There are plenty of things I am lousy at. Yet, writing has not historically been one of them. Where in other places I may flail, I am generally able to capture my emotions and thoughts with reasonable adeptness, clarity --and ease-- as written words. Stuart’s passing has stymied me, however.
I have struggled for weeks now with contrasting feelings of wanting “to be involved” in this beautiful process of remembering –of connecting with Stuart— and a somewhat inexplicable ability to, in fact, do it. A hundred times –in my head—I have framed the piece I would like to write; a hundred times, I have been unable to compose it.
Last week, I drove home one evening and an old song was playing (Oh La La by The Faces); it made me weep hysterically thinking of Stuart. When I got home, I sat down, saddened and inspired, to get my thoughts down. Instead, I spent 2 hours scanning my Itunes, playing songs that made me think of Stuart and planning the mix CD that I would make as an homage to him. I continued to cry as I listened, but my sadness was interspersed with the occasional wry smile, knowing Stuart would have teased me gleefully for behaving like a lovelorn schoolgirl.
All that said, I want to step in now, if only to offer an initial salvo. Perhaps this is my way of beginning an embrace with each of you, while buying myself time to process the thoughts that will allow me to remember him correctly, as I’d like.
Thus, I will simply share now the email I sent to Karen when she first shared this awful news. Many of you don’t know me but I hope these brief thoughts (and my eventual “piece-to-come”) will shed more light on who I am, the very small way in which I fit into Stuart’s life, and the very large way he shaped mine.
Keith
10/27/06
Karen,
This has hit me very hard, but like Stuart I am going to remain positive and hopeful.
In the course of your life, I think there are a small handful of people who really help shape you, and define who you want to be. For me, Stuart was very much one of those people. When I met him, I was 22, just a kid, and trying to figure out who I wanted to be, and how I wanted to be in this world. Doug had been a friend and a mentor for a few years prior, and then Stuart became this person who was quiet, thoughtful, compassionate, and a family man. That year I worked for him full-time, I developed a sense of what it looks like to be a “good man,” who remains fun, youthful, a caring dad, and a loving spouse.
I will never forget one conversation, in particular with Stuart, where we talked about marriage. He was the first person who helped me to see that it is a living thing, something that requires nurturing and cultivation, and that to make it work over a lifetime, you need to tenaciously be committed to it and want to work at its success as much as you want any other kind of success in your life. It was such a learning moment for me. I had this fairy tale notion of marriage up to then: you meet someone, fall in love, and it’s like that forever. That insight from Stuart never left me, and has helped me with my relationship with Edie; it has kept us growing together over 10 years.
Anyway, I guess I just felt impelled to write this after reading your email. In my 37 years, Stuart is one of those 2 or 3 people who have served as my “benchmarks” for how, and who, I wanted to be as a person.
Edie and I will keep you very much in our thoughts.
Love,
Keith
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The Last Trip
As many of you know we had been planning to visit Antigua in April, a trip that was in the planning for over a year, well before Stuart got sick. Starting in January it was a constant topic of conversation, should we go, could Stuart do the trip, what supports would be there if needed? Right down to the week before departure Karen was on the fence, but the deciding factor was Stuart- he really wanted to go, even though his doctor thought it was not a great idea. As soon as we stepped foot in the beautiful home out on the hillside with water views all around and a comfortable chaise that he could sit in to gaze out at the ships going by- he was one happy camper. Yes- there were problems developing, and yes- we all knew pretty soon that we weren't going to make the week, but we had some special moments that we think made it all worthwhile.(Although Karen may disagree since she lost most of her sleep for 4 days...)
A wonderful moment was when Mac put Stuart in the golf cart to take a little tour of the golf course and you could hear Stuart say "just go! Let's get outta here!" He delighted in "escaping" from Karens' care and protection for just a few minutes. Later that afternoon we went down to the beach. We could see how thrilled he was to get into the water, and with Karen feeling a little protective I said "don't worry- Mac's not going to let Stuart drown!" and sure enough Stuart had those minutes of floating weightlessly in the clear blue Caribbean sea, which must have felt wonderful to his aching body. There were precious other moments when he was able to just be there, viewing the yachts in Nelson's Boatyard and remembering his solo trip to the island in the 70's when he slept on the beach. He had some special memories there, and we were so happy to see him relive a few.
The warm waters of the Caribbean will never be the same to us without our captain.
Helen and Mac Crary
Saturday, May 26, 2007
The Skipperless Boat - By Bill Kelley
No one can replace Stuart as skipper. He's on a differnt voyage now. I'll always think of him whenever boating around the Vineyard.
Bill Kelley
Karen & Stuart in Camden, Maine - By David Williams
The photograph above, of Karen and Stuart together, was taken in October of 1999. The occasion was the passing of Laurie Meyer's mother, Mary Louise (I'm proud to say that I am Laurel's spouse). The locale was Camden, Maine.
Meyer friends and family had made the trip North to offer comfort to Laurel and her brothers and sisters. Of course Stuart and Karen were there, and as you can see from the other image below, much time was spent on Mrs. Meyer's back porch in conversation, both light and heavy in nature.
The photo of the two of them alone was taken as they were returning from a walk together, arm in arm, and as I was embarking upon a sojourn of my own. Together, from a distance, Karen and Stuart looked a little like a young couple in love. It is probably the only good picture I have of them. But I do like it very much. So here it is.
______________________________________________________________________
ANYWAY, all the tales I have been reading here about Stuart honor him in a wonderfully Stuart-like way, because he was such a story teller himself. This blog does more than offer us remembrance, it keeps him alive by means of his own favorite medium, story telling. It is so on target in this respect.
I really knew Stuart best through his stories. Our get-togethers were mostly quiet, conversational, family affairs — rarely one of the more action oriented adventures he loved to talk about, work included. His stories invariably revealed Stuart's well developed wit and humor. Not just because he was funny, and he was very very funny, but because his humor was so well
informed by his astute powers of observation, a strong aesthetic sensibility, a sophisticated social intelligence, and a wonderfully broad and humanistic spirit.
I do feel blessed to have known Stuart well enough to appreciate him deeply, and to know what a gift he was and still is to those around him, Karen, Ben and Allison in particular.
Adios, amigo.
Gloucester Friends - By Jackie Ganim-DeFalco
For those of you who don’t know us, we are part of the Gloucester contingent of friends thanks to the many years of work my husband Michael DeFalco has done as the crazy painter who shows up from Gloucester at 6AM on all the Whitla Brothers jobs. Coincidentally, Karen and Stuart have Gloucester connections just down the street from us! Last year, when I decided to plan Michael’s surprise 50th in Jackson, NH – the Whitla Brothers were among the first guests I called and were certainly the first to jump on the chance to surprise Michael and celebrate with us! It was a glorious, perfect weekend (October 21) in the White Mountains and one that we will never forget. What will stay in my mind forever is that – totally spontaneously, Stuart was the one to give Michael his official birthday toast – said so succinctly – “Michael, what everyone fears is that when they turn 50 and get older, they will start to lose it, but you don’t have to worry – you started a long time ago!” For those of you that know my wonderfully creative husband – I thought it would be fun to share Stuart’s words. It was so wonderful to have this special time together and Stuart is very much on our minds and Karen, Doug, and Annie have another community here to call home.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Gadget-Man! By Patty Kean
So, no one yet has written about the gadgets…???
Now, having grown up in a house where calling someone in to fix anything was never a slight consideration, I can recognize an expert gadget-man from quite a distance. I have also since learned that being addicted to gadgets is a requirement for both carpenters and sailors ~ so Stuart, also being very independent and self-confident (Karen, did I hear you whisper “stubborn”?), really had no chance (or desire) of recovery.
However, I must say that one particular gadget saved my life … ok, ok, an exaggeration. But, it did save Karen a lot of work.
The seas were rough. Very rough. We were docked in Vineyard Haven for the evening. The shrimp kabobs were sizzling on the grill; Larry and Stuart were watching them cook, and I went down underneath (I know there is a “right” term) to help Karen with the salad. “Ohh….Karen, I need to go back up on deck…now.”
I sat on one of the side cushions and took a deep breath…and Stuart, being the observant man that he was, looked at me with that knowing look. And, suddenly, his whole face lit up!
“You’re feeling sick!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be right back!” And within seconds, he was strapping what looked like a Timex without the time on my wrist. “Wear this. It is supposed to stop motion sickness. What intensity do you want the shocks to be?” Could Stuart be using behavioral modification on me? Little shocks like the one on those dog collars to keep dogs in the yard?
“Stuart….” And, he jumped in with an explanation that made me realize that I would probably buy a set of old encyclopedias from this man. The shocks from the gadget enter my wrist and go to my palm and send a message to my stomach so that I won’t throw up on your boat? But, ten minutes had passed from the first wave of nausea, and I was ready to try the shock treatments.
That darn gadget did the trick. And, as the weather worsened, Stuart and Larry became nauseous. However, I wouldn’t let anyone even try the gadget. Stuart gave Larry a patch, which Larry promptly put on backwards and retired for the evening as did Stuart. And, Karen sat up all night getting ready for what could be a very intense scene…What if they all get sick at once????
Stuart was as irritated that morning as I had ever known him. He was furious, pulling up anchor, motoring to a more protected harbor. Muttering about that damn blog…(Yes, Doug, I am sure that is what he was muttering, come to think of it.) Angry about being surprised by the seas. Upset with himself because as a host, he cared that we were uncomfortable. I kept trying to reassure him that I found it to be just a fine experience: Lying on the bench during the night, repeating my mantra, “One with the sea” and making sure the wrist shocker gadget stayed in exactly the right place.
He finally smiled, “So, the thing really worked?”
Now, having grown up in a house where calling someone in to fix anything was never a slight consideration, I can recognize an expert gadget-man from quite a distance. I have also since learned that being addicted to gadgets is a requirement for both carpenters and sailors ~ so Stuart, also being very independent and self-confident (Karen, did I hear you whisper “stubborn”?), really had no chance (or desire) of recovery.
