news of R and my engagement.

Every Friday since we were young, and since through the decades that the family's grown, split and rewoven itself, Grandpop and Grandma have sent a family letter.

For its first 4 decades, the letter was typed missive in a long office-y envelope. (Sometimes Grandma would have re-pasted unmarked stamps on to make postage.) With Grandpop's carats and spelling corrections, Grandma's own typed note at the end hilighting a garden show, a visit, they document the mundane of tennis matches, dinners, as well as the inevitable passages - welcome ones and others not.

My family's timeline captured.

Then, some years back, a cousin (Andrew?) started Grandpop on the computer. Though the computer's now been updated, Grandpop's use of it remains exactly as when he started: he logs on, reads the emails accumulated in his Juno account (spammers be ashamed) and, each Friday morning, he sends the family email.

Like the other cousins, I scan for a mention of my name - to be recorded by grandpop is familial posterity.

Which is a long and rambly way to say: In this morning's email, Rus and I my news came in under the wire.

Here from Grandpop:
Greetings on another gorgeous morning at Sea Island. As many know, Ruslan proposed; Courtney happily accepted; no date yet for wedding. Courtney, thoughtfully, called the good news last night. DELIGHTED. Felicitations to Courtney; confratulations to Ruslan. That will leave Alexander the only unwed grandchild.. That's way ahead. Meanwhile, maybe more great-grandchildren will appear??

C

From Boston

It's many things that are amazing as I wrap my second full day of wearing my ring from R.

But here in Boston (where it's nicely, new england-ly, fall-ish) it's a little bittersweet.

I went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum this afternoon. I took the blue line from Logan, switching to the green at Government Center and the red just now.

How many t trips did Linds and I make together? It was our yellow school bus. A-zillion daily roundtrips Shawmut-Harvard-Shawmut to school ("Shawmut" could exist only in Boston, with brother "Lechemere") and a billion one-off trips to museums, friends' houses, Fenway, Faneiul Hall, Copley, Kendall when dad was in grad school.

Linds and I knew all stop-names, and the way the train slows (still) as it rounds into the Harvard Station - same as in 5th grade, as when Linds was in 3rd.

This afternoon in the familiar tunnels, emerging by the fenway, then entering the turned-inwards beauty of the Gardner's central courtyard, passing through the damask shrouded rooms, seeing a collection piled and hung one above another, so passionately gathered, with such an aesthetic pack-rat's eye, seeing all that one life might achieve and then share, and - well - I was alone.

Alone with my very big news and the ring and, in my old home town, no mom or Linds to share with.
Alone without my R to enjoy all the beauty with me either.

So - amidst so very much beauty - I was a little sad.

And, now in Harvard Square, I'm nostalgic again.

I feel mom + linds so much here - across from the Border Cafe, at the head of the alley where the COOP's lingerie department faced off with academic lady's clothing. Charette seems to be no longer - something chain-ish in its place. Lots more banks, Brighams gone for eons, Newbury Comics staff still smoking on the back stairs of the Garage.

C - channeling the missing in Harvard Square (lecture's in an hour)

Scholar mom

Mom and Dad drafting PhDs (on legal pads and manual typerwriters, mom handwriting each cedilla and umlat in the final manuscript), Sea Island circa 1980.

Tomorrow I'm in Boston for the 3rd annual lecture honoring mom.

This year, the lectureship's brought over a Sir John Boardman, Professor of Classical Archeology and Art at Oxford. His ambitious topic (right up mom's alley) is: "Greeks Going East: Exploring the impact of Classical Greek Art in the footsteps of Alexander the Great, past Persia into Central Asia and north India."

(ahem)

A copy of Mom’s PhD sits on a not-prominent shelf in my library, atop books on Seljuk portals and Ottoman architecture whose spines are familiar from childhood but whose content remain an utter mystery. Needless, maybe, to state here: I never read mom’s thesis (it goes immediately to my bedside stack after I post this though), but its tenor infused the first decade of my life. That caravanserai, madrese, anatolia, alexander the great, persia... are all romantic words to me is mom’s doing.

In 1978 mom and dad – doing unrelated phDs simultaneously - won Fulbrights to do doctoral research: mom's would take her to Turkey's far corners, Dad’s to Worli villages and amongst India’s rural poor.

