There are so many fabulous memories – where to begin?
How about with Al and Miner in the garage building a Turnabout from a kit? The project went in fits and starts. (Al must have been shuttling back and forth from Illinois -- or was this after the move to RI?) As I recall, construction took so that the boat got a newer number, but finally the "Minnie," painted a cheerful yellow, was launched.
Then I can see Jeffie, Richie, and me -- all barely teenagers riding in the backseat of a car. Al is driving and has turned down Bridgewater Street towards Lobster Cove in Annisquam. A pretty girl is walking up the hill. Al stops, rolls, down the window, and asks her, "Excuse me, but my boys back there are very shy. Could you give them some suggestions about how they can talk with young ladies?" The fact that I remember exactly where this took place speaks volumes about how embarrassing that was -- which was the whole point, of course.
And I remember a damp voyage on the "Hoqua," the end of one summer, from Rockport to Rhode Island. The weather had been lousy for a couple of days, so departure was postponed, but finally we took off at night and in the fog, too, I think. (This in days before GPS or radar on pleasure boats.) Together with Miner, Jeff, Rich, and Al, of course, it was my first sea-going adventure. When we put into the Harbor of Refuge on the Cape Cod Canal, I felt like a real mariner.
Then there are memories of events that took place long before I was born but which were retold so often it seems like I was there: Al (and Freddie Steele?) supposedly bursting through a flimsy schoolroom wall at Roger Ascham. Or Al getting caught in the 1938 hurricane on his way back to White Plains. And the family's cross-country trips -- which must have been a hoot. Also, of course, the picnics and backyard games that were blessedly caught on camera – and that remain a family tradition today.
For all of that, though, it isn’t just specific events I recall. It’s also Al’s presence, his engagement with life. Even when he was sitting down, he wasn’t sitting still. He’s a guy who prodded his grandchildren to think about their lives, the own future, and that of the world. He’s someone who wrote his memoirs, but then this spring looked at his life in a new light. “I’ve been very fortunate, especially when it comes to family” he told lots of people. “Isn’t it interesting,” he added, “how sometimes you can see things from another perspective?” (“I guess there’s hope for us all, Uncle Al,” I answered.)
When Candace and I visited for the last time, barely a month ago, he received us in his bedroom. It would be short stay, we’d been told, but we ended up talking for more than an hour. Al was eager to hear more about Candace's job, what exactly she did, especially the policy and personnel problems that she was confronting.
He listened thoughtfully, offered advice, and then said, "I love a challenge.” And so he did. Al had resilience in business and in his personal life, always bouncing back, always focused on whatever new might be coming next. What an inspiration for everyone!
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