However, I must say that one particular gadget saved my life … ok, ok, an exaggeration. But, it did save Karen a lot of work.
The seas were rough. Very rough. We were docked in Vineyard Haven for the evening. The shrimp kabobs were sizzling on the grill; Larry and Stuart were watching them cook, and I went down underneath (I know there is a “right” term) to help Karen with the salad. “Ohh….Karen, I need to go back up on deck…now.”
I sat on one of the side cushions and took a deep breath…and Stuart, being the observant man that he was, looked at me with that knowing look. And, suddenly, his whole face lit up!
“You’re feeling sick!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be right back!” And within seconds, he was strapping what looked like a Timex without the time on my wrist. “Wear this. It is supposed to stop motion sickness. What intensity do you want the shocks to be?” Could Stuart be using behavioral modification on me? Little shocks like the one on those dog collars to keep dogs in the yard?
“Stuart….” And, he jumped in with an explanation that made me realize that I would probably buy a set of old encyclopedias from this man. The shocks from the gadget enter my wrist and go to my palm and send a message to my stomach so that I won’t throw up on your boat? But, ten minutes had passed from the first wave of nausea, and I was ready to try the shock treatments.
That darn gadget did the trick. And, as the weather worsened, Stuart and Larry became nauseous. However, I wouldn’t let anyone even try the gadget. Stuart gave Larry a patch, which Larry promptly put on backwards and retired for the evening as did Stuart. And, Karen sat up all night getting ready for what could be a very intense scene…What if they all get sick at once????
Stuart was as irritated that morning as I had ever known him. He was furious, pulling up anchor, motoring to a more protected harbor. Muttering about that damn blog…(Yes, Doug, I am sure that is what he was muttering, come to think of it.) Angry about being surprised by the seas. Upset with himself because as a host, he cared that we were uncomfortable. I kept trying to reassure him that I found it to be just a fine experience: Lying on the bench during the night, repeating my mantra, “One with the sea” and making sure the wrist shocker gadget stayed in exactly the right place.
He finally smiled, “So, the thing really worked?”
Shelter - by Gordy Marshall
Several years ago our roof needed replacing, timbers and all. In true Vermont fashion I put a tarp on it and began to plan for a new improved standing seam job with a shed dormer off the back. I had hoped to do the work myself and went to Stuart for advice. After I explained my goal to Stuart, he politely said I was crazy. Okay, he didn’t use the word crazy but suggested that I greatly underestimated what the job would entail. He then went on to offer to take a couple of days off work and come up and help build the new roof with me.
Several weeks later he arrived on a Wednesday night and in four days framed up and sheathed a new roof with two small dormers in the front and a shed dormer off the back. It was incredible to work with him. I had seen it before on smaller projects. He worked so fast, he was incredibly precise, and he came up with creative solutions to a variety of issues both structural and aesthetic. Many people become good at their profession whether as a lawyer, teacher, banker, or artist; but few, I believe, ever become “one” with what they do. Stuart is one of those few.
It was incredibly kind of him to give up his time. And it was fun and an honor to work with him. He gave us shelter.
Several weeks later he arrived on a Wednesday night and in four days framed up and sheathed a new roof with two small dormers in the front and a shed dormer off the back. It was incredible to work with him. I had seen it before on smaller projects. He worked so fast, he was incredibly precise, and he came up with creative solutions to a variety of issues both structural and aesthetic. Many people become good at their profession whether as a lawyer, teacher, banker, or artist; but few, I believe, ever become “one” with what they do. Stuart is one of those few.
It was incredibly kind of him to give up his time. And it was fun and an honor to work with him. He gave us shelter.
Young at Heart - by Gordy Marshall
Watching Stuart “hang out” with his son Ben was really nice. They have a special relationship. They were great friends, and Stuart was not one to shy away from giving Ben a hard time when the opportunity presented itself.
One Saturday, many years ago, Ben and his friend and Dan decided to camp out on the island. Stuart thought it a good idea to give them a good scare. So Stuart, myself, and another friend, Rob, waited and then under the cover of darkness ventured forth to terrify his son. We moved slowly, stealth-like, through the brush, all our senses heightened (which is pretty good for middle age guys). We crept up to the tent and all was quiet, too quiet. Had our movements through the brush been detected? Were they waiting for us?
No, they just weren’t there. But where were they? How could they not be here? Then we remembered a group of college kids had gone out to the end of the island hours before. Most likely Ben and Dan had joined them. But Stuart, Rob and I reasoned, incorrectly, that they must be coming back soon, for those kids were in college and Ben and Dan were just high school age.
So, with their imminent return, we decided to hide and wait for them. And the tent seemed like the best place to launch our surprise. The three of us climbed into the two man tent and zipped up the flap behind us. The space seemed bigger from the outside. The air was still. Three guys in a tent: crouching, shuffling, and grunting. Little was said, for we expected Ben and Dan to show any minute. The seconds turned into minutes and the ridiculousness of the situation became clearer. Finally, Stuart, who is often the first to see reason and the practicality of things, suggested that perhaps it would be just as effective to surprise them from the bushes as it would be from the close quartered tent. It was pointed out that the effect of leaping from the bushes would be more terrifying than three guys huddled on their knees waving their arms and hands from a small tent opening. So, out we climbed, awkward but undeterred.
We waited and waited. Finally we heard someone coming. But something was wrong; the sound was coming from the wrong direction. They were approaching from the other way. We crouched low realizing that we were exposed from that approach. Delta Force we were not. It was too late to move. We remained crouching, half in the bushes, as several people came by (not Ben or Dan). They gave us a curious hello which we returned with silence hoping that if we were silent we would also be invisible.
After they passed we realized the jig was up. Those that had just passed would likely report to those at the end of the island, including Ben and Dan, that there were people skulking in the bushes. Perhaps that would keep everybody at the end of the island for the rest of the night, which really wasn’t our purpose. We realized the element of surprise had been lost; we walked back to the house, mission unaccomplished.
The next morning we confessed our dastardly plan to Ben. Ben laughed and said he had been wondering who it was when it was reported at the end of the island that “there were some “old guys” back in the bushes”.
One Saturday, many years ago, Ben and his friend and Dan decided to camp out on the island. Stuart thought it a good idea to give them a good scare. So Stuart, myself, and another friend, Rob, waited and then under the cover of darkness ventured forth to terrify his son. We moved slowly, stealth-like, through the brush, all our senses heightened (which is pretty good for middle age guys). We crept up to the tent and all was quiet, too quiet. Had our movements through the brush been detected? Were they waiting for us?
No, they just weren’t there. But where were they? How could they not be here? Then we remembered a group of college kids had gone out to the end of the island hours before. Most likely Ben and Dan had joined them. But Stuart, Rob and I reasoned, incorrectly, that they must be coming back soon, for those kids were in college and Ben and Dan were just high school age.
So, with their imminent return, we decided to hide and wait for them. And the tent seemed like the best place to launch our surprise. The three of us climbed into the two man tent and zipped up the flap behind us. The space seemed bigger from the outside. The air was still. Three guys in a tent: crouching, shuffling, and grunting. Little was said, for we expected Ben and Dan to show any minute. The seconds turned into minutes and the ridiculousness of the situation became clearer. Finally, Stuart, who is often the first to see reason and the practicality of things, suggested that perhaps it would be just as effective to surprise them from the bushes as it would be from the close quartered tent. It was pointed out that the effect of leaping from the bushes would be more terrifying than three guys huddled on their knees waving their arms and hands from a small tent opening. So, out we climbed, awkward but undeterred.
We waited and waited. Finally we heard someone coming. But something was wrong; the sound was coming from the wrong direction. They were approaching from the other way. We crouched low realizing that we were exposed from that approach. Delta Force we were not. It was too late to move. We remained crouching, half in the bushes, as several people came by (not Ben or Dan). They gave us a curious hello which we returned with silence hoping that if we were silent we would also be invisible.
After they passed we realized the jig was up. Those that had just passed would likely report to those at the end of the island, including Ben and Dan, that there were people skulking in the bushes. Perhaps that would keep everybody at the end of the island for the rest of the night, which really wasn’t our purpose. We realized the element of surprise had been lost; we walked back to the house, mission unaccomplished.
The next morning we confessed our dastardly plan to Ben. Ben laughed and said he had been wondering who it was when it was reported at the end of the island that “there were some “old guys” back in the bushes”.
Russet in the Hole! - By Gordy Marshall
A couple years ago several of us “men” were hanging out on the porch in Gloucester; it was a quiet, slow day that needed a little shaking up. Somehow it was proposed that we build a potato gun. Stuart, one of the instigators, was clearly excited, for how often does one get to build something that shoots large brown objects great distances. It was also a cool project for Stuart because it involved gathering disparate parts and combining them together to make an incredibly powerful tool/weapon, a potato projectile. Stuart has always been intrigued with how things work and how they are put together; he had once told me that as a kid he enjoyed taking everything apart, whether it was toasters, or lawn mowers, just to see how they tick. Throughout his life he thrived with a great curiosity.
We went to work gathering all the appropriate pieces: a three foot piece of PVC pipe for the barrel, a starter for an outdoor grill to produce the spark, two bolts to help with the ignition, duck tape, several more pieces of PVC that would make up the explosive chamber, and hair spray. The power of hair spray has clearly been under-appreciated.
Rob, Chris and I had a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of skill and a lot of enthusiasm. Those are a dangerous combination when dealing with accelerants, pressure, and sparks. This was complimented, and a danger mitigated, by an equally enthusiastic Stuart who could work magic with his hands. Stuart, though he had little or no experience in the art of building a potato gun, was very capable with PVC. Not only is he an exceptional builder but a good plumber as well. He glued up the pieces and ensured that the seals were tight, reducing the chance of an unexpected, misdirected explosion. He and the rest of us got down into the details of how to appropriately set up the firing mechanism.
