Jackie Melchior: Remembering Booie

Jackie with Al's Daughter Marcie in November, 2007

Jackie Melchior, a native Californian, came east in 1935 to visit her cousins Al, Miner and Erma. Though she shortly returned to the San Francisco Bay Area, she became a life-long friend and close confident to both Al and Erma. I remember so many conversations with Erma around Jackie and the family legacy in California, I know how much Jackie meant to her--and in so many talks with Al, he would really brighten up at the mention of Jackie, or when he would pick up the phone and Jackie was on the other line. So I know how much she meant to the both of them!

Jackie shares:
Remembering Booie:

I first met Albert Allen in early fall of 1935. Seventeen years old, I had just graduated from high school and had never been out of California. I was a little hick; he was two years older, one of the highly sophisticated eastern cousins who knew so much of the world. They called him Booie, the name his big sister, one year older than he, used for“Brother” when they were babies. I remember him lying on his bed after school listening to the stock market reports on the radio, I think even back then he was investing his allowance wisely and learning how to handle money.

Two incidents I remember vividly. One was my 18th birthday when I became an adult. Everybody gave me presents, but I only remember one of them. Erma, who had, on the day before, become a real adult of 21, was allowed to drive us to the City for tea on the tavern of the green. The law of Mass. permitted me to drink alcohol, so I was allowed to have my first drink—I chose from the menu an old fashioned which sounded safe, but on an empty stomach made me quite tipsy. Everybody said you’ll be okay when you get something to eat, so we went back to White Plains singing joyously. But I had nothing to eat until Booie brought me his present, half a cherry pie, at about four o’clock. We sat on the floor in my bedroom and ate it.

Couple hours later I went to the very special feast Minnie and Erma had created for me and I had trouble pretending to enjoy it on top of an old fashioned and a quarter of a cherry pie.

The other was after a nice dinner the Allens had prepared for another couple who were going with them to the Met. After they left us kids sat for a while around the table, laughing and talking. I waved my hand at something and knocked over my long stemmed goblet of water. I was mortified, wanted to die or at least hide under the table, when Booie said:
“Look what Jacky did! She did this:” and he knocked his goblet over, making the puddle on the table worse. Turning my gaffe into a huge joke that had everybody laughing.

So I loved Booie, like I guess everybody who knew him did. We will miss him, but his spirit lives on, for me every birthday when I think for a moment about that cherry pie as I blow out an increasing number of candles.


Here's Marcie's favorite picture of Jackie. In this picture, Jacky stands next to an old painting of her grandmother Butler, in front of her beautiful portrait by Erma, and near the wooden penguin door-stop given to her as a(strange?) going-away to college gift from Al's mom, Erma Revoir.

Susan: Father-in-Law

Al was the closest thing as to having my own Dad that I have ever known.

Just recently Al told me he remembered the day we met (over 30yrs.ago) and that he liked me instantly. You have to know it was mutual. Over the years and especially after Roie's passing we became closer and closer. I got to know his "quirks", enjoyed our talks, took most of his advice and best of all shared an unconditional love. He was the Go-To-Guy. If there was a fire, he was there with the hose, basement flooded, he's the guy with the bucket, but sick, and he wouldn't come near you with a 10 foot pole. Germs, you know?

Jeff and I so enjoyed being in Naples with Al and being able to swim with him in his pool. We would be in there for at least an hour at a time and he was the best swimmer (I'm the worst). He would hold court with the other swimmers and sunbathers and always engage them in conversation. When we left we knew where they were from, what the did, how many kids they had and where the older lady bought her kookie swimcap that "Dottie would look just great in". He would leave on his little scooter, towel around his neck, a box of Kleenex in the basket, a cap on his head and home to Dottie. I will miss him so much.
Happy Trails my friend,
Love,
Susan

Pumpky and Bapa

Pumpky! A loud booming voice rang through the house. I abruptly left Bo and Dot in the kitchen and headed to his room thinking that Larry had called me for something only to find out that Al had heard my voice and wanted me front and center. It was just three days before he died. So strong, so much in command of his life and those around him even at the end.

Actually Al will never leave me. I know that for certain since my parent's and Roie's passing. They are always there, just over my left shoulder, urging me on, giving me guidance, helping me be a better wife, parent, friend. Case in point: August 29th, 7:30 am, 7th hole, 7 wood at the tee and I exclaimed "This one is for Al"- 1st drive and I hit the green within a few feet of the pin. I could feel Al cheering me on.

I feel truly blessed to be a part of the Allen family all these years - such zest for life, such honesty, such love.

Bapa's last words to me were "never vote for a person who has voted for war. Global Peace, Global Peace, that is what is important." And while we didn't always agree with one another, in fact he loved to "get me going" - on this one he is right on.

Love you Bapa!


(Pumpky and La at their Jamestown House)

Marcie: Remembrance of Father

As Father got older, how could I not get more and more impressed by him? He didn't get angry or bitter at life( for long) and acknowledged what a wonderful life he'd been given. He had two
beautiful wives, loving (if not perfect ) children, and a constant interest and concern for what the world was coming to.

Where did that energy and genuine interest for family and human affairs come from, and how did he sustain it?

Was he really interested in birds, or was it his way to connect with me that he always reported new bird sightings/behaviors from Florida? With Rich he might talk about the hubris of the current presidency; with Jeff the beloved Indians; with Lisa art and family; with Larry finances and paintings. He was genuinely interested in all these things, and informed as well, but I think a lot had to do with his aptitude in engaging people. He really liked assessing people and
their experiences.

As a child, he was always the voice of authority and the one to reckon with with, Roie being the one to give comfort and understanding. But that was the period, and I also remember dancing
on his feet( that was glorious) and holding onto his back when we dived into the waves at Good Harbor Beach and his hitting the tennis balls to me over and over again, trying to help me with my strokes.

He introduced me to photography and printing, which I enjoyed for years, stock analysis which I'm still learning, he gave me binoculars, cameras, and some lucite sculptures I'm still not quite
sure of.

The intimidating part of being a child of his was that he really presumed you could do all the things he had: learn business operations, understand salesmanship, actually hit a golf ball, drive
without without ever once having an accident!, swim, sail, thread an 8 mm projector, fiberglass a dent in the hull, and "listen to your mother!"