Lindsey and I were enrolled in school in Ankara for the year but occasionally pulled early, or delivered late, so we could join mom on the road - 3 ladies traveling Anatolian Turkey in a brown Citroen whose magic hydraulic suspension drew crowds wherever we went.

Absorbing little of the actual scholarship – neither Linds nor I’d go on to read in ancient Arabic or debunk some Seljuk theory - we did develop a taste for turquoise tiles and a nostalgic familiarity with dirt courtyards, the dank smell of bats (so that the deeper recessed of Angkor Wat felt familiar), the rules of Ramadan and candies of Eid, the color of a poppy field. Mom would photograph with one of the Minoltas slung around her neck (slide and b+w), measure portal widths and carving depths, while Linds and I squatted, or sang what John Denver we knew, or traded with local kids.



C (nostalgic, thankful, inspired)

Mom

On 10/02/2003 I was upstate with Rod looking after mom and, as we prepared a bath for her, she slipped away. I remember that outside it was beautiful. What I know of fall foliage will hinge on the golds of that day.

There was more to it than that - more pain and messiness. ALS is without sympathies, progresses relentlessly. In mom's case it swpet through her and had claimed her entirely within a year.

But once she's gone, it doesn't have her any longer of course. She goes immediately back to being ours and our memories (31 years) supercede the just one year that ALS had mom. Like a brief affair, we can sweep that one away and try to forget the mockery it made of her independence, grace and will.

But how to now remember my mom.
And Linds who's left too.

I know they're not all gone.
Some faith in me assumes they are together.

And, honestly, sometimes I'm not sure the reality of their absence here has quite reached me. They're still alive - never ever dead - in my dreams. They still have opinions, would weigh-in on matters if just given a voice.

So sometimes it's like the two most important women in my life simply stepped off stage and behind curtain. In the photo here - taken on Lake Van in Turkey - mom and Linds hold hands. Imagine that, like scuba divers, they just fell backwards together and so not visible but still there. They don't happen to be in this scene but will return for others. My jerry-rigged version of eternal being makes it bearable for me.

C

But of the wedding

I shouldn't be all gloom and lost cities.

R and I had wonderful weekend at cousin Annie, and cousin-in-law-now (yes?) Taylor's wedding in Santa Barbara-the-beautiful.


Our family gathered, the cousins had cousin time finally in happy circumstances, the bride was aglow from within and her groom handsome, the setting the stuff of fantasy and Hudson on hand to love.

I have photos to prove all the above, and tell more stories.

C

Sharp dressed H

Chad and Hudson flew from Dallas to be at the wedding.

Chad -
single father of an almost-5-month old,
full-time at a job that takes him to lands beyond the pale of standard business,
and widower of less than a year -

travelled some 5 hours (in coach) with his tiny son to be at the wedding.

Chad packed their bags - Hudson's with an outfits for each event (photos to follow). He'd kitted a diaper bag for eventualities. Along with his own suit and tie, he'd brought Hudson's onesie-version. Then, together, the two came west to stay in a hotel room that Linds had booked in early April.
(Linds had already arranged for a crib in the room.)

After people ask after Hudson, most ask how Chad/the dad is doing.
I answer some combination of coping and sad.

But what I really should say is:
Chad and Hudson are making it through, and forward, every single day. Hudson's healthy and handsome and a total joy.
And Chad is the man to thank and also celebrate.

C - sending my love southwards to the two exceptionally well dressed men

Going west to see the man

Hudson's already there (as is dad, most of the family).

Which means that Hudson, age just short of 5 months, gets Santa Barbara on his been-to list before his west-coast-illiterate aunt.

Not so many years from now maybe Hudson can act as my advance team.

In the meantime, spoke with Dad and got the debrief on weather, family, running paths and Hudson himself.

R and I off madly early tomorrow for cousin Annie's wedding to Taylor.

C - miles to go before I see my nephew

Back, to Hudson

The beautiful boy and dad Chad, captured.

There was a teaser photo of Hudson - serene and B+W-timeless on Chad's hand - that I posted a few weeks back.

Since, Chad's shared the whole series of Hudson at 3 months and they're here.



The photos are by Melissa Wollitz, a friend of Chad's (Hudson's too it seems by his photogenic calm): her website.



With many thanks to Melissa for capturing,
to Chad for documenting,
and to Hudson for going ever-stronger.

Love to all - C (with R, back last night from Bulgaria)

Reporting to Linds

If Hudson's 4 month birthday was a few weeks back, then so was the anniversary of Linds' death.