Throughout the process there was another part of Stuart that was evident but less obvious. It is a part of Stuart that I have seen so many times before on other more serious “projects” we have done together; there is was calmness, an inner strength, and quiet confidence shown by Stuart that reassures everyone around him.
Thanks to Stuart, the construction of the potato gun went without a hitch. We were reasonably confident we could fire out a potato and we were reasonably confident that it would not blow up in our faces. Someone was so confident that they got their baseball glove on and ran to the other side of the small bay/inlet to catch the brown vegetable, but perhaps they ran to the other side because they were not as confident about the blowing up in the face part.
So, we took our two and a half inch russet and rammed it down the three foot barrel with a long pole. It felt like we were in Napoleons army ready to battle with the rest of Europe. Fortunately Moscow wasn’t in our sights, ‘cause that didn’t turn out so well. Rather, our target was an innocent youth with a baseball glove one hundred and fifty yards away. We figured we wouldn’t even get close to him, that the russet would go half that distance and fall gracefully into the water between us.
One of us held on to the long barrel and aimed it, and another sprayed hair spray into the ignition chamber. The back of the gun was quickly closed to keep in the fumes, and the outdoor grill button was then pushed to send a spark to the chamber. Others covered their ears and squinted. All of a sudden there was a ‘thunk” and flame shot out the end. We looked up as this blur rifled through the air, heading straight towards the hapless outfielder. In no more than a second it whistled right past his head. He hadn’t even had time to raise his glove up for protection. We didn’t aim it at anyone after that.
I hadn’t seen Stuart laugh that hard in a long time. Stuart has always been a very peaceful guy but that day he built a cannon and loved it.
We went to work gathering all the appropriate pieces: a three foot piece of PVC pipe for the barrel, a starter for an outdoor grill to produce the spark, two bolts to help with the ignition, duck tape, several more pieces of PVC that would make up the explosive chamber, and hair spray. The power of hair spray has clearly been under-appreciated.
Rob, Chris and I had a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of skill and a lot of enthusiasm. Those are a dangerous combination when dealing with accelerants, pressure, and sparks. This was complimented, and a danger mitigated, by an equally enthusiastic Stuart who could work magic with his hands. Stuart, though he had little or no experience in the art of building a potato gun, was very capable with PVC. Not only is he an exceptional builder but a good plumber as well. He glued up the pieces and ensured that the seals were tight, reducing the chance of an unexpected, misdirected explosion. He and the rest of us got down into the details of how to appropriately set up the firing mechanism.
Throughout the process there was another part of Stuart that was evident but less obvious. It is a part of Stuart that I have seen so many times before on other more serious “projects” we have done together; there is was calmness, an inner strength, and quiet confidence shown by Stuart that reassures everyone around him.
Thanks to Stuart, the construction of the potato gun went without a hitch. We were reasonably confident we could fire out a potato and we were reasonably confident that it would not blow up in our faces. Someone was so confident that they got their baseball glove on and ran to the other side of the small bay/inlet to catch the brown vegetable, but perhaps they ran to the other side because they were not as confident about the blowing up in the face part.
So, we took our two and a half inch russet and rammed it down the three foot barrel with a long pole. It felt like we were in Napoleons army ready to battle with the rest of Europe. Fortunately Moscow wasn’t in our sights, ‘cause that didn’t turn out so well. Rather, our target was an innocent youth with a baseball glove one hundred and fifty yards away. We figured we wouldn’t even get close to him, that the russet would go half that distance and fall gracefully into the water between us.
One of us held on to the long barrel and aimed it, and another sprayed hair spray into the ignition chamber. The back of the gun was quickly closed to keep in the fumes, and the outdoor grill button was then pushed to send a spark to the chamber. Others covered their ears and squinted. All of a sudden there was a ‘thunk” and flame shot out the end. We looked up as this blur rifled through the air, heading straight towards the hapless outfielder. In no more than a second it whistled right past his head. He hadn’t even had time to raise his glove up for protection. We didn’t aim it at anyone after that.
I hadn’t seen Stuart laugh that hard in a long time. Stuart has always been a very peaceful guy but that day he built a cannon and loved it.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Rembering Stuart - By Craig Andersen
In the span of one’s life you will meet many people, some of which are in your life only briefly, while others become part of your life, but more importantly these people form a place in your heart and minds. Stuart was one such person for me.
Stuart and I met about 10 years ago. Our relationship started out as an employer / employee, but became much more over the years.
He was a person I had great respect and admiration for. I looked up to Stuart not only by how he conducted his life as my boss, fellow carpenter, family man, but as a person. He is one of the few people I’ve met in my lifetime who was truly a wonderfully person. One you could trust with your life. Stuart was a person that left a lasting impression on many, which is not an easy accomplishment. It’s truly a tribute to the person he was, I can only hope I can conduct my life the same.
Over the years I only wish I had the opportunity to have some of the personal adventures as some of you have shared. They all sound like they were a great times. So… instead of adventures, I will share some personal thoughts about Stuart, and the impression he left on my life; Stuart was a man of many talents. He was never afraid to try anything, such as: Carpenter, Sailor, Car Enthusiast, Cabinet Maker, and foremost, an excellent Finish Carpenter. I’m sure there are many other accomplishments that should be mentioned, but these are the ones I personally know best. Not only was Stuart capable of doing all these things, but he completed them with excellence.
Fortunately, I had the pleasure of working closely with Stuart on many complex custom projects during the years of employment with them. All of which was an experience for which I learned valuable skills from him, and continue to apply them in some form or fashion even in my life today.
One experience I have taken with me in my life today is with regards to how both Doug and Stuart treated their employees. They were the best bosses I’ve ever had, and that experience is one in which I try to apply in my job today, as a business owner myself.
They truly made you feel as part of the team and part of their success, and always gave recognition for your personal accomplishments on the job. They both should be very proud of the business they have built over the years. It is not easy to have a successful business in construction, such as the one they have. It takes great commitment and personal strength to maintain the reputation that they, as well as their business are known for. Job well done!
Well… I could go on forever about the wonderful person he was, and the impression he has made in my life, but I think I will end this note by asking one very important question; what was with the potato chips? Stuart had to have potato chips neatly placed inside every sandwich he ever ate, and if he didn’t have chips with him, we would pick them up during the lunch run. It appears this was a deeply rooted routine, which even extend beyond the work lunches.
Craig Andersen
Stuart and I met about 10 years ago. Our relationship started out as an employer / employee, but became much more over the years.
He was a person I had great respect and admiration for. I looked up to Stuart not only by how he conducted his life as my boss, fellow carpenter, family man, but as a person. He is one of the few people I’ve met in my lifetime who was truly a wonderfully person. One you could trust with your life. Stuart was a person that left a lasting impression on many, which is not an easy accomplishment. It’s truly a tribute to the person he was, I can only hope I can conduct my life the same.
Over the years I only wish I had the opportunity to have some of the personal adventures as some of you have shared. They all sound like they were a great times. So… instead of adventures, I will share some personal thoughts about Stuart, and the impression he left on my life; Stuart was a man of many talents. He was never afraid to try anything, such as: Carpenter, Sailor, Car Enthusiast, Cabinet Maker, and foremost, an excellent Finish Carpenter. I’m sure there are many other accomplishments that should be mentioned, but these are the ones I personally know best. Not only was Stuart capable of doing all these things, but he completed them with excellence.
Fortunately, I had the pleasure of working closely with Stuart on many complex custom projects during the years of employment with them. All of which was an experience for which I learned valuable skills from him, and continue to apply them in some form or fashion even in my life today.
One experience I have taken with me in my life today is with regards to how both Doug and Stuart treated their employees. They were the best bosses I’ve ever had, and that experience is one in which I try to apply in my job today, as a business owner myself.
They truly made you feel as part of the team and part of their success, and always gave recognition for your personal accomplishments on the job. They both should be very proud of the business they have built over the years. It is not easy to have a successful business in construction, such as the one they have. It takes great commitment and personal strength to maintain the reputation that they, as well as their business are known for. Job well done!
Well… I could go on forever about the wonderful person he was, and the impression he has made in my life, but I think I will end this note by asking one very important question; what was with the potato chips? Stuart had to have potato chips neatly placed inside every sandwich he ever ate, and if he didn’t have chips with him, we would pick them up during the lunch run. It appears this was a deeply rooted routine, which even extend beyond the work lunches.
Craig Andersen
The Boat Builder - By Steve Aveson
I never sailed with Stuart, though I'll always treasure the time our families ran in to each other on Nantucket and he promised the chance to join him one day.
When I went to visit Stuart and Karen at the beginning of May it seemed clear that promise might never be realized but now I have a different thought.
After spending time with Stuart and John Kimball I was letting myself out the door to head to work when Karen suggested that we go around back.
She wanted to show me Stuarts final masterpiece. It's a boat that shows the pride of craftsmanship that exudes in all his professional work. But there seemed to be an echo of love in this project that gave it a distinction.
Karen briefly lamented how the project was at once a passion and a distraction, one that might have been an escape from worry on the one hand and a slight guilty pleasure on the other.
That said, she wished that he'd been able to finish the work. Perhaps that may yet happen. Perhaps there is one amoung us, or two or three, who know much more about such things than I.....and if so.....I hope you find inspiration to finish the job that Stuart began.
I'll go for coffee, spend some money and keep you company....in return for a that long promised sailing date.
Best,
Steve Aveson
p.s. Continuing the nautical tribute, here is an adaptation of Henry Van Dykes "Immortality"
"I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, 'There she goes!'
Gone where? Gone from my sight ... that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'There she goes!' there are other eyes watching her coming and their voices ready to take up the glad shouts 'Here she comes!'"
~ by Henry Van Dyke ~
When I went to visit Stuart and Karen at the beginning of May it seemed clear that promise might never be realized but now I have a different thought.
After spending time with Stuart and John Kimball I was letting myself out the door to head to work when Karen suggested that we go around back.
She wanted to show me Stuarts final masterpiece. It's a boat that shows the pride of craftsmanship that exudes in all his professional work. But there seemed to be an echo of love in this project that gave it a distinction.