He was so generous, it became difficult to accept. Why didn't he spend more money on himself? Well, it turned out to be simple; he had more fun giving it away.

And what I learned about my Father in his last years, and with wonderful Dot, is that he wanted to have fun! To meet new people, to talk about new ideas ( and his ideas of course) to engage with his grandchildren and to try to alert more people to need for a return to integrity in governance.

He really was a remarkable personality and I know the loss of his presence will only heighten with the years and the awful first holidays. And he was a FOP, a Friend of Phil, which I will always cherish!

This is one of the classics many of us have seen before, but on the back father wrote:"Can yoo ever believe we were that young. This was in Rockport in the summer of 1937- I was at Wm & Mary Love, Dad PS not fair- we should our life at the top- or should we-" I think the way he lived all his years, with the loving support of Dottie, Erma, Jacki, the Eckloffs and others was that you make the most of the years you're given, even when it's hard!

-Marcie

Marcie and Peg (Phil's Mom) and AL


Another view of Marcie and Phil's wedding in 1970, with Al in the foreground.

Rich: “boy, do they do a job.”

(Here Rich Allen presents an autographed photograph of pitcher Bob Feller, Al's favorite ever Cleveland Indians player!)


Dad’s favorite thing: Someone who does a good job.

Dad’s favorite saying – as a compliment: “boy, do they do a job.”

I have the memory of one scene, it was around Boston somewhere, in1957 or 58, that is so vivid: I’d been playing hooky in the 7th grade, as the situation at L.R. Peck Jr. High was so unacceptable, to me, that I was seriously thinking of leaving home and becoming a fur trapper, like Daniel Boone. I’d go off in the woods on school days to figure out how is there a future for me out there. Tiny Martin, the Principle, was inspired enough to bring over Fur Fish and Game magazines, but nothing seemed to being doing the trick for dad, who was busy trying to support the family and could do without this new problem and just wanted me to go to school and act normal.

Tiny suggested that Dad take me with him to work during the school day, so I could see for myself what work was like. So one morning after a snow Dad and I drove from RI up toward Boston as he made sales calls on appliance stores and restaurants, where he moonlighted selling background music. There was more snow near Boston but it was warm, as I remember, we had the car windows open, so I guess it was early spring. I forgot what he was doing, exactly, but I mostly waited in the car. Once I went with him into where someone signed something for dad, then offered him a cigarette, then offered me one. Dad interrupted, saying, “no, no, I hope he won’t be doing that for a while.”

Heading home we were at an intersection and I look to the right at a man in his car at the light, his window is open and he’s looking at us. Just then a truck crosses in front and sends a huge pile of dirty slush right up into the man’s face and drives off. The man was swearing and yelling back at the truck, brushing the slush from his face. Dad was laughing at the swearing man and thought it was the funny thing he’s ever seen. Later, he tried to describe what made him laugh - it wasn’t the swearing. Almost home, he was still shaking his head, saying “that poor guy.” I’ve asked him if he remembered this a few times, but he has no recollection of it. Another time we were talking of our relationship in those days and he got a hurt look and said “you threw stones at my car.” I vaguely remember being mad and picking up stones from the drive way and throwing them at his car as he drove away from me. Neither of these incidences seems important, but they must have been, because we remembered them.

Bo will get off his Ass

I recently had the unorthodox pleasure of reading Bapa’s, Al’s, memoirs. He had suggested I edit it. This task was, and is for the time being, too daunting, but I had the privilege of reading it and marking points of interest, of which there were many. To loosely quote one relevant such passage, “I have a secret hope that after I die I will live on in the subconscious minds of my grandchildren, so I can help guide them in the right direction.” Horror movies have been made about such possibilities, but I feel that this hope of his is in many ways inevitable, and I know that, though in my personal case I don’t really want to expose him to such sordidness, he has found home in all of us.

From the few times that I saw him, it seems to me that Bapa lived the last few months of his life in a way that should make us all proud – straightforwardly and with a strange and, yes, in many way new positivism that in no way masked his concerns and reflection (there was one point that he greeted my mom, “PUMPKY!!”, with such a sincere, spontaneous, and booming energy, that it actually stunned me).

I love you Bapa, and I will do my best to get off my ass.

Matt: Remembering Al

(Al, Cassie, Jamie, Marcie, Matt and Dot)

There is a definite evolution to the relationship you have with your grandparents. For me, as a young child grandparents were these figures that floated in and out of your life, spoiled you, and were relative pushovers. As you grow, grandparents continue to spoil you, dote on you, but you only view grandparents through the lens of their relationship with you and your family. Eventually, you realize they are not simply "grandpa/Bapa" or "grammy/granma", but individuals with their own lives, experiences, and stories. And Al certainly had an abundance of stories.

We only have four grandparents. On my father's side I never knew my grandfather, while my paternal grandmother is one of the strongest people I will ever know. I feel that I have fewer strong memories of Roie than perhaps Katie, Peter, Ted & Sara, who are a few years older than me. I don't think I was old enough to appreciate her as an individual, although I have memories of her as a loving grandmother.

So it was both a relative surprise and a pleasure for me to see how my relationship with Al grew over the past decade. In high school I went out to lunch with Al, who told me he was investing a certain amount of money for me in the stock market, but I couldn't touch it until I was 35. We went through which stocks he was investing in and why, and the basics of how to play the market. But imagine my consternation - 35! - that's like 18 years (basically a lifetime!) away.

So, like most teenagers I mostly ignored the investments. However, Al had cracked my exterior, made me think a little, and gotten me somewhat interested in this investment thing. His story that day stuck with me. Al had each received a certain amount of money from their father. Although he was young, Al had invested this windfall for the long haul.

Fast forward 5 years or so. Thanks to Al I had a significant nest egg, and being mostly ignorant and self-consumed, at least I hadn't frittered it all away. I came out of college with a degree, and a beautiful woman that is the love of my life. Jamie and I met with Al - Jamie loved the way he welcomed her into the family, I was sorry I disappointed him -- "You should have sold it all in 2000" he told me!

But our relationship continued to grow, and I will always be indebted to all not only for the financial place he put me in - he helped put me through college, a bond he purchased supplemented my purchase of Jamie's engagement/wedding ring, and helped us purchase our house - but the important messages he shared. Work hard, play fair, think big, and love your family.