When R and I were still on the runway yesterday, awaiting a gate for our plane and feeling bad for ourselves, amidst grayness and drizzle, to be returning from holiday, I called dad.

As one of a pair of daughters, I was the un-communicating one. Lindsey had taken the role, even more so since mom's death, of reminding me a little before birthdays, anniversaries: call grandpop, father's day Court - get on it. With a phone perennially Quiet, I'm an emailer who needs admonishing to emerge from my tightly-held circle.

Like we do in family, I fell into and filled that role. Dad would no more expect me to check-in on landing then send an easter card, or remember his and sarah's wedding anniversary.

That's what Linds was for.

So, checking in with dad from the runway yesterday was a new jolt.

I was telling dad that R and I were home, safe on US tarmac.
But, as I filled Dad in on Bulgaria, and he on life in the last week, Hudson's movement and Thanksgiving plans, I had to stop myself from asking how Linds had been.

She would have been proud of me, checking in with Dad. But her training's been turned around, absorbed and needs an outlet.

I want to check in with Linds now, and tell her about Bulgaria. Last year I could.

C

At 4

Catching myself up on Hudson posts.
And missing the guy.
All reports excellent though but feeling some slight sadness, guilt that he's barelling into his life and I'm missing the moments.

This from Chad, on Hudson's 4th Month doctor appoitnemnt:

He was very cute and smiled a ton for the doctor. He can now start eating rice cereal if he is willing to. At 6 months, he will start on fruits and veggies. It should be exciting to see his first real feeding.

He's still growing well. He is 25 inches long and weighs 13 lbs 5 oz.

I guessed 13 lbs 8 oz...of all the guesses, dad won. Even the nanny underguessed. He was 50% in height and 25% in weight, so that is consistent with previous appts.



C - proud aunt of a rice-cereal-ready (if willing) infant

(Photos: Hudson attending a party and being kissed by cousin Bailey)

Hudson, the boy

This just from Chad. Chad's hand and the gorgeous photo - of which there are more - is by Melissa Wollitz. Her work is here.

He reports:
"Nanny is working out fine.I think we've come to some common ground on hours and responsibilities -- always a give and take. Weekends are so hectic from the time I get home from work on Friday until Monday morning. I am doing the evening feedings now although they are now stretched out to almost the whole night. He's on a pretty good schedule.

Hudson is maturing so quickly...he is so aware now of sounds and voices and smiles all the time. He is looking so cute too and finally is getting a non-infant looking face..."

C - missing

Catch-Up

I've not been a concientious blogger this week.

R's apartment has, inexplicably, fallen off the wireless grid. R's neighbors are keeping their own networks uneccesarily inaccessible.

So I'm back at Starbucks, where t-mobile's having its own flaky week.

It's not that it's so very hot that everyone's already pulled a Paris-in-August. But it might as well be, and people who look lost on subway platforms, wearing white sneakers and abroad in fanny-packs, are outnumbering the usual city types.

Anyway, as soon as T-Mobile, obliges, will post some very recent Hudson pictures to sustain us through these dog days.

Hudson has a new nanny as of last week. His first nanny showing neither experience nor that stamina needed to properly care for the little man, has already been replaced by a huge improvement of a nanny sho speaks many languages.

From Chad:
"The new nanny is working out great. She's French Italian by birth and speaks spanish, italian and english."

C - toasting the multi-lingual man of 3 months

He rolls, he bathes

The very latest from our man in Dallas. Though he's owning new moves so fast that his current role may be obsolete.

(he may be flipping)



And lord knows, he'll outgrown the kitchen sink in just days.



C - upstate and, amazingly for a place where cell-phones don't connect and vonage draws a blank, utterly on-line.

Inheriting Grandma

Everyone who spoke Saturday mentioned it, how Grandma gave.

And she had a whole lot to give.

Saturday morning the girl cousins and aunt snooze went through Grandma's jewelry (posthumous giving).

Grandma had had her "good stuff" stolen from Meadowlark Hill sometime in the '60s (there's a story but I can't recall and she'd have been the best to tell it).
Anyway, what Grandma wore for the next 40-some years were adornments more spectacularly Grandma than whatever could have come before. What brooches and strands and cocktail rings and charm bracelets lacked in broad-market value, they trumped in Grandma-exuberance points.