Karen briefly lamented how the project was at once a passion and a distraction, one that might have been an escape from worry on the one hand and a slight guilty pleasure on the other.
That said, she wished that he'd been able to finish the work. Perhaps that may yet happen. Perhaps there is one amoung us, or two or three, who know much more about such things than I.....and if so.....I hope you find inspiration to finish the job that Stuart began.
I'll go for coffee, spend some money and keep you company....in return for a that long promised sailing date.
Best,
Steve Aveson
p.s. Continuing the nautical tribute, here is an adaptation of Henry Van Dykes "Immortality"
"I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, 'There she goes!'
Gone where? Gone from my sight ... that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'There she goes!' there are other eyes watching her coming and their voices ready to take up the glad shouts 'Here she comes!'"
~ by Henry Van Dyke ~
Somewhere off Scituate - By John Kimball
2 weeks prior to Stuart's initial diagnosis he and I took an afternoon off to go fly fishing for striped bass off of Scituate. We had talked about doing this for awhile -- Andy Bonzagni had hooked Stuart and Bill Kelly up with Fly Casting Lessons for one of their 50th Birthdays - I think it was Bill's. They were taught by a guy named Lou Tabory who is a legend in Saltwater Flyfishing (Bill may have to weigh in on this as I am sure it was an interesting weekend).
Having essentially lived on the water physically and in spirit all of his life, Stuart was a "Sailor" and apparently "Sailors" do not fish and definitely raise their noses at those of us who do. But saltwater flyfishing sounded snobby enough even for Stuart to try.
Stuart arrived that afternoon in his newly restored MG convertible. (Doug would later surprise Stuart by having the MG newly painted while Stuart was undergoing treatments) As he drove up the driveway I just got a big smile -- silver hair and shades - here he was in yet another car. I half expected him to step out with pipe and ascot!! "Where's the Porsche?" I asked -- he just gave me the Stuart grin and said that was long gone.
We put my little outboard boat in on the Cohasset Harbor ramp and Stuart was psyched to see several Herreschoff 12 1/2 sailboats on moorings. This was the boat that he was working on building in his garage so we pulled up alongside one so he could see a detail inside the boat that he was trying to figure out. If you aren't familiar with these boats, they are works of art -- Stuart was building the Haven 12 1/2 (designed by Joel White - son of E.B. White)which has the exact above water lines and intricate details as the Herreschof but replaces the keel with a centerboard so that you can trailer it more easily and sail it in shallow water. (By the way, I learned all this from Stuart!!) He had pictures of the progress on his hull - it was beautiful - he said that one of his dreams would be to live closer to the water so that he could take this boat out for evening sails after work. Anyone who has worked with wood would really appreciate the beauty of this boat and the difficulty in building it..
We hung out on the water for a few hours -- it turned out that Stuart could have probably used a refresher on fly casting -- his was a kind of up and down cast as opposed to the ideal forward and backward motion! He admitted he had not picked up a rod since the lessons! But he and I were having fun and we caught ALOT (really!!) of small schoolie Stripers that afternoon. As Alison said, Stuart would try anything.
At one point we pulled into a little cove and just drifted and had lunch -- we caught up on family, work, hobbies and life in general. I asked him how he knew how to restore the MG and he said he just bought a manual on the internet!! Stuart at his best. We both agreed that our lives were pretty good -- I asked him if there was anything else he wanted or needed in life and strangely (but I doubt prophetically) he said he would like more time. That day he meant more time for things like boat building, sailing, traveling etc...
Another weird thing that day -- as we were moving along in the boat his hat flew off -- it was a WoodenBoat hat with the name "Whisper" on the back - it was the name of the boat he was building. We went back and never found the hat -- later, following the diagnosis, Stuart decided to change the boat's name to "Hope" and Karen bought him a new hat.
We had dinner and a couple of beers at a little downtown tavern -- when we got back to my house he said he wanted to come in and say hi to Heidi and the kids. As he climbed back into his car to head home he laughed and said he hoped the MG would hold up on the highway! My son Jack told Stuart he loved his race car!
I will remember that day forever - I feel so lucky to have had that carefree afternoon with him while he was still well.
John Kimball
Having essentially lived on the water physically and in spirit all of his life, Stuart was a "Sailor" and apparently "Sailors" do not fish and definitely raise their noses at those of us who do. But saltwater flyfishing sounded snobby enough even for Stuart to try.
Stuart arrived that afternoon in his newly restored MG convertible. (Doug would later surprise Stuart by having the MG newly painted while Stuart was undergoing treatments) As he drove up the driveway I just got a big smile -- silver hair and shades - here he was in yet another car. I half expected him to step out with pipe and ascot!! "Where's the Porsche?" I asked -- he just gave me the Stuart grin and said that was long gone.
We put my little outboard boat in on the Cohasset Harbor ramp and Stuart was psyched to see several Herreschoff 12 1/2 sailboats on moorings. This was the boat that he was working on building in his garage so we pulled up alongside one so he could see a detail inside the boat that he was trying to figure out. If you aren't familiar with these boats, they are works of art -- Stuart was building the Haven 12 1/2 (designed by Joel White - son of E.B. White)which has the exact above water lines and intricate details as the Herreschof but replaces the keel with a centerboard so that you can trailer it more easily and sail it in shallow water. (By the way, I learned all this from Stuart!!) He had pictures of the progress on his hull - it was beautiful - he said that one of his dreams would be to live closer to the water so that he could take this boat out for evening sails after work. Anyone who has worked with wood would really appreciate the beauty of this boat and the difficulty in building it..
We hung out on the water for a few hours -- it turned out that Stuart could have probably used a refresher on fly casting -- his was a kind of up and down cast as opposed to the ideal forward and backward motion! He admitted he had not picked up a rod since the lessons! But he and I were having fun and we caught ALOT (really!!) of small schoolie Stripers that afternoon. As Alison said, Stuart would try anything.
At one point we pulled into a little cove and just drifted and had lunch -- we caught up on family, work, hobbies and life in general. I asked him how he knew how to restore the MG and he said he just bought a manual on the internet!! Stuart at his best. We both agreed that our lives were pretty good -- I asked him if there was anything else he wanted or needed in life and strangely (but I doubt prophetically) he said he would like more time. That day he meant more time for things like boat building, sailing, traveling etc...
Another weird thing that day -- as we were moving along in the boat his hat flew off -- it was a WoodenBoat hat with the name "Whisper" on the back - it was the name of the boat he was building. We went back and never found the hat -- later, following the diagnosis, Stuart decided to change the boat's name to "Hope" and Karen bought him a new hat.
We had dinner and a couple of beers at a little downtown tavern -- when we got back to my house he said he wanted to come in and say hi to Heidi and the kids. As he climbed back into his car to head home he laughed and said he hoped the MG would hold up on the highway! My son Jack told Stuart he loved his race car!
I will remember that day forever - I feel so lucky to have had that carefree afternoon with him while he was still well.
John Kimball
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Stage Harbor Light
My cousin John and his wife Melanie wrote the following in a card that arrived today. It's just beautiful and reminds me so much of all the wonderfuls weekends the Whitla Family spent together at Pete and Judy Hoyt's lighthouse in Chatham. This historic lighthouse, bought by Pete's family in the 30's, sits at the mouth of Stage Harbor, at the end of a long spit of sand, surrounded by acres of conservation land and gorgeous beaches. It is at once incredibly remote (unchanged through the ages - without running water or electricity) and yet at the center of Chatham's busy harbor. It is truly heaven on earth - and our weekends there each summer were magical family togetherness.
"The tide recedes but leaves behind bright seashells on the sand,
The sun goes down but gentle warmth still lingers on the land,
The music stops and yet it echoes on in sweet refrains,
For every joy that passes something beautiful remains."
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
From Betsy Ostreicher
Dear Karen, Ben and Alison,
I was stunned and very saddened to hear of Stuarts passing. I recall his quiet way and his beautiful craftsmanship throughout your lovely home, his sporty little car in the driveway. The love and dedication you shared as a family is to be admired. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
Sincerely, Betsy Ostreicher
I was stunned and very saddened to hear of Stuarts passing. I recall his quiet way and his beautiful craftsmanship throughout your lovely home, his sporty little car in the driveway. The love and dedication you shared as a family is to be admired. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
Sincerely, Betsy Ostreicher
Over the Rainbow - By Kathy Marshall
Aiden & Stuart
Children enter the world via the Rainbow Bridge in the world of Aidan, one of uart’s nephews. We’ve been listening to “Somewhere over the Rainbow” a lot lately. Amidst the sound of Izzy (Israel Kamakawiwo’ole) singing his breathy, ukulele version of his classic, Aidan burst out, “Mommy, Stuart has made it over the Rainbow now! We’ll see him soon there! Well not too soon, but pretty soon!”
Children enter the world via the Rainbow Bridge in the world of Aidan, one of uart’s nephews. We’ve been listening to “Somewhere over the Rainbow” a lot lately. Amidst the sound of Izzy (Israel Kamakawiwo’ole) singing his breathy, ukulele version of his classic, Aidan burst out, “Mommy, Stuart has made it over the Rainbow now! We’ll see him soon there! Well not too soon, but pretty soon!”
Monday, May 14, 2007
Life with Stuart - By Lucille Rossignol and Paul LaViolette
It is so wonderful reading all these memories of Stuart. Here's one of our stories:
THE PRELUDE
My husband, Paul LaViolette, bought our 1873, Second Empire, mansard-roof Victorian home in Wellesley in 1986 for $250K (a lot of money in those days, but apparently one of the cheapest houses in town. Here's why.) It had been rented for 12 years + , the fireplace chimney leaned AWAY from the house a foot and a half; you couldn't walk up the front steps without walking on the outside edges...the treads were all broken through; the kitchen cabinets had curtains across them; the back shed attached to the kitchen (wide open) had no heat; the cesspool in the back (original to the house) was constantly overflowing down the neighbor's driveway; one heating zone for a four bedroom house, all old radiators; the basement oil-burning furnace made of 3" thick cast iron looked like R2-D2 on steroids and had a hole in one side the size of a small, oval BREADBOX (you could look in and see the fire); all the dormers leaked every (and I mean every) single time it rained; two thirds of the windows were broken; the squirrels and chipmunks held mating rituals and track and field heats throughout the exterior soffits of the house and kept us company every night with their shenanigans above the dropped ceiling of our bedroom; it was an ecologically friendly home with an interior wall beehive on the second floor the size of three average front doors.