Jamie and I were able to see him just the weekend before he passed away. He told us how proud he was of us and as was often the case with Al, more important than his words were his actions. He asked Dot and my mom to take updated photos of me & Jamie and put them on his computer. And when some nurses came in to talk to him he told them he was fine and just wanted to see his grandson.

There was no great secret to life he told me. Just work hard, and stick with her, he pointed at Jamie. As we were leaving, he called me in again. His final words to me "Don't root for the Yankees!". One final promise I am sure I can live up to.

Sorry to go on so long, but I felt its important to share these remembrances. I have included a few photos from the Allen Family Olympics: Part Deux. Photo 1 - Al, Marcie & Dot. Photo 2 - Peter shows Al the prizes for the Allen Olympics - framed photos of Al you can find in this blog.

- Matt

Another view of Marcie's wedding with Al in the foreground.

Jeff Allen: On Al as a businessman

(Al's Avid picture)
(Marcie says this shot reminds her of LaLa--I'm not sure--but what a SHOT!)

Dad the Businessman……Jeff

I had the great privilege of working for and with my Dad at Avid Corporation from 1971 to 1981, and got the opportunity to see what made him so successful. He was truly an outstanding leader and business person.

First, he always had the confidence that he would succeed and the intelligence and focus to do so.

Secondly, he had the drive to do so. After getting tossed out of the College William and Mary in 1938 for bad grades and spending a summer recovering from the back that he had injured playing football there, Dad didn't have a choice. He needed to find a job, but more than that he wanted to prove himself. Getting married and having so many children at an early age, just reinforce his need and the drive to succeed.

Next, he got the right experiences early in his working career to prepare him for the challenges of running a successful business later on. The unbelievable challenges of running the M&A Manufacturing company with his older brother Miner at the age of 25, then his experiences with DuMont television prepared him well.

All the above made him willing to take a chance on starting a business.

He always thought big, not small.

He had great people skills. He would let people attack problems their own way, run their own show, thereby gaining their commitment to the job and their loyalty to him and the company.

Really cared about his employees.

He liked to have fun on the job and kept things light.

He was unpretentious and didn't have to be the center of attention.

A person of great integrity. Honest and straightforward.

And finally, perhaps most of all, he was an suberb entrepreneur. Consider the Amana plan, Moodmaster, Allencraft, Travelab, the Aviddesk, and all the innovative ideas he had in passenger entertainment.

Dad was a wonderful model for me and I miss him greatly.

For a timeline summary of his work career, look on the right side of this webblog.

Below please find a testimonial from one of Al's most loyal employees

My Memories of Mr. Allen
Claudia Goglia

It was the spring of 1968 and I was graduating from Bristol High School. I was 18 years of age and beginning my career at Avid Corporation. In my initial role, I served as Secretary to the Director of Engineering. Soon thereafter, Mr. Allen's secretary had left for maternity leave. I can still remember the day when he called me into his office and asked if I would like to work for him. I was so pleased to be offered the opportunity of working for such a fine man who was Chairman of the Board.

As the years passed by, I had the extreme pleasure of knowing this man not only as my boss, but also as my friend. I admired Mr. Allen greatly and had the utmost respect for the way he conducted business, as well as the fine manner in which he treated people. He was such a kind-hearted and generous man to so many and he was highly respected by all who knew him. He was a wonderful employer!

Through those many years, I also had the pleasure of knowing his family whom he loved so much, and I remember how pleased he was when Jeff joined Avid.

Mr. Allen was an extraordinary man and I have never forgotten that time in my life so many years ago. He will be greatly missed by his family and friends and he will forever hold a very special place in my heart!

Lala on Al as a Father

(Lala, Reed, Susan, Roie, Al--I am pretty sure this is at one of my first lacrosse games at Tabor Academy, about 1988!)

You would think that we would learn, but men just don’t seem to. Time after time in every generation we repeat our father’s mistake. Being a Dad is arguably the most important thing that a man may do, but there is no preparation. Harvard should shut down it’s business school (look what that has brought us!- sorry Mike ) and start a School of Parenting.

You would think that I would have learned from my own upbringing, and my involvement (joyous!) in Jeff’s first clutch of kids, but I didn’t. It is so much easier being an Uncle! Men are not prepared for true love, that moment when the little hand grasps his smallest finger. Women, at least in my happy experience, are prepared.

Responsibility! That is a father’s task; to provide and prepare the children for the world that exists beyond the Mother’s arms. Somehow, life must be distilled into a lesson, a lesson which has no end and an “A” not in the cards. Dad did this, Jeff did, I do, especially to our sons whom we love so much- and often sorely test that love - in an attempt to make them all the better. No doubt this is why Bo has taken up with Zen, which, as I understand it, allows that we are all perfect in ourselves.

I remember at one period in my life when I was still into dinosaurs and science and not physically active enough that he gave me a book, “Push Yourself” which urged young men to take up the pugilistic sport. Not for me! But he kept on trying and brought me to love tennis and all racquet sports.

Dad was not content to improve his own children, but really hit his stride with his grandchildren who were urged on by the force of his personality and by well - timed capitalistic bribes! His effort to bring the grandchildren to political awareness was remarkable for a man his age, as was his embracement of the new technologies that so shape our society. By seeking to improve those about him, he so improved himself! He was growing in wisdom throughout his later years, and approached his death in a manner of which I can only characterize as in a state of grace.

Throughout his life Dad’s love was often masked in his generosity and in a self assured conviction that he was the center of the family (He is, but Mom is the lodestone). He often saw in himself the font of all success and happiness, while sometimes neglecting that we all need to feel that we have done something worthwhile on our own.

In his conviction that he could so guide and help his progeny there is a certain naivete, a certain self-centerness but also a nobility that is thrust on a man when he becomes a father. He thought he could make us all better, and he did. I am proud of him.

Thanks Dad.
Lala

Ted Allen: Remembrance of ACA

(Ted A making a toast at Al's 90th)

I am very fortunate to have been Al’s grandson, and I am grateful for his life and friendship.