Lots of bright colors, lots of avian and vegetal-themed pieces, cloisonné mixed in with tourmalines, enameled Harvard clip-in earrings beside a triple-strand of not-quite pearls.

And since each was familiar for its place in our Grandma memories, many prominent on grandma's bosom, they were trips unto themselves.

We all wore pieces to the service that evening - Grandma's giving just keeping on...

C - old enough to have her first cocktail ring

And we gathered

That's all the cousins, Snooze, Tommy stuck back in there, plus Hudson, with Grandpop fronting at Ocean Forest, Sea Island this last Saturday.

R and I returned Sunday eve. If you can say you had an amazing time during a weekend spent mourning a great lady's passing, then we did.

The few days of cousins gathered, time beside Grandpop going through photos and Grandma's iconic jewelry (cocktail rings and enormous brooches), thick-hot Sea Island heat and funny smelling water, mingling amongst moredistant Forster cousins and friends of the G's, telling Grandma stories, making sandwiches and playing RumiQ with/against) Aunt Snooze - well, it wasn't horrible.



I'll post pictures which will do better work of communicating what was good.

And I'll post our words too from the memorial. Grandpop had asked Tenley (eldest Stephenson daughter), me (eldest/only Pyle), and Andrew (eldest Gates) to speak. We managed, i think, to bring Grandma back to life for a few moments and though there were plenty of overlap (congo bars and glue guns got lots of play), we roamed widely in our tales.

Okay - pictues to post and non-blog life to live.

C

Grandpop

It'd be treacle if I praised Grandpop (and Grandpop's pants) as I'd like to - too muc a blog love-in. Plus, everyone who hasn't yet met Grandpop might mob the poor man's quiet life in Sea Island.

So, a few notes on Grandpop but no street address - that's it.



Grandpop retains the gentle North Carolina accent and manners of his youth; a southern gentleman (it seems to me) minus the red-state politics.

Grandpop's kept a factual diary every day since highschool. When he passes, it will be donated to the Exeter Library.

(He's maintained the same pant-waste-size since the same year. I'm going to guess no bigger than 34".)

Grandpop and Grandma addressed one another as "Gorgeous" and "Handsome". They were married for 65 years and he still blushes when referring to her figure.

Grandpop lunches weekly on St Simons with a group calling themselves the ROMEOS: Retired Old Men Eating Out.

He mixes plaids with plaids, seersucker with like-stripes. (Grandma shared a love of colors, patterns.)


(Loves his great grandchidlren too.)



When asked by dad, recalled that they drank Dubonnets and ginger ale in at the Shah Abbas Hotel in Isfahan, Iran in 1975.

C (Hoping our own era produces like-gentleman.)

Sharing Grandma

This is, mostly, what I wrote/said for Grandma. I followed Tenley (eldest cousin, she spoke fluently, intimately), and was followed by Andrew (eldest/only boy of the first 7 cousins, who spoke warmly and hysterically).


For Grandma
July 15 2006 at Ocean Forest, Sea Island
I know I was asked to speak not because I'm the eldest - representative of a too-fast dwindling Pyle/Brown/Newhall contingent - but because I was (you all know this), always Grandma's favorite.

Now I'm sure Andrew will follow me up here with a counter-claim. In fact, I think each one of the cousins, given a chance at the podium, would repeat the same claim – clear in their memories and utterly authentic - in which they were indeed Grandma's true favorite. Memories in which they were the center of Grandma's universe, the projects launched together, the meals and congo bars prepared, the wreaths assembled and the garden time shared were, all, intimately , tailored by Grandma to that cousin. Each Grandma episode was effortlessly custom-spun by a woman whose warmth, intelligence, imagination, creativity and life force swooped up each cousin in turn, hugged her/his interests in close, inspired them outwards and pushed them on.

Grandma nurtured each of us in turn by egging on our own, oftentimes peculiar, passions. Always a regular field-side at the grandchildren’s sports events, Grandma thought nothing of standing in the chilled, holiday-empty Exeter hockey rink as I completed lap number zillion of the ice. My sole spectator, alone ice-side, Grandma cheered me on as, one arm loose and the other tucked behind my back, I rounded the rink once more, pursuing my Eric Heyden dream (in figure skates).