On to the basement: the floor was dirt and gravel; when it rained, pools collected in various places. My husband had placed the washer and dryer there and vented the dryer into a bucket of water....the cobwebs were so bad, it was a Halloween extravaganza. If the clean clothes fell on the floor, they immediately had to be re-washed. The old field stone foundation was leaking so badly, the stones were bulging in and out and beginning to lose their promise of holding up the structure; ferns grew on the inside of the foundation wall.......a rodent's heaven.....the "handyman's" garage, configured underneath the house had a garage door broken in the "up" position and if you stood inside it and looked up, you could see directly through the flooring of the room above, the dining room.....winter's were chilly....but the LOVE was HOT!!
I came into the picture in 1991, risking giving up my cozy Boston South End apartment for this man, because, after being divorced for nearly 12 years, I walked into his house (with all of its despair) and for the first time in my life, felt like this could be MY home.
The old bones of this structure were there and invited me in. I felt an energy here I had never felt before. I was so right. This would become OUR home. My Paul had a vision... a big vision. A simple marketing guy, he had an idea and was determined to see it through. He loved wood, had refurbished an old house in Newton, and spent countless hours trying to resurrect this old beauty in Wellesley. LOVE.... is there anything it can't fix???
ENTER WHITLA BROTHERS
For at least six months, we had envied (I mean jealously envied) the beautiful carriage house/garage the "Whitla Brothers" had done for the Pratt family on Abbott Road. We drove by a hundred times ogling the shape, the size, the windows, the stone foundation, the shingling, reading the sign on the front lawn that said "Whitla Brothers...Fine home Builders". We could NEVER afford them, we said, but the style and character was everything we had ever wanted, everything we had ever dreamed of for our old house.
Finally, we thought, we'll present them a small job, the front alcove ( a true remuddling) and see if they can fix it, make it look right for the period. We had hired an architect, Marjorie Marks, who came up with a design we were very happy with. It'll be the "nose job" the house needs, we thought.. We'll get a bid for the project from the Whitla Brothers and if they get it right, maybe they'll help us with the rest of the house.
Stuart and Doug put together a proposal and were finally ready to present it to us. We were nervous, having never gone through this process before. I thought we should make a good first impression, so I put out a spread of "heavy hor d'oeuvres", shrimp cocktail etc., beer and wine, so we could relax and discuss the project. That made them both even more nervous than we were, I think. Stuart walks in and says, "Uh, are you guys planning to have a party or something?" 'No", I said, "it's close to dinner time I thought you might like a bite to eat." Stuart then casually tosses the proposal on the table and says, "well here it is". They both seemed nice enough, though a little green in their marketing skills. After looking at their proposal we thought, "hey, we can afford this" and went with them and never looked back. John Kimball did the entire finish trim on that alcove, by the way. Fifteen years and eight projects later, Doug and Stuart "Whitla Brothers" became OUR brothers, our real friends.
In today's world, in Wellesley especially, most home owners and builders would have demolished the old bones of our building, rebuilt from scratch, top to bottom, fully finished, fully decorated and landscaped within a one or two year period. We did it the old fashioned way, I guess. We threw every bonus check, every extra sum of money we could, as our family started to grow, into this special house. We wanted the outside observer to have trouble distinguishing between what was old and what was new. And Doug and Stuart were the only ones who could help with the deception.
We have grown older now with Doug and Stuart. And with each new project on our house, their talents grew exponentially. Stuart became a craftsman beyond all our expectations. All our architect had to do was draw an overview scale of drawings once, and Doug and Stuart took it from there. What ever the challenge, Stuart would mull it over and come up with a solution that inevitably was the right one. He was quiet, soft spoken, but if his crew was engaged in a conversation, whenever he opened his mouth, his comments were poignant, over-the-top hysterically funny, or deeply serious. He never spoke unless he had something really important to say .I loved that and will always love that about him.
In our minds, Doug and Stuart were inseparable. One always covered for the other, or at least faked it superbly. They are closer than most brothers. And certainly not your typical family business.
Stuart, the energy you expended in our home remains here; a reminder that you were here and you did something special, very special for us. Our house is surrounded with memories of you and Doug and all the crews that have passed through here. Everywhere we turn, everywhere we look, your hand touched a wall, a window, a threshhold, a cabinet, a door knob we still use every day. Thank you for all your gifts. For all you have done for us.
Smooth sailing, dear Stuart. And send us a sign now and then from heaven. We'll be so longing for them.
Lucille Rossignol and Paul LaViolette
THE PRELUDE
My husband, Paul LaViolette, bought our 1873, Second Empire, mansard-roof Victorian home in Wellesley in 1986 for $250K (a lot of money in those days, but apparently one of the cheapest houses in town. Here's why.) It had been rented for 12 years + , the fireplace chimney leaned AWAY from the house a foot and a half; you couldn't walk up the front steps without walking on the outside edges...the treads were all broken through; the kitchen cabinets had curtains across them; the back shed attached to the kitchen (wide open) had no heat; the cesspool in the back (original to the house) was constantly overflowing down the neighbor's driveway; one heating zone for a four bedroom house, all old radiators; the basement oil-burning furnace made of 3" thick cast iron looked like R2-D2 on steroids and had a hole in one side the size of a small, oval BREADBOX (you could look in and see the fire); all the dormers leaked every (and I mean every) single time it rained; two thirds of the windows were broken; the squirrels and chipmunks held mating rituals and track and field heats throughout the exterior soffits of the house and kept us company every night with their shenanigans above the dropped ceiling of our bedroom; it was an ecologically friendly home with an interior wall beehive on the second floor the size of three average front doors.
On to the basement: the floor was dirt and gravel; when it rained, pools collected in various places. My husband had placed the washer and dryer there and vented the dryer into a bucket of water....the cobwebs were so bad, it was a Halloween extravaganza. If the clean clothes fell on the floor, they immediately had to be re-washed. The old field stone foundation was leaking so badly, the stones were bulging in and out and beginning to lose their promise of holding up the structure; ferns grew on the inside of the foundation wall.......a rodent's heaven.....the "handyman's" garage, configured underneath the house had a garage door broken in the "up" position and if you stood inside it and looked up, you could see directly through the flooring of the room above, the dining room.....winter's were chilly....but the LOVE was HOT!!
I came into the picture in 1991, risking giving up my cozy Boston South End apartment for this man, because, after being divorced for nearly 12 years, I walked into his house (with all of its despair) and for the first time in my life, felt like this could be MY home.
The old bones of this structure were there and invited me in. I felt an energy here I had never felt before. I was so right. This would become OUR home. My Paul had a vision... a big vision. A simple marketing guy, he had an idea and was determined to see it through. He loved wood, had refurbished an old house in Newton, and spent countless hours trying to resurrect this old beauty in Wellesley. LOVE.... is there anything it can't fix???
ENTER WHITLA BROTHERS
For at least six months, we had envied (I mean jealously envied) the beautiful carriage house/garage the "Whitla Brothers" had done for the Pratt family on Abbott Road. We drove by a hundred times ogling the shape, the size, the windows, the stone foundation, the shingling, reading the sign on the front lawn that said "Whitla Brothers...Fine home Builders". We could NEVER afford them, we said, but the style and character was everything we had ever wanted, everything we had ever dreamed of for our old house.
Finally, we thought, we'll present them a small job, the front alcove ( a true remuddling) and see if they can fix it, make it look right for the period. We had hired an architect, Marjorie Marks, who came up with a design we were very happy with. It'll be the "nose job" the house needs, we thought.. We'll get a bid for the project from the Whitla Brothers and if they get it right, maybe they'll help us with the rest of the house.
Stuart and Doug put together a proposal and were finally ready to present it to us. We were nervous, having never gone through this process before. I thought we should make a good first impression, so I put out a spread of "heavy hor d'oeuvres", shrimp cocktail etc., beer and wine, so we could relax and discuss the project. That made them both even more nervous than we were, I think. Stuart walks in and says, "Uh, are you guys planning to have a party or something?" 'No", I said, "it's close to dinner time I thought you might like a bite to eat." Stuart then casually tosses the proposal on the table and says, "well here it is". They both seemed nice enough, though a little green in their marketing skills. After looking at their proposal we thought, "hey, we can afford this" and went with them and never looked back. John Kimball did the entire finish trim on that alcove, by the way. Fifteen years and eight projects later, Doug and Stuart "Whitla Brothers" became OUR brothers, our real friends.
In today's world, in Wellesley especially, most home owners and builders would have demolished the old bones of our building, rebuilt from scratch, top to bottom, fully finished, fully decorated and landscaped within a one or two year period. We did it the old fashioned way, I guess. We threw every bonus check, every extra sum of money we could, as our family started to grow, into this special house. We wanted the outside observer to have trouble distinguishing between what was old and what was new. And Doug and Stuart were the only ones who could help with the deception.
We have grown older now with Doug and Stuart. And with each new project on our house, their talents grew exponentially. Stuart became a craftsman beyond all our expectations. All our architect had to do was draw an overview scale of drawings once, and Doug and Stuart took it from there. What ever the challenge, Stuart would mull it over and come up with a solution that inevitably was the right one. He was quiet, soft spoken, but if his crew was engaged in a conversation, whenever he opened his mouth, his comments were poignant, over-the-top hysterically funny, or deeply serious. He never spoke unless he had something really important to say .I loved that and will always love that about him.