From my earliest memories to my last moments with Al, he was always encouraging me to grow as a human being, to take on new challenges and to contribute the happiness and welfare of others. Lots of people give such encouragement, but few live up to the same ideals with their own actions. To the very end Al sought to grow, becoming gentler and more affectionate; to take on new challenges, penning his autobiography; and to help others, through sound advice and often generous financial support.

As strong a presence as Al was in my life, it took me a while to develop a mature appreciation of his individual qualities. Throughout my childhood and adolescence I didn’t really know Al independent of my grandmother, Roie. To me he was part of a greater entity that I knew simply as “Roie and Al.” It wouldn’t be until after her death that I began to know Al more fully.

Knowing Al as I do now, I can see experiences from my childhood that gave me my first glimpses of Al’s world and complex personality. For instance, one of my favorite places to play was Al’s library. It was a special place in the house, and playing there depended on his mood. If I had permission to play there on my many stays at the house, I would go to the library and take down huge books to spread out on the floor and read. I loved his military atlases and paintings of historic battles or events. Roie and I would also look through Al’s collection of albums and put on different operas or big band music for me to listen to while I spent hours on the floor flipping through the pages of the books. I can vividly recall the sound of the music, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the room and the smell of the wood paneling and bookshelves. The smell of the library was completely distinct from the rest of the house, which was full of bright rooms permeated with Roie’s fragrance. When Al would come home Roie would hustle me out of the room so he could get ready for guests to come over for a game of bridge. Sometimes the game would just be ending the next morning when I got up. All the late night activity just made me more curious about Al.

If most of my interaction as a child was with Roie, there were several occasions that Al sought me out by himself to encourage me to begin taking on responsibilities. When I was about six, shortly after my parents separated, I had a day off from school because of a typical New England wintry mix of snow, sleet and then rain. There were about six inches of snow before the temperature warmed enough for change the precipitation to sleet and rain. That afternoon Al drove up to visit us and came in with a gift for me: a snow shovel. He said I should try to help out my mother by shoveling the driveway. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help, because the mess on the ground was heavy and thick, too much for a six year old. But the impression it left on me was distinct and helped me begin to understand who he was, separate and apart from Roie.

When Roie died suddenly in 1989, my interaction with Al became more frequent. Shortly after her death, I stayed with Al at 482 Washington Rd. while my father and step-mother took a short trip to the Caribbean. Every night we stayed up late talking about Roie and how much we were going to miss her. It was the first time Al had shared stories of his life with Roie with me, stories he would elaborate on further over the years. Although some of it was uncomfortable to hear, it helped me understand the complexities of a man I had known all my life, but didn’t fully understand.

Over the next few years, Al gave me a lot of advice and encouragement as I tried to find my way in life. Sometimes he did it with positive support and other times he did it by calling me out on my flaws (which are many!). He was good at recognizing a problem and calling it what it was. He never beat around the bush about his opinions, and they were usually spot on.

When my first effort at college ended badly, he told me do find something I liked doing and he would help me pursue it. Knowing that I was interested in cooking, he introduced me to his friend Mo Gabe, the Chancellor at Johnson & Wales, and helped me enroll there. He also set aside some money for me for my future. Later he had some harsh words for me when I lost interest at Johnson & Wales and I used the money he had set aside for me to buy a ticket to Australia. I remember the long conversation we had at his house on North Lake Drive when I told him what I had done (I think my Dad drove me over there, saying I owed Al an explanation). Al told me I was lost and swore that he would never give me money again in his life. I walked out of there with my tail between my legs thinking I had damaged my relationship with him beyond repair. But whether he forgot what he had said or just forgave me, in the end that pledge is the only one I can think of that he never followed through on.

I like to think that Al was pleased to see what I did when I began traveling. Somehow, it got me interested in the world around me, I became excited about learning new languages, and began challenging myself to reach for bigger and better things. We corresponded throughout my travels (and I kept every one of his letters) and he seemed as excited as I was with all my new experiences. When I returned to the US nearly five years later, I worked in Boston and took classes at Harvard Extension School as I prepared to apply to Brown University. When I was accepted and I returned to Providence to live on the same street where he had owned a building years before, Al and I sat down again, this time for a more positive conversation. He told me that while he didn’t approve of my quitting on school and taking the money to get started in my travels, he was proud of the things I had done during those years and happy that I had finally found a direction. Later he would tell me, only partly in jest, “It was the best money you ever spent that wasn’t your own!”

During the last ten years, Al and I grew closer. We shared a love for baseball and our weekly phone calls always involved some mention of the Indians and the Red Sox. We talked about my work, job opportunity, love interests, and life in Washington DC—which invariably led us to the subject of politics. It was fascinating to me to watch the transformation of Al from life-long Republican to a harsh critic of George Bush. In that political evolution, Al continued to show that he practiced what he preached, growing as a person even as he neared the end of his life.

When I visited Al in Florida last December, he told me he thought the next year would be his last. I’m not sure I believed him because he still seemed so strong to me. We swam together in his pool a couple of times and he seemed vigorous, swimming laps and maintaining a conversation with me at the same time. He retold stories of his life with Roie, lectured me about the virtues of a balanced budget, and went on about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He seemed like he would keep on going forever, learning and growing as a person and always remaining true to his principles: fiscal responsibility, peace and leaving things better than you found them.

I think it is entirely appropriate that Al preferred for me and my sisters to call him by his first name. He was as much a friend as a grandfather. I will miss my friend greatly.

- Ted

Jeff Allen: Letters from AL

(for better reading, click on these to enlarge)

A moving letter to Jeff on his birthday in 1998.


Al's Last letter to his kids--August 8, 2008


A note on Katie's wedding plans in 1996


Cute Birthday card in 1991

Dot Remembers

(As told by Dot to Marcie)

Al and DorOthy (he always said he was surprised that the name had a second O) were married on May 14, 1992 after a courtship over the bridge tables and dance-floors of New England. She feels that her 16 years of marriage were like a vacation("Every day we'd get up and say: ‘What could we do today?’"); but we all marvel at the love and the care and support she gave through his decline over the year.


Al and Dot's Wedding in 1992.


She was with him every day, and when he died.

