Our Story so far...(a bit of context)
Our Story so far...
In late April my wife Mary and I packed up the dog (Dora) and the cats (Sinbad and the Duke) and our place in Cambridge MA to take up residence in the family summer place (or dacha) on the south coast of Maine. This is where our story has been taking place and will for a while longer. How much longer ? Hard to say. How did we get here in the first place ? Read on...
My Grandmother, Isabelle Strong, was best friends at Miss Hall's school (class of 1908) with a young woman named Rosamond Thaxter, Aunt Rozzie to us kids, who lived on Cutts Island in Kittery Point Maine. Granny Strong would take the Boston and Maine Railroad from Chelmsford MA to Portsmouth NH and then the Atlantic Shore Trolley out to Kittery Point to visit Rozzie. In her book "Aunt Rozzie Remembers", Aunt Rozzie tells a story about her and a friend taking a trolly into Portsmouth to go to a resturaunt where there were curtains that could be drawn and a forbidden cigarette smoked. I have always been reasonably sure the "friend" in this story was Granny.
Rozzie, it should be noted was very high society, the great niece of the poetess Celia Thaxter (for who our daughter is at least partially named), heir to a medium sized hotel fortune and doer of all kinds of charitible deeds (and I believe also something of a wild thing). The stories are myriad, enough to warrant discussion in further entries. She was also my mother's God mother, name sake and patron.
My mom, Roz, "Little Rozzie" as she was known up here, spent world war two living with Rozzie and working on submarines and later radar at the kittery navel ship yard and walked the 5 miles into Portsmouth for VE day. Later they travelled to europe together at least once, my mother returning with a scandalous swim suit (by the standards of 1950) which according to an elder island resident caused a certain amount of gawking on his part.
By 1965 my mom had aquired a husband and three sons and was given the opportunity by Aunt Rozzie to buy a house on the Island which she promptly did. My first clear memories of being here are from the summer of 1966 and then there are many years of idyllic childhood summers (which may only be idyllic in my memory, but memory is like that sometimes).
Halle Family, Summer 1965
After a few years of not liking it, I missed my friends back home and as a family we didn't start getting along well until the mid 80's or so, so it could be kind of a drag, as my friends and I turned 16 we found we could go up to Kittery and enjoy some adult free days (while our parents undoubtedly enjoyed to teenager free days). Shortly thereafter (although to us it seemed to be a long time) the girl friends appeared some of whom later became wives and then the children giving us a new generation who love the island as we do. Most recently we welcomed our friend Pete and Meaghan's son Quincy to what I think will be a lifetime love affair with seapoint beach.
When my father passed away in 2018 my brothers and I were able to work out a deal where Mary and I could keep the house and with which everyone was happy, an event not only unique in the history of the family but in the history of estate law in general. It is my hope that my daughters Rosie and Cecelia can manage to hang on to it after we're gone.
And so, here we are.
In late April my wife Mary and I packed up the dog (Dora) and the cats (Sinbad and the Duke) and our place in Cambridge MA to take up residence in the family summer place (or dacha) on the south coast of Maine. This is where our story has been taking place and will for a while longer. How much longer ? Hard to say. How did we get here in the first place ? Read on...
My Grandmother, Isabelle Strong, was best friends at Miss Hall's school (class of 1908) with a young woman named Rosamond Thaxter, Aunt Rozzie to us kids, who lived on Cutts Island in Kittery Point Maine. Granny Strong would take the Boston and Maine Railroad from Chelmsford MA to Portsmouth NH and then the Atlantic Shore Trolley out to Kittery Point to visit Rozzie. In her book "Aunt Rozzie Remembers", Aunt Rozzie tells a story about her and a friend taking a trolly into Portsmouth to go to a resturaunt where there were curtains that could be drawn and a forbidden cigarette smoked. I have always been reasonably sure the "friend" in this story was Granny.
Rozzie, it should be noted was very high society, the great niece of the poetess Celia Thaxter (for who our daughter is at least partially named), heir to a medium sized hotel fortune and doer of all kinds of charitible deeds (and I believe also something of a wild thing). The stories are myriad, enough to warrant discussion in further entries. She was also my mother's God mother, name sake and patron.
My mom, Roz, "Little Rozzie" as she was known up here, spent world war two living with Rozzie and working on submarines and later radar at the kittery navel ship yard and walked the 5 miles into Portsmouth for VE day. Later they travelled to europe together at least once, my mother returning with a scandalous swim suit (by the standards of 1950) which according to an elder island resident caused a certain amount of gawking on his part.
By 1965 my mom had aquired a husband and three sons and was given the opportunity by Aunt Rozzie to buy a house on the Island which she promptly did. My first clear memories of being here are from the summer of 1966 and then there are many years of idyllic childhood summers (which may only be idyllic in my memory, but memory is like that sometimes).
Halle Family, Summer 1965
After a few years of not liking it, I missed my friends back home and as a family we didn't start getting along well until the mid 80's or so, so it could be kind of a drag, as my friends and I turned 16 we found we could go up to Kittery and enjoy some adult free days (while our parents undoubtedly enjoyed to teenager free days). Shortly thereafter (although to us it seemed to be a long time) the girl friends appeared some of whom later became wives and then the children giving us a new generation who love the island as we do. Most recently we welcomed our friend Pete and Meaghan's son Quincy to what I think will be a lifetime love affair with seapoint beach.
When my father passed away in 2018 my brothers and I were able to work out a deal where Mary and I could keep the house and with which everyone was happy, an event not only unique in the history of the family but in the history of estate law in general. It is my hope that my daughters Rosie and Cecelia can manage to hang on to it after we're gone.
And so, here we are.
I have been so blesses to be your friend, and to be able to share your environs with my various partners in crime, husband and children. You are so precious to all of us, and our memories of being in Kittery with you live ON!!! Giancarlo started Lobster Theater the other day. My favorite memory of being there is you attempting to quit tobacco, driving up there with a buddy, my massage table, and helping you with some stress management giving massage therapy on the porch in a full on rain storm. I can still hear it in my head sometimes if I need something calm to help me sleep. My other favorite memory is Morris and Roz leaning over and chatting with a toddler Adam, who was fascinated by some clasp or other. He had laser focus and your Dad couldn't get over how he kept at it until he mastered it. And of course, your Dad ate calamari at my Xmas table. A TRUE honor. Love you and all your alls. Keep writing!!!!!!
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