In our minds, Doug and Stuart were inseparable. One always covered for the other, or at least faked it superbly. They are closer than most brothers. And certainly not your typical family business.
Stuart, the energy you expended in our home remains here; a reminder that you were here and you did something special, very special for us. Our house is surrounded with memories of you and Doug and all the crews that have passed through here. Everywhere we turn, everywhere we look, your hand touched a wall, a window, a threshhold, a cabinet, a door knob we still use every day. Thank you for all your gifts. For all you have done for us.
Smooth sailing, dear Stuart. And send us a sign now and then from heaven. We'll be so longing for them.
Lucille Rossignol and Paul LaViolette
On the topic of Seattle..
I remember when we all came out to visit Ben after he moved there and went to see him at work at Ride.
Ben had talked about the half pipe at work and how he could skate board now. None of us believed it but he had the opportunity to prove us wrong. Afterwards, of course, dad wanted to try. Mom protested but dad did it anyway. I think he maybe got as far as standing on the skateboard....maybe. Then wiped out, hard. Dad learned maybe he wouldnt be able to skateboard. but, man...that is so much of his character, he was never that father you could get birthday cards for about 'sharing the remote control'. He was active, he was involved, and he was so fun. Ive missed his smile so much lately. Even the absolutely beaming smile he gave me in his last few days where after he told me a story about his childhood....he pulled my hair and told me he had been lying the whole time.
So many stories, so little time.
I will miss him always and love him forever.
Daddy's little girl
Ben had talked about the half pipe at work and how he could skate board now. None of us believed it but he had the opportunity to prove us wrong. Afterwards, of course, dad wanted to try. Mom protested but dad did it anyway. I think he maybe got as far as standing on the skateboard....maybe. Then wiped out, hard. Dad learned maybe he wouldnt be able to skateboard. but, man...that is so much of his character, he was never that father you could get birthday cards for about 'sharing the remote control'. He was active, he was involved, and he was so fun. Ive missed his smile so much lately. Even the absolutely beaming smile he gave me in his last few days where after he told me a story about his childhood....he pulled my hair and told me he had been lying the whole time.
So many stories, so little time.
I will miss him always and love him forever.
Daddy's little girl
Douglas Weighs In....
Just wanted to let everyone know how much I’m enjoying this blog (no, it’s not a sailing term, Patty – he was probably muttering “the head’s clogged” not “the head’s blogged”). The great stories and pictures make me laugh and cry all at the same time. Of course I’ve got a few stories to share – and I will, when I get up the energy… in the meantime, please just keep them coming and know that I’m loving all of it. I miss him. Douglas
robots
john kimball just reminded me of a story i should tell.
i had just pretty much accepted a job working as a design for Ride Snowboards (in Seattle!), and had to fly out there to: interview (on an ISLAND), find an apartment, and make a decision as to whether or not i actually take the job. we had something like 3 days, 2 nights. we stayed in a trendy but cool (glowing cubes for tables, but above a bar i think kept dad up at night) hotel. we wandered the city a bit, dad met my future boss ("styk", a 40 year old with a faux-hawk). eventually we did a mad dash of finding an apartment, in one day.. which we did. this involved picking a neighborhood in a city neither of us knew anything about, finding available apartments, seeing them (cat pee, bad carpeting, rotting ceilings, expensive rent) and eventually signing a lease. we did find the apartment. nice, with hardwood floors, and old ice box (which i turned into a wine rack) and arched doorways. an excellent studio apartment.
all of this left us just enough time to go over and see a movie at the imax theater inside of that old worlds fair park thing. i think it was raining (seattle, remember?), we were exhausted, and the only thing playing was the animated movie Robots. So we went.
Anyone seen this? It's basically about a son going off into the world, leaving his father's protective care and becoming an independent member of society. or at least that's what i recall.
By the end of the movie we look at each other and realize we had both been crying at the end. i'm not sure how many disney movies there are about this, but we, of course, managed to find the one out then and see it, as we had been overwhelmingly experiencing it for 3 long days.
another small snapshot: i think after a couple too many beer's one night (after accepting the job at Ride, i suspect) i also warned dad i'd be getting a ship tattoo for him. so, mom: he was warned.
i had just pretty much accepted a job working as a design for Ride Snowboards (in Seattle!), and had to fly out there to: interview (on an ISLAND), find an apartment, and make a decision as to whether or not i actually take the job. we had something like 3 days, 2 nights. we stayed in a trendy but cool (glowing cubes for tables, but above a bar i think kept dad up at night) hotel. we wandered the city a bit, dad met my future boss ("styk", a 40 year old with a faux-hawk). eventually we did a mad dash of finding an apartment, in one day.. which we did. this involved picking a neighborhood in a city neither of us knew anything about, finding available apartments, seeing them (cat pee, bad carpeting, rotting ceilings, expensive rent) and eventually signing a lease. we did find the apartment. nice, with hardwood floors, and old ice box (which i turned into a wine rack) and arched doorways. an excellent studio apartment.
all of this left us just enough time to go over and see a movie at the imax theater inside of that old worlds fair park thing. i think it was raining (seattle, remember?), we were exhausted, and the only thing playing was the animated movie Robots. So we went.
Anyone seen this? It's basically about a son going off into the world, leaving his father's protective care and becoming an independent member of society. or at least that's what i recall.
By the end of the movie we look at each other and realize we had both been crying at the end. i'm not sure how many disney movies there are about this, but we, of course, managed to find the one out then and see it, as we had been overwhelmingly experiencing it for 3 long days.
another small snapshot: i think after a couple too many beer's one night (after accepting the job at Ride, i suspect) i also warned dad i'd be getting a ship tattoo for him. so, mom: he was warned.
Extreme Stuart
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"Extreme Stuart".JPG)
"Ann, I know he's 'Hollywood', but I'm a little busy right now..."
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With the gorgeous Wheaton Girls (and some old lady on the left)
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"' Hey, Tom, when you call me "Stu", you take the "art" out of my name'"I'm sure all of you know that in October 2005, Stuart and Douglas were part of the "Home Team", a group of Medfield builders who came together to build a house for the Johnson Family in 4 days, 2 hours - and broadcast on ABC's "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition".
Douglas first learned of the project from a former client, Mike Sullivan, Medfield's Town Administrator (and owner of Whitla Brothers' most contemporary house). While Douglas immediately wanted in - Will Johnson, the boy afflicted with SMA, is just the same age as our Stuart and we know the family - he wasn't sure how easily he could convince Stuart to donate lots of hours, lots of work, lots of money and supplies, and lose lots of sleep. Afterall, Whitla Brothers was straight out with too much work (as usual), Stuart didn't know the family, didn't know the other builders, didn't live in Medfield... but Douglas also knew a big heart of gold beat in his brother's chest. He knew Stuart would want in if he could just get him to the first meeting. So, like any conniving little brother, he lied. He called Stuart one September morning and casually told him they were both needed at a meeting for a possible new job in Medfield. He ignored all of Stuart's follow up questions. So, unsuspecting Stuart wandered into the first meeting and Douglas locked the door. Of course, the rest is history - Stuart wholeheartedly signed onto the project.
Stuart and Douglas were in charge of interior finish, until the exterior guy faltered and they had to take that on, too. So, Stuart was assigned the inside, Douglas assigned the outside (I know... "and what were the other guys doing?"). In the intensity of that project, what Douglas remembers most is the brotherly bond of support he felt with Stuart. Instead of sleeping in preparation for the interior work, Stuart stayed by Douglas' side all night while the exterior was being completed - and when problems arose, Stuart fixed them. When laying the patio presented a huge challenge, and Douglas was sleep deprived, it was Stuart who came to his aid, and together, they solved the problem. The next day and night, when the interior was going full force and Stuart became short-staffed, it was Douglas who rounded up the additional help Stuart needed.
They worked together for 18 years, they owned a boat together for 14 years. They were brothers for 47 years and best friends for, I don't know, maybe 37 (I hear they hated each other as kids, but I don't believe it). One was always "yin" to the other's "yang", whether it be in the rush to build a house in 4 days, prepare the boat each May for a season of sailing, or thrill a client with the house of their dreams.
We miss you so much, Stuart.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
C. Stuart Whitla - In Today's Globe
Of Medway, formerly of Wellesley, passed on May 9th surrounded by his family in his home after a 7 month battle with cancer. Born in Syracuse, NY on October 19, 1954, he was the beloved husband of Karen Musser Whitla and loving father of Benjamin Musser Whitla of Cambridge and Alison Elizabeth Whitla of Medway. Stuart was the son of his dearly loved mother, Susan (Corning) Mann of Shrewsbury and the late C. Stuart "Skip" Whitla. Stuart is also survived by his sister, Elizabeth W. Graziano and her husband Tom of Norfolk, his brother and business partner of 18 years, Douglas P. Whitla and his wife Ann of Medfield, his mother-in-law Betty Musser of Hanover NH, his sister-in-law and her husband Kathy and Gordon Marshall of Pomfret, VT, 5 nephews and 1 niece. Stuart was a 1973 graduate of The Rivers School and a 1979 graduate of Northeastern University with a B.S. in Business Administration. Stuart's passing leaves a painful void for his extended family, friends and co-workers at Whitla Brothers, Inc. Custom Home Builders. Prior to starting his business, Stuart worked for the Better Boating Association in Needham. Stuart was member of Waquoit Bay Yacht Club in Waquoit, MA. Stuart will be remembered fondly for his passions. He built fine furniture and wooden boats, was an avid sailor, and enjoyed skiing, traveling, camping, hiking, and folk music. Most of all, he loved to share his interests with family and friends. A memorial service will be held on Saturday, June 2, 2007 at 10:00 AM at St. Mary's Episcopal Church, 258 Concord St. in Newton Lower Falls. Burial will be private. In lieu of flowers, expressions of sympathy may be made in his memory to The Kidney Cancer Research Fund, c/o Dror Michaelson, MD at Mass General Hospital, 55 Fruit St., Boston, MA 02114. Ginley Crowley Funeral Home Medway www.ginleyfuneralhomes.com
Published in the Boston Globe on 5/13/2007.