They were a good match she felt because they shared feelings of the enormity of the lost of their beloved first partners Bill and Rosemary, with whom they both chose to be laid to rest. They both loved dancing, the "American songbook," bridge, dining out and a hot cup of tea when they'd return home. They enjoyed their winters in Florida, and especially the new friendships they forged as a couple, especially with Frank and Violet Eckloff, Nancy Oden, and Tony Romano.

Dottie shared a wonderful story about when they were first dating and Al was inexcusably late for a family party—She disinvited him. When her son Billy asked why Al hadn't been at the family party as planned, she said "It's a long story." Al tried to make up for the misunderstanding by buying up an entire florists potted plants, and delivering them to her house later. When Dottie returned to the house, Billy reported: "The long story's been here!"



She also knew that Al needed his independence and privacy. For all of their marriage she'd spend one night a week at her home in Warwick. Until he was too weakened by disease, she honored his personal wishes. She remarked " He'd like to see the backside of me!"

In his last months he also acknowledged the gift that she and and Lisa had given him, that religions can offer in the power of prayer, hoping to be reunited with loved ones and acceptance of cycle of life. Dot prayed with Al, and she was so moved when he said: "I said a prayer, that God will take care of you after I die."

And so shall we all.


"The Outlaws" as Dottie said:
Her brother Gerry and Ron Carr, Al, Shirley and the late George Carr, and Dottie in front.

From the Wheelers

Mike and Candy Wheeler on the floor at the Democratic National Convention, 2008. (Al would have been proud!-see the Al and politics post!) (okay this webmaster cannot resist a GO OBAMA!)

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!

Lauren on Bapa!

I always remember how much Bapa loved his family and all of his grandchildren and how he took a special interest in all of our lives, relating to each one of us in his own way. With me he would always ask about my art or sports or talk about a particular painter or an artist he once knew. I was always pleased and surprised with how well he would remember the things I told him and with his genuine interest in my life. I hope that I will be able to learn from him and maintain the same sense of curiosity in the world and the people around me throughout my life as he did in his.
When I was younger we exchanged letters several times and he would share with me an anecdote from his youth, usually about some sort of trouble he had gotten in to and how he learned a life lesson from it, which was inevitably passed on to me through his story telling. I wish I had those letters on hand; they are all at home in RI, so that I could share some of his pearls of wisdom, although chances are he already passed them on to each of you in other ways.
I admire him for so many reasons and it really saddens me that I am not going to be there for his service. I really wish I could be with everyone in the same space to share memories and remember his life and reflect on the impact that he had on his friends and family. Through my travels though I enjoy very much turning to this blog and reading what everyone has to share and look through the pictures of Bapa. I can't help but think how different all family gatherings will be from now on without his presence. But I know we will all keep him with us and remember him fondly always.

Lisa A Remembrance

Lisa's shares...

I love this one of my dad on the swing at Larry's at Paradise Farm.
What a swingin' Dad.

I'll always be daddy's little girl! I 'd hide under the Chinese table at my grandparents house in Rockport where this photo was taken in the late 50's, and love to hear the voices calling, "Lisa, where are you?"

In his last months, dad asked me to help him with a new monument for the Forest Chapel Cemetery where he wanted to be buried with our mom Rosemary. I was glad I could help him see it through, and he was pleased. I'd rather have shared pictures of my father and I through the years, but they're all in a storage unit in Richmond, where I've just moved.

(Molly, Lisa, Al, and Ben)

Katie's remembrance of Al

It’s not that I haven’t had the time, or the thoughts. I haven’t had the words.

My relationship with Al was complicated. Writing those words, I have to laugh. Who had an uncomplicated relationship with Al? But the complications were ours. Discussions, repercussions, judgments, apologies, judgment, absolution, disillusionment, disregard, dissatisfaction, re-generation, respect, reconnection, realization, love, surprise, delight, and mutual respect --all of that was ours. That is where I will leave it. And Al will chuckle at the thought that you don’t know what we do.

It was May when Al met my Rosemary. We came to visit. Dot was lovely in pink linen. Rosemary and I got out of the car and she blinked twice at Dot (as she does, to signal affection), Dot embraced her and then Rosemary and I went to visit.

I was very concerned that bringing the baby would be unhealthy and said so to Al. He did not care. He wanted to see Rosemary. When we walked in she looked at him, and he at her. Al said, “her eyes are like Rose’s”. Al asked to hold her. And he did. For a long time. He gave her his finger and she grabbed it, held on and gazed at her long lost friend. They were so happy and at peace with each other. Rosemary’s eyes do not sparkle blue, but they sparkle just the same, with the life and lives that Al has given us.

Al Video at White Plains!

Bobbi Gibb on Uncle Al!

Memories of Al
by
Bobbi Gibb

September 2008

There has never been a time when Al has not been here as a guiding force and warm and loving person who I’ve looked up to and admired. Even as a toddler I remember Al at our family gatherings. He was a huge bear of a man with a booming voice and warm embrace. He always had a smile for me and kind words of praise or encouragement.

As I grew he encouraged me to run. He was the only person I can ever remember who supported and encouraged my running. He used to exclaim, “You float when you run!” And I’d run all the harder. He’d egg on my cousins, Jeff, Richie and Mike to chase me to make me run. “Look at her run!” He’d shout. “You have a gift for running,” he told me. I didn’t know that. I just liked to run. I didn’t think it was anything special, but he made it something special.

He had a gift of making people feel special. “I love people,” he would say and it was true. His love helped to heal us all. After my mother’s painful divorce, he was there to give her comfort and to listen sympathetically to her pain. He had the gift of compassion. Whenever he would hear of a particularly hard time I was having, he’d offer to help. I always said no thanks, I’m OK. But one time he sent me the money to buy an airticket home. He wanted to see me he said.

He was the only person in the world who ever called me, ‘darling.’ That was his term. He probably used the same word with many people. It always made me feel loved, as if somewhere in the world there was one person who cared and who loved me and if I ever needed protection would protect me.

He was a beautiful soul and has always been a force for good in my life. To me he meant family. Even when my own family was falling apart he was there to remind me that I still had a family whatever happened, however confused I
was or however lost I felt. He was always there. Even when I couldn’t see him, I knew he was there, big, strong, protective and loving, a kind, gentle father figure to me.

