Telling Stories, Sharing Memories Together
From 1973 to 1977 we had a student household on Mix Road called Frog Farm. We had a well worn path through our back field and woods, and across the Evergreen Parkway and into the field behind Calliope. Greg lived at Calliope for much of that time. I’m not sure how I ended up with this picture. And I don’t remember the names of some of the people in it. But Gregory is in the middle front with Chrissie McFadden on his left. Also, Don Harper and George in the front row.
Gregory, Leslie and Doug became step-sibs to my brothers Ed and Jeff and me when we were all teenagers. I remember Gregory’s keen wit and good nature as we shared weekends, holidays and the occasional family camping trip. I’m so glad I finally made it to visit Betsie and Gregory in Rochester last summer along with Leslie and Barbara. He will be greatly missed.
My brother Gregory whittled this back in the mid 70’s and gave it to me while I was in college. It’s often been a conversation piece when people notice it sitting on a prominent shelf in my home and ask about it. He always promised that he would add another link or two but time seemed to have gotten away from us as other projects and events took precedence i.e. plumbing repairs, cribbage games, cooking curries, reminiscing … all time well spent and cherished with my brother.
For the past couple of years, we kept up a daily Wordle exchange ritual. He liked to work the puzzle first thing in the morning and share it while I liked to wait until I saw how many tries it took him. At first he was predictable using the same word with lots of vowels for his initial guess. I used that information against him and knew some letters based on his first guess. Some would call it cheating but after I told him what I had been up to he considered it as resourcefulness. Needless to say, he started using different first words after that! He usually made a comment about how well or poor he did that day and whether he thought it was a good or dumb word. It was a nice connection between us to have some daily contact and I truly miss it. I still work the puzzle every day but now it feels empty to not click the Share button with him.
We (mostly I, ever the planner) often speculated about our future. What would he or I do if the other died first? The big question was always, “Would we move to town for greater access to activities without the 40-minute drive?” This idea was even a consideration if, as a couple, we found driving or taking care of our home and yard difficult. Then last February I vividly remember saying to him, “Why would we move to town? We have this house just the way we want it?” Our kitchen is easy to work in. He has installed fun quirky things at my request such as towel racks made from scrap pipes in the bathroom inspired by the Olympic Club women’s restroom. Shelves and tables he custom-built to fit small spaces and hold our drinks, glasses, and phones while we play Wingspan. A bin to hold our yoga mats made with salvaged maple flooring and clothesline cord. An outdoor clothesline on pulleys because I LOVE to hang laundry from the porch like they did in the “old days.” Cork floor installed back in 2011, which is when he had his first and ONLY symptoms of coronary artery disease. Solar panels on the roof. His shop where a collection of cast-off power tools are shared with our local community. Even a foundation high enough (hopefully) to be above ANYTHING the Chehalis River can throw at us as we’ve raised it not once, but twice, and can now easily access the under belly of our house.
This house and farm, where I have lived for 42 years, is a comfort to me – filled with so many fond memories of the life we built together.
Bonus photo: Gregory hung the pepper necklace on the osprey to dry. It was some days before I noticed.