Published in the Boston Globe on 5/13/2007.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
The rest of the story...by Randie Martin
As you know, Stuart was a pretty good skier. In fact, the most amazing skier I've ever skied with. (although he told us that Doug was even better than he was - now THAT I'd like to see!). So at ease and confident, totally fearless and FAST - no matter what the conditions were like.
So, there Bob, Stuart and I were on the chairlift at the Park City Mountain Resort in Utah on a perfectly clear, sunny day the first morning of a week of skiing (Karen was back east earning a living). We were admiring the breathtaking scenery and the perfect conditions with Stuart pointing to some huge, incredibly steep, heartstopping peaks with fresh "powdah" and no tracks that you'd have to hike to with your skis (when it comes to skiing, I'm with Alison - I DON'T HIKE!). He'd say, "That's where I'd like to go." YIKES! Instead we decided on an easy??? double black mogul run at McConkie's Bowl which was heartstopping enough for me. First time down was great. Bob and I watched Stuart disappear over the edge of a steep cornice without even batting an eye, and we followed - though not quite as confidently. As always I really enjoyed watching Stuart zip down through the moguls making it look SO easy. Second run not so good - Bob took another trail and Stuart and I headed down the bowl again. I caught an edge and wound up sliding on my back head first through the moguls. When I finally landed in a heap and he skied over to me I said fairly calmly, "I'm pretty sure I broke my leg." He said, very emphatically, "You did NOT!" I said, "Yeah, I think so. But I am NOT taking the toboggan from here - I'll just walk to the edge of the mogul field." We established pretty quickly that that wasn't going to happen and he skied off to meet Bob to give him the bad news and get the ski patrol. He even had the good grace not to laugh too hard when I had to go back to the hotel sporting a cast and wearing the stylin' "one size fits huge" paper shorts they gave me at the clinic!!!
Some of our all time favorite ski times have been with the Whitlas, either at Sunday River or in Utah. I can see that special "Stuart style" when I watch Alison and Ben ski. Stuart, I'll think of you whenever we ski, but especially whenever we ride the chair to McConkie's!
As Alison put it so eloquently all those years ago as a toddler - "Kate and Alison, we friends!"
Whitlas and Martins - WE FRIENDS!
Love to you all -
Randie
So, there Bob, Stuart and I were on the chairlift at the Park City Mountain Resort in Utah on a perfectly clear, sunny day the first morning of a week of skiing (Karen was back east earning a living). We were admiring the breathtaking scenery and the perfect conditions with Stuart pointing to some huge, incredibly steep, heartstopping peaks with fresh "powdah" and no tracks that you'd have to hike to with your skis (when it comes to skiing, I'm with Alison - I DON'T HIKE!). He'd say, "That's where I'd like to go." YIKES! Instead we decided on an easy??? double black mogul run at McConkie's Bowl which was heartstopping enough for me. First time down was great. Bob and I watched Stuart disappear over the edge of a steep cornice without even batting an eye, and we followed - though not quite as confidently. As always I really enjoyed watching Stuart zip down through the moguls making it look SO easy. Second run not so good - Bob took another trail and Stuart and I headed down the bowl again. I caught an edge and wound up sliding on my back head first through the moguls. When I finally landed in a heap and he skied over to me I said fairly calmly, "I'm pretty sure I broke my leg." He said, very emphatically, "You did NOT!" I said, "Yeah, I think so. But I am NOT taking the toboggan from here - I'll just walk to the edge of the mogul field." We established pretty quickly that that wasn't going to happen and he skied off to meet Bob to give him the bad news and get the ski patrol. He even had the good grace not to laugh too hard when I had to go back to the hotel sporting a cast and wearing the stylin' "one size fits huge" paper shorts they gave me at the clinic!!!
Some of our all time favorite ski times have been with the Whitlas, either at Sunday River or in Utah. I can see that special "Stuart style" when I watch Alison and Ben ski. Stuart, I'll think of you whenever we ski, but especially whenever we ride the chair to McConkie's!
As Alison put it so eloquently all those years ago as a toddler - "Kate and Alison, we friends!"
Whitlas and Martins - WE FRIENDS!
Love to you all -
Randie
She's all yours - Bob Martin
Another Stuart ski story.
Stuart, Randie & I are at Park City Utah. First day of a ski vacation. Sunny, warm, great snow. But my back has been acting up, and on the plane out I didn't think I'd be able to ski at all. But we go out. Do some of the easy stuff to warm up. Feels pretty good, so we go up to the hard stuff - Mcconkey's bowl. Nice steep, fat moguls, just the thing for Stuart. We head down, and I survive. I ask a dumb question at the bottom "want to do it again?". Of course. On the way up, I say that I'm going down the easy way. Randie says she'll go with me. And Stuart says he'll do the steep bumps again, what a surprise.
We get to the top, and Randie just launches over the edge into the steeps. I turn to Stuart and say "I'm not going there - she is all yours, take good care of her". He launches.
I get to the bottom. No Randie, no Stuart. I wait, wait, wait.
Finally, an embarrassed Stuart arrives - "You won't believe this, but Randie broke her leg - I waited with her until the ski patrol arrived"
So we jumped back on the lift, back down the steeps/bumps, to catch up with Randie.
At least Stuart & I had a great ski week!!!!!!!
Stuart, Randie & I are at Park City Utah. First day of a ski vacation. Sunny, warm, great snow. But my back has been acting up, and on the plane out I didn't think I'd be able to ski at all. But we go out. Do some of the easy stuff to warm up. Feels pretty good, so we go up to the hard stuff - Mcconkey's bowl. Nice steep, fat moguls, just the thing for Stuart. We head down, and I survive. I ask a dumb question at the bottom "want to do it again?". Of course. On the way up, I say that I'm going down the easy way. Randie says she'll go with me. And Stuart says he'll do the steep bumps again, what a surprise.
We get to the top, and Randie just launches over the edge into the steeps. I turn to Stuart and say "I'm not going there - she is all yours, take good care of her". He launches.
I get to the bottom. No Randie, no Stuart. I wait, wait, wait.
Finally, an embarrassed Stuart arrives - "You won't believe this, but Randie broke her leg - I waited with her until the ski patrol arrived"
So we jumped back on the lift, back down the steeps/bumps, to catch up with Randie.
At least Stuart & I had a great ski week!!!!!!!
Skiing off the cliff - Bob Martin
So I've done a lot of skiing with Stuart - and what a skier!!! We were in Utah at Snowbird, and of course Stuart leads me to a cliff - double black, lots of rocks, mogels, and steep, steep, steep. Using my better judgement, I say "you go first, i'm going down the easier way". Off he goes, gets to the first bump, and bang, looses his ski. I'm thinking "no way i'm going down to rescue him". Then I'm thinking "what will I tell Karen". But he just hops right back on the ski, and without saying a word, goes flying down the hill. He could ski anything.... and often did...
And here he is...
And here he is...
"Cookies" by Ellen Brandfonbrener
for some reason over the past two weeks, whenever i
think of stuart, i picture him and ben hunkering down
on the couch with a box of E L fudge cookies, and
finishing them in one sitting... that man loved him
some cookies.
Demolition Matt - By Patty Kean
A blog? Is that a sailing term? I vaguely recall Stuart saying something about that “damned blog” … or was it Karen? It was definitely on the boat.
Now the story:
My son, Matt, had the pleasure of working with the Whitla Brothers for a year instead of attending school during the day when he was 14-ish ~ about 12 years ago.
Stuart would pick Matt up every morning: sun, rain, sleet, hail, snow blizzard ~ no matter. And, off they would drive off to one of the jobs. Stuart put Matt was in charge of demolition ~ a perfect fit. Every afternoon, Stuart would drop Matt off ~ exhausted and covered with some type of building material. As an interested mother, I would ask, “How was work, dear?” and here are some of Matt’s responses that have been burned into my memory:
“Mom, these guys listen to classical music on the job!” (Hear the horror…)
“Mom, these guys talk about books during lunch!” (Hear the incredulity…)
“Mom, I almost killed Mr. Whitla with an electric nail gun today, and he didn’t really yell too much at me.” (Hear the relief…)
“Mom, you can’t really tell that Mr. Whitla is the boss ~ he works harder than all of us put together,” (Hear the very important role modeling for a young man…)
And, finally, on one really trying day…
“Mom, I think I need to go back to school full time during the day. I just can’t ride into work with Mr. Whitla anymore. Do you know what type of music he listens to??? Mom, really, I just can’t listen to one more depressed woman singing country music…
Now the story:
My son, Matt, had the pleasure of working with the Whitla Brothers for a year instead of attending school during the day when he was 14-ish ~ about 12 years ago.
Stuart would pick Matt up every morning: sun, rain, sleet, hail, snow blizzard ~ no matter. And, off they would drive off to one of the jobs. Stuart put Matt was in charge of demolition ~ a perfect fit. Every afternoon, Stuart would drop Matt off ~ exhausted and covered with some type of building material. As an interested mother, I would ask, “How was work, dear?” and here are some of Matt’s responses that have been burned into my memory:
“Mom, these guys listen to classical music on the job!” (Hear the horror…)
“Mom, these guys talk about books during lunch!” (Hear the incredulity…)
“Mom, I almost killed Mr. Whitla with an electric nail gun today, and he didn’t really yell too much at me.” (Hear the relief…)
“Mom, you can’t really tell that Mr. Whitla is the boss ~ he works harder than all of us put together,” (Hear the very important role modeling for a young man…)
And, finally, on one really trying day…
“Mom, I think I need to go back to school full time during the day. I just can’t ride into work with Mr. Whitla anymore. Do you know what type of music he listens to??? Mom, really, I just can’t listen to one more depressed woman singing country music…
"I don't hike" - By GKMarshal
On the same idea of the hiking...I remember being told that around that same time, when the Whitlas all went to Utah to see ,...the Grand Canyon...they set off on a day "hike", to which Alison replied, "I don't hike".