When in my dimwitted way I began to realize that despite his strength he was dying, I was filled with a sense of helpless loss. I wanted to rush to him and hold on to him so he couldn’t go. The thought of him suffering was more than I could bear. I rushed in where angels feared to tread with my pathetic gifts of nutrient drinks wrapped up in an insulated bag and laid them on his
front porch as if on an alter. I then walked to the old beach grove behind his place and, surrounded by the quiet of those ancient trees, I felt uncontrollable sobs wrack my body. My Uncle Al was dying and there was nothing I could do.

I never got to see him again or to hear his voice, but his last words to me will reverberate forever in my heart, “Good bye darling,” he had said, last time we talked on the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said. I hung up the phone so he wouldn’t hear me cry.

Marcie: Al and dancing

Father loved to dance with this beautiful Rosemary, and suffered with the lack of 'swing ' of some his other relatives. But he and Freddy showed their grace and charm at many a event, leading their lucky partners around the dance floor. He loved the music of his period, had a wonderful whistle and an easy baritone to share many of his favorite tunes.

One of my favorite of his family stories was how his mother tried to give he and Miner singing lessons with "Aunt Cotty", Madame Cotrelli, with he and Miner both working to be as uncooperative as possible. The formal lessons ended!

-Marcie

Al and Politics!

I think that if Al could have lived his life over again he might have chosen the movies or politics as a career. He told me many times about the invitations he received to go to Hollywood to become an actor, as well as the many people who urged him to go into politics. Al said he decided against the movies because he had fallen in love with Roie. And he wasn't cut out for politics, he told me, because he wouldn't be able to tell the truth. He said he learned this while serving as an advisor to then Governor John Chafee. Whenever Al would offer his advice about what Governor Chafee's position should be on a given topic, the other members of the campaign would tell him, "You can't say that, you have to say what the people want to hear."

With John Chaffee, in 1964 while working on his Travel Lab Tour Business, Chaffee would soon move from being Rhode Island Governor to being one of America's best independent and moderate Senators.


Despite this view of politics and politicians, Al was very interested in the process and always remained engaged in some manner, be it as a campaign donnor or by encouraging others to get involved. I remember once meeting US Representative Claudine Schneider while working as a volunteer at a call center for her campaign for the Senate. To my surprise when she asked my name she asked if I was related to Al Allen of Barrington. When I told her he was my grandfather, she exclaimed, "Oh, I love Mr. Allen!"

Al's interest in politics started young. He wrote to his grandchildren about how he first became interested after the death of President Harding:

"It was the summer of 1922. Mother took my sister Erma and I to visit Aunt Lucille in California. President Harding had just died of complications from pneumonia after an Alaskan hunting trip. A cross country funeral train would leave San Francisco in three days. Mother needed to be there.

"The only transportation to the six a.m. departure was Aunt Lucille’s heavy new Studebaker, and this was long before the days of power steering. Aunt Lucille had no desire to wake so early in the morning to watch a funeral train. She was even less thrilled about the idea of her sister driving her brand new automobile. After an afternoon of bickering, Aunt Lucille agreed she would let Mother take the car if Mother could prove she could handle the heavy Studebaker. Mother drove around the block, turned into the driveway and made it-just barely.

"Early the next day, Mother, Erma and I were off to see the President’s funeral train begin its slow journey. It was pitch black when we left San Mateo for the railway station. I was six years old, standing on a long, wooden platform in the pre-dawn, pacific cold. Finally, incandescent lights pierced the darkness in the thick, rolling fog. The engine’s search light pierced through the mist.

"The huge steam locomotive, draped in American flags, slowly emerged from the fog. The deep rhythmic sound of the boilers played an eerie dirge for our country’s twentieth president who was beginning his final ride home.

"It was important for Mother to witness President Harding’s departure. Mother loved history and she loved politics. She had never even finished eighth grade, choosing instead to help her mother care for the younger children, but she had a keen, analytical mind and was a voracious reader I’ve always said that she was as knowledgeable about United States history as any professor I ever had; if not more. And she was instinctively drawn to politics. Mother was very active in local government in our home state of Ohio, working on suffrage and helping to elect the nation’s first woman federal judge. The pull of politics, for Mother, was inevitable, for she also felt a strong sense of duty and was the epitome of good citizenship."

In later years Al urged his grandchildren to become involved in politics in order to improve the country and the world we lived. He said, "Mother taught me early and she taught me well. You do not take a back seat when it comes to your country’s future... Join any of the major parties- Democratic, Republican, Ralph Nadir, Libertarian and others. Work at it. You will find you are needed and it will be surprisingly easy for you to make a difference... If you do not get involved, I do not think you have the right to complain, because you are the government."

Here's Al with first President George Bush, "the good one," in 1990. I think he got this picture thanks to donations to his campaign??

WELCOME AL ALLEN BLOGGERS

Left to right: Phil, Ted, Al, Ben, Lisa, Elizabeth, Lauren, Cally, Molly, Peter, Randy, Cassie, Sara, Marcie, Larry, Matt, Erma, Bo, Mike, Candy, Kate, Roie, Jeff, Reed, Rusan, Rich, Jay.

If you are in this picture--we demand your post to this blog!!

And if you are not, we still want it!

This Blog is dedicated to the life of Albert C. Allen by his family and close friends. It is intended as a gathering place for memories, photos and, perhaps, even videos. Please share your thoughts and memories of Al with us. We will be collecting some of our favorite writings and images for a small book and/or DVD (if you remember the wonderful booklet prepared for Al's sister Erma, it will be something similiar).

Note that this blog is essentially organized into two types of posts: direct personal rememberances in which you make a single post, and you should include your name in the post title; and a few subjects, such as baseball, Al and Erma, etc. in which you can contribute any additional memories, images or videos you may have. You can do this by emailing me directly and I will add them in, or using the comments field below the post.

Al the Prankster

Al loved humor, and jokes, and most of all, pranks. Humor was one thread that ran throughout his entire life, from childhood to the very end.

Though as Dottie notes, he didn't really like jokes, as much as he really loved pranks.