Grandma was also a strong proponent of empowerment via the right gadgets - herself an early adopter of the microwave, the George Foreman Grill, the Cuisinart and drip-dry sheets. She taught us all how to wield a glue gun (for which I remain grateful) and, on graduating high school, gave each one of us a plying/wire-cutting/hammering/wrenching tool that would, she said, see us through any college need.

With my own parents newly grandparents themselves, I've been thinking about the title, and the role, for which my own might have written the book.

Fortunately, though, this isn't a eulogy for Grandpop and Grandma. We can celebrate the team that's been split up, and remark as we often do in the wonder that was their loving and enduring marriage/partnership, but we are here to celebrate Grandma for she was, as she taught each one of us cousins to be, first and foremost an individual.

Dancing well around the strictures of her time, Grandma moved natively into disciplines and passions. She invested so much of her wonderful “self” into her “projects” that they became parts of the Grandma entity - unimaginable as separate interests. Grandma’s indoor gardening, wreath-making, Chinese history studying (and snuff bottle collecting), decorating, curating and group-organizing were no more “hobbies” than Grandpop's post-Dupont work with alma-maters Exeter then Harvard was simply a way to pass his later years.

I've lost, we've all lost, 3 women and 3 generations in a madly short span of 4 years. My mother Nancy, sister Lindsey, now Grandma. Hoping not to sound flippant: if it's possible to have peace with a death, then Grandma's has been by far the easiest of those three to bear; not only because hers was a long life and well-lived, but because the gifts Grandma gave so fluently and wholly through all of our lives have meant that my Grandma-appreciating has been going on for some time.

And what gives me greatest comfort now, in Grandma's final passing, is that each day I feel a little bit more of Grandma coming out from me – as if (and this may be hubris) my pores are breathing out a Grandma-essence.

For some time, on vacation with R in Antigua last New Years, trolling the rough-edges of my wilderness-garden in upstate New York, I've been channeling Grandma without naming her. Squatting on our hotel's beach to sift sea shells, marvel at driftwood, then bring the lot back home in baggies (as I did again last week with Maine rocks), setting out the bird feeders and following the progress of the finches, the easy glamour of the cardinal and the noisy work of the woodpecker (studying the books Grandma has given), assiduously reading my pruning book then wandering my woodland with trowel and clippers in hand, collecting sea glass, pressing flowers and identifying trees as we had at the Arnold Arboretum, buying my first sewing machine some months back...

Grandma runs through me, through each of us.

Often, I find that when I like myself the best, and am getting the purest pleasure from whatever little venture I've launched on, I'll realize, with a start, that there's Grandma again.

CTP

All Hudson

Hudson:
can't talk
just manages to keep his own head aloft,
rolls left from tummy center,
arches when he's filling his diaper,
dribbles white gook hours after feedings,
screams,
cries real tears,
pees aloft during changing,
fills out a onesie,
sometimes sleeps through the night, and sometimes doesn't,
stares,
finds calm in the treetops,
prefers outside to in,
puts up with the baby Bjorn,
doesn't get goosebumps,
mostly likes baths,
and has taken all of our hearts and clenched them in his tiny hands.

And he's looking a lot like Lindsey these days. It's hard not to think there must be reason in there, answers and some wisdom.

Here's to the man who kept 9 adults in thrall.

C

Sea Island with Linds

A long time ago in our mom-made dresses.

I travel south in a few hours and we'll say our official goodbyes to Grandma tomorrow afternoon. I'll be back here by Sunday eve.

So many places from my childhood and goodbyes this year. And then the big hello to Hudson. Ooosh. Fate's are busy and time-outs few.

C

Women we've lost

Lindsey and Grandma, celebrating Grandpop's 90th in Sea Island last year.

Others have losses, these happen to be ours.

Grandma passed away last week. Grandpop was by her side (he'd been for 65 years) and Snooze and John, Susanna and Keith were there as well.



We'll gather as a family in Sea Island this weekend to celebrate Grandma, check in with dear Grandpop and provide everyone with some fine Hudson time.

(Back from Maine last night - better part of trip spent on Bangor then Boston runways.)

Love to all

C

Hudson's firsts

Scenes from Hudson's first:
boat trip (to tiny Islesford aboard Sea Princess)/
lobster boats and traps up-close/
presence at table while others ate lobster with bibs/
encounter with vehement mosquitos waylaid by aunt/
view of a sunset over Seal Harbor and Northeast.

As with all of Hudson's firsts to date, he was mostly magnificent and attracted admirers.

C