I'll start with one from my High School graduation of all things, from Tabor Academy. After the speeches and conferring of degrees, everyone headed outside onto the lawn. Al wasn't content with the usual ceremony and post-graduation hugs. Instead he started going around to other families that were gathering to take pictures and inserting himself into group as they took a photograph--pretending to be part of the family for a group of people he had never met!! Of course, this included certain girls I 'liked,' and was very embarrassing I felt, but years later whenever I ran into someone from high school they would laugh about how my there was this strange unknown grandfather in their high school graduation photos! Everyone loved it.

Another of my favorite testaments to Al's remarkable sense of humor. Al couldn't just leave, he had to make an EXIT. So with Bo for support, Al stood on the porch to make a dramatic waving to the crowd exit. Only, everytime the crowd gathered under him, he quickly use Bo to sprint to another side of the porch and start waving! By the time the adoring masses regrouped under the other side of the porch, he'd be off again to another spot. Eventually he snuck right off the stage and into his waiting car, dissapearing and leaving the crowd (us!) wishing for more.

-Pete

The big-voiced referee
What made Al such a great prankster was his multiple methods of attack. Most of the posts so far have demonstrated his ability to plan and carry out his pranks over long periods of time. But he also had a keen sense of the moment and could pull a prank extemporaneously as well. The best evidence I have of this was the one he played on Roie at Thanksgiving in the early 80s. After dinner we had all retired to the front room at 482 Washington Rd to watch the late football game. At some point Roie came in to sit with the guys. During this time a few penalties occured and each time the play stopped the referee would come to the center of the field and announce the penalty to the crowd and television audience. After the third of fourth call, Roie blurted out, "My what a big voice he has." Al nodded his concurrence and said, "Yes, Rose, that's how they chose them." I'm not sure he ever explained the truth to her! (Ted)

LaLa and Elizabeth Allen add: (ED.: these are fantastic!!)
#1 Al used to play bridge weekly with a group of guys- real characters, I assure you. They would rotate from house to house. Peg Scanlon,(Tom Scanlon's wife-Tom was co -owner of Avid which they bought from Tom's older brother , Ed (a real chaarcter in his own right). Enough history, where was I?
Well each time the boys were over playing bridge Peg noted that some piece of china tableware would be gone- presumably broken. Over a year this added up, but Peg -as the attrition was so gradual- never noted or commented on it. One night Al invited the Scanlon's over for dinner, and served them on their china!@

#2Another joke was with our dentist, Frank Commette (?). I do not know about the other kids but he was very tolerant, so much so that Marcy & I used to spray him with the water rinser!
They were having lunch, and Dad who was stuck against a wall asked Frank to go out to his car - pointing to a blue Buick and get out his camera. Frank, went out and was rumaging about the car when a lady ran out and started yelling " Stop thief!"

#3My favorite- and this was played on Dad and his golf foursome up in Rockport. They all had just
driven off the tee in the middle of their game. as they proceed to head down to their balls, a little old lady with a bonnet and a basket came out of the woods and picked up each of the balls. Yells of consternation ensued, but the little old lady calmly walked into the woods. As golfers seem to take their game rather seriously, I thought this perfect- credit for this prank goes to Norman Von Rosenvinge ( a great pal of Aunt Erma, but a CHaracter again,and not entirely - maybe mostly loaded- without faults, but he shone here )
--Lala

Sara checks in!

Does anyone remember how Al got me thinking he was my uncle? I was so little, and always going to Roie and Al's, and every time he'd great me with open arms saying, "Say hello to your uncle Al." I remember on several occasions running into the house on Washington Road yelling, UNCLE AL!! I never really thought about whether he was really my uncle or not, that was just how he taught me to greet him. Then one day I must have made the connection (much too late I'm sure) I remember thinking...how can he be my uncle if he's my dad's dad? He's my GRANDFATHER!!

Marcie notes a similar gag by Al: I am so glad Sara commented on Father's ability to muddle relationships: Harry Wheeler was never my uncle, but Al's mother's daughter's husband. No wonder we're all so confused!

Dad The Practical Joker…………Jeff
Along with clowning around for pictures, Dad was a great practical joker for all his life and he tells some of these in his writings and others have been passed along by word of mouth. Here are a few of my favorites.

Biggest Chest on the W&M Football Team…………Jeff
In 1936, when Dad first tried out for football at William & Mary he had to take a brief physical during which time they also took measurements for uniforms. The varsity line coach, Ottis Douglas was in charge with another assistant taking down the measurements. One such measurement was the player's chest measurements inhaled and exhaled. It was a measurement of lung capacity. The coach stood behind Dad holding the tape in the middle of his back and asked him to inhale deeply---hold--then exhale. He heard the coach say, "look at this. It is unbelievable." By the oo's and ah' s that he heard from the people at his back, Dad figured that he had just set the record by a large amount. In fact, so much so that Coach Douglass asked the head coach to come over to the bench and then asked him to repeat the procedure. Dad hoped that he could match the same record and an audience grew to watch. They all stood from behind (thank heavens) and watched the tape measurement as Dad filled his lungs to the full extent as Dad carefully, discretely, stuck a finger under the tape on the front of his chest and gradually pulled the tape about the 5 inches that he estimated he had pulled it the first time, then quickly exhaled before he could be caught. There were applause and whistles and Dad figures his record still stands.
The audacity of him!

Office Adoration…………Jeff
In the late 1970's at Avid Corporation, Dad decided to hire a new personal assistant to handle the workload of the secretary (Claudia) that was handling both Dad and my work. The lady he selected was the middle-aged wife of a friend of Mom and Dad's that worked for a large RI conglomerate and lived in Barrington. She was bored staying at home and looking of something to keep her busy. She came aboard and we made the transition smoothly.
At the time Avid had a comptroller who was very good at what he did, but a very quiet man around the office except when it came to presenting numbers. He was very shy, especially around women, and during her first week of work Dad saw the opportunity for some good natured fun.
After his new assistant had been on the job for a couple of weeks, he brought the comptroller into his office for a personal discussion. Dad was concerned that his new personal assistant, the wife of a friend, seemed to have an unusual interest in the controller. He had never seen her behave that way. He was concerned. Around the same time, during a meeting with his new office assistant, he expressed concern with the way the comptroller was behaving when he was around her and asked her to keep it confidential, but he was concerned. For the next couple of weeks, before Dad explained privately to both that he had been mistaken on his observation, the comptroller and the new office assistant would pass meekly in the office corridors like two ships in the night embarrassed at each others sight. How could he come up with these ideas!

The Up and Coming Rookie…………Jeff
Dad loved the Cleveland Indians and did his best to make Rich and Indian fans, but he wasn't above a practical joke at our expense about them even if we were only nine or ten.
As ten-year olds did at the time, we liked to talk baseball with our friends and we would brag about our team's chances in the coming season. One year Dad got us all excited about a new fire balling star pitcher named Willis Hudlin (spelling?) who was in the farm system and would be coming up to the team in the near future. Whenever we would get In heated debates about the best team I would remind my friends that the Indians would soon have Willis Hudlin and they had better look out. I sure had egg on my face when Dad told me later that year that not only was Willis not coming up that year, but he had just been kidding us. Willis had played for the Indians in the late 1920's and 1930's and had been put to pasture many years earlier.

Sandi Adds:
Dear Peter - Here is my "Al story"-I call it The Great China Caper" - Uncle Al was a funny man - a really smart man but a man with a very patient sense of humor. I'll always remember the tale of his weekly bridge game with friends. After the games, dessert would be served. Each time at this particular friend's house, Al would take and hide away (from Roie,too) a piece of the friend's dessert china (acup or a plate, a saucer) until after months of this, he had garnered service for four. He told Roie the pieces were a give-away program at the local gas station (as was done for promotions in those days). At the next bridge get-together, when dessert time arrived, the friends were served on a full setting of their own china! Of course, it was the initial look on their faces that was worth it all to Al! Al was my father's best friend as a young man and then they married the Reed twins so they continued life in tandem - lots of parties, travels and laughs together! -- Jay wanted to add his favorite rememberance of Al were the many planned sailing trips on the "Hoiqua" (spelling?], picnics made for enjoying on the high seas - to have every time some problem with the engine so they never left the dock! Thanks for doing this,Peter. Look forward to seeing it all! Love, Sandi

Marcie adds

Father didn't stop being a prankster when he was ill. When nurses would drain his lung fluids,taking sometimes a full hour, he would start to nod his head, and gaze off...only to supply a wink when a concerned voice would say " Al, AL?"! He also told one his night nurses to pay attention to Dottie, in case she passed out: the nurse asked me if there was a long history of this problem(there is none). He'd done a similar thing to Roie before she moved into the 29 Rumstick house he bought in Barrington, I think telling his new friends that she was a lovely person but a little...off." Can you imagine!!!!

Ted on Al and Names

(from Ted Allen)

Al was notorious for mispronouncing or misspelling names. No baseball player’s name was safe when he came to the attention of Al. And even with his family he had some issues. For example, he didn’t remember that my real name was Edward. Every time he wrote me a check (too often!) it was in the name of Theodore Allen. I had a lot of trouble depositing the checks!

Here are some of my favorite Al mispronunciations/misspellings/or other name issues. Please add yours.

Chaylee – Pronounced Shaylee
Lenny Dykstra (outfielder) – spelled Dykster
Guatemala – spelled Gauatamala
Aaron Sele (pitcher) – spelled Seely
Ralph Nader – spelled Nadir
Charles Nagy – spelled Naddy
Sandwich - pronounced Sangwich (from Marcie)

Al and Food!

I never really knew Al as an eater, a food lover, or gourmand one might say. I don't remember him being really passionate about food, which is why I love this shot (I think Richie gave this to me as he did many of the older black and whites), the pure joy and youthfull glee at whatever he has found in the fridge. Later in his years he developed a mean love for Rhode Island's Awful Awfuls. And I recall a disturbing love for chowder from Bloundt's Seafood factory late in life.

(Al, 19??, White Plains?Rockport?)

( marcie said...I was always told that this picture was from Roie and Al's first apartment. He always loved to tell the story that Roie couldn't cook( Jeff agreed) in her early years: I came later, and am evidence that her cooking improved!)
(Pete said, for some reason I could sweat Al told me this was Rockport)

Please chime in with any food recollections you may have. Seems like an odd subject, but it is what we are made of, and often the source of our closest passions!

Pete

My Post here lead to a few comments on Al's favorite eating haunts besides the Newport Creamery:
Lala made fun of him for not being a Gourmand because his favorite place was Mary Darlings, which Marcie corrected, correctly, as Eileen Darlings. (Ah, LA, you never had to endure one of Al's patented Grandfatherly talks over lunch at Eileen Darlings!). But Elizabeth also pointed out that AL enjoyed food and definetly bread-he had an ability to "palm" a half a loaf of bread and walk by without it being noticed. My Bo has also got this trick.

Turning to a more serious side of Al's appreciation of food, Susan noted how he was, a ""great appreciator" of my cooking and it gave me joy to cook him a meal. He'd want to know, what was in it and how did I prepare it? Maybe he just did that because he knew cooking was something I enjoyed." But Susan, Aren't we ALL!


Of course, Susan also had to admit Al was a "fan of the Country Buffet in Seekonk. I remember him telling me of what a wonderful place it was, you pick up a tray, stand in line and get to go up as much as you want! If I recall I think that is where he met one of the young men working there that he put through Johnson & Wales. Expensive dinner that night." (Editor: HAH!)

Lala chimed in with a classic: We were visiting Naples and Dad took my little family out to a all you can eat for $4.99- if you got the early bird. At the end Bo thanked him, said it was good & "Bapa can we eat someplace else the next time?"

Ultimately, I think Ted, Sara and Katie--the first generation of Grandkids--will agree with me, at the time Al was taking us out for dinners we didn't know much about food either! Al would take us out to dinner or lunch at the Wharf Tavern or the Lobster Pot or Eileen Darlings or the Country Buffet and we thought they were all fancy places! After all it was a serious meal--full of what will you do with your life chatter. (okay, even I knew at 12 that Eileen Darlings was not a great place--on the other hand I also remember Roie loving it, which makes it a 5 star place).

Al's 80th

Singing to Al on his birthday at the RICC. Does anyone have the lyrics of the songs so we can post them here?

Marcie adds: I've never seen grammy gafaw!!!!Father's in his favorite jacket and wow pants... remember he was green color blind!

Ted responds: Thought you would love this one, Marcie! I think you and Al were singing a song. Good reason to gufaw! --