Party Boat - Helen & Mac
Before we leave the funny stories, can anyone remember the details of the one about the “party boat” in Edgartown harbor a few summers ago? I can only remember the outline but Stuart’s recounting of the story was hilarious. I haven’t known Karen and Stuart long, but I count myself very lucky to have met them. Karen, thank you for bringing us all together through the emails.
Nicky Burton
This may be the story you are thinking of. I sent this email to Karen last night but will repeat it here.
Attached is a visual memory from Mac and me. Tortola 2004. The four of us sailed on a charter boat around the British Virgin Islands with Stuart as our ever competent and patient captain. Luckily we did not have a repeat performance of our first bare-boat charter trip in the same area in 1982 when we ran aground on a sand bar within the first two hours at sea! Okay, I am revealing a secret that I think was never to be told... “But”, said Captain Stuart, “ I thought that island was much farther away than it looks on the chart!”
Another funny boating story took place a couple of years ago when we were anchored in the harbor at Edgartown overnight. Around two in the morning we were woken by loud female voices, music, and obvious drunken shenanigans on the boat moored next to ours. Stuart, in his boxers, rises from his bunk,jumps into the dingy, roars over to the boat and yells at the late night revelers to “Be quiet! People are trying to sleep here!”. The men on the deck of the boat yelled down to him in clearly non-American accents,” Hey! You want girls? We got girls here! Come on up!” We laughed so hard!
So many great stories... This is a great way to start them going.
Helen and Mac Crary
Stuart & Ben - John Kimball
OK, this is awesome -- thank you everyone for your contributions -- let's keep it going -- doesn't need to be a funny story just something/anything about Stuart!!
I am going to go again here because this is a great story that is also very poignant at this time:
It must have been at least 12 years ago -- I think Benjamin was about 12 or 13. Stuart had apparently always been way into hiking and was very excited to introduce Ben to the sport. So Stuart picked a weekend to head to the White Mountains in NH and invited me to join he and Ben. We would hike in near the "Old Man in the Mountain" rock formation (we would stand on the Old Man's head at the end of the hike!!) So Stuart has prepared everything - all the camping gear and gadgets ( was it me or did Stuart love gadgets!!!), food etc... and now we load these huge back packs onto ourselves (poor Ben!!!) and start into the woods. The plan was to hike to a pond, spend the night and then hike out the next day. As soon as we started out Ben trailed about 50 yards behind us -- he was clearly not as fired up about this trek as his father. And that is how the hike would go - Ben about 50 yards back walking slowly kicking up the rocks and dirt probably asking himself how the hell he ever got talked into this charade!!! Every 10 minutes for 4-5 hours Ben is calling out "how much longer?" or "I need some more food" or "this pack is too heavy"!!!!! Stuart is not only bummed that Ben is not into this "Father/Son" outing but now he is pissed that Ben will not shut up!! "BENJAMIN - BE QUIET" "BENJAMIN - YOU JUST ATE" "BENJAMIN - NOT MUCH LONGER" -- we finally made it to the pond and set up camp for the night - I remember there were a TON of mosquitos - to the point where we could barely leave the tent - but anyways we all walked down to the pond and this I will never forget -- father and son, skinny and pale white, buck naked in the middle of no where jumping off this wooden dock together and into the pond!!
Stuart was a great father and delighted always in keeping me up to date with all the wonderful things that Benjamin and Alison were up to in their lives. I know that one of his great prides was in seeing the exceptional people that Ben and Alison have become.
John
I am going to go again here because this is a great story that is also very poignant at this time:
It must have been at least 12 years ago -- I think Benjamin was about 12 or 13. Stuart had apparently always been way into hiking and was very excited to introduce Ben to the sport. So Stuart picked a weekend to head to the White Mountains in NH and invited me to join he and Ben. We would hike in near the "Old Man in the Mountain" rock formation (we would stand on the Old Man's head at the end of the hike!!) So Stuart has prepared everything - all the camping gear and gadgets ( was it me or did Stuart love gadgets!!!), food etc... and now we load these huge back packs onto ourselves (poor Ben!!!) and start into the woods. The plan was to hike to a pond, spend the night and then hike out the next day. As soon as we started out Ben trailed about 50 yards behind us -- he was clearly not as fired up about this trek as his father. And that is how the hike would go - Ben about 50 yards back walking slowly kicking up the rocks and dirt probably asking himself how the hell he ever got talked into this charade!!! Every 10 minutes for 4-5 hours Ben is calling out "how much longer?" or "I need some more food" or "this pack is too heavy"!!!!! Stuart is not only bummed that Ben is not into this "Father/Son" outing but now he is pissed that Ben will not shut up!! "BENJAMIN - BE QUIET" "BENJAMIN - YOU JUST ATE" "BENJAMIN - NOT MUCH LONGER" -- we finally made it to the pond and set up camp for the night - I remember there were a TON of mosquitos - to the point where we could barely leave the tent - but anyways we all walked down to the pond and this I will never forget -- father and son, skinny and pale white, buck naked in the middle of no where jumping off this wooden dock together and into the pond!!
Stuart was a great father and delighted always in keeping me up to date with all the wonderful things that Benjamin and Alison were up to in their lives. I know that one of his great prides was in seeing the exceptional people that Ben and Alison have become.
John
Road Rage - By Betsy Graziano
What I will share with you is that road rage runs in this calm family. Our Dad would get incredibly frustrated in traffic tie ups to the Cape in the summer. When the 3 of us were young, he would attempt control by referring to everyone else on the highway as "dumb bunnies"..................
On a personal note, I want you to know how much I enjoyed being with you that day you came to be with Stuart. It was a ploy, we really just all wanted to be with you. Thank you for sharing all your memories and feelings for Stuart. This family cares for you a great deal.
xxBetsy
On a personal note, I want you to know how much I enjoyed being with you that day you came to be with Stuart. It was a ploy, we really just all wanted to be with you. Thank you for sharing all your memories and feelings for Stuart. This family cares for you a great deal.
xxBetsy
Driving Feet on the ceiling - By Laurie Meyer
There is so much to say about Stuart--
But what flashed in my mind is a vision of Stuart, in our high school years, driving his blue-green with white convertible top (impala?): he could put one, if not both (?!) feet on the ceiling of the car as he sat in the driver's seat and steered!! I DON'T think I'm hallucinating...but maybe someone else can confirm this.
Laurel "Laurie" Meyer
But what flashed in my mind is a vision of Stuart, in our high school years, driving his blue-green with white convertible top (impala?): he could put one, if not both (?!) feet on the ceiling of the car as he sat in the driver's seat and steered!! I DON'T think I'm hallucinating...but maybe someone else can confirm this.
Laurel "Laurie" Meyer
Karen sets the record straight....
Just to set the record straight, I believe it was my brother-in-law, Douglas, who had the broken leg....(come on , Doug, help me and my porr memory out here!)and the two of them hitch-hiked their way into the city together, but other wise the story rings true. Thank you, Steven! Also, did I really run outside in my flannel Lanz nightgown?????
Blizzard of '78 - By Steve Aveson
John,
Thank you for inspiring this way of continuing the journey.
Continued: Life with Stuart
Karen Musser was in love with this guy named Stuart Whitla when we met at Wheelock College and through a mutual friend agreed to share an apartment in Brookline. In addition to the fact that she was way smart, and real cute, and despite the fact that she immediately managed to wangle the best bedroom in the apartment, Karen was charming and fun, and I expected Stuart to be remarkable.
He exceeded expectations. For a quiet gentleman he had a smile that illuminated the room like no one else and his strength and determination are both legend and inspiring. And that combination is at the heart of my story.
We shared our apartment during the fall of 1977 through the Winter and Spring of 1978. When the Blizzard of '78 hit we four roommates retreated to the apartment early in the storm. It quickly became clear that we were in for a big one and Karen, sensing that school might close down, wondered whether she should leave Brookline to hook up with Stuart (this was before Hooking up was what it is today but may or may not have had the same meaning back then!).
The cautious and conservative side of Karen prevailed upon her to stay put since there was a chance school might go forward. However in no time it became clear that not only would school not reopen, but neither would the roads. We were trapped and not going anywhere. Furthermore, no one was coming our way either, specifically Stuart. Because not only had the Governor declared a state of emergency, closing the roads, but Stuart had an injured leg and was trapped in cast!
Karen was not just disappointed,sad or depressed, she was despondent. In the age before cell phones she glued herself to our landline talking with Stuart (perhaps crying?) lamenting her poor judgement for not going to be with him at the beginning of the storm.
Stuart promised that he'd find a way to get to her. It's just the kind of corny thing that guys have been saying to calm down sweethearts for generations and it worked. Karen relinquished the telephone, we baked cookies, played games, got bored doing whatever classwork we could do, got bored of each other and looked out the window in awe at the accumulation of impassable white stuff.
Not only were the roads officially closed but it was hard to imagine how any vehicle could get by no matter what. This was before HUMVEE Nation.
At midnight the snow had stopped and it was actually quite beautiful outdoors...was there a full moon?.......perhaps.....it was quiet.....when the phone rang.....Karen lurched for the reciever......a chance to speak with her sweetheart perhaps......but not just that as it turns out....we watched as she dragged the telephone to the bay window and looking down the street she saw ( or imagined she could see ) Stuart calling her from a Public Phone booth two blocks away......
Somehow he'd used that smile to win the hearts of a state trooper or two along the way from Wellesley to Brookline and wangled a ride here and there to take his broken legged self to see his sweetheart.
That's determination folks...and a lot of love I suppose....and the whole unforgettable experience is accented forever by the image of Karen soon-to-be-Whitla putting on her slippers and racing down the street in her Pajamas (truly ahead of her time with that fashion choice!) yelling at the top of her lungs, "STUUUUARRRTT".
I can't tell you how many times I've told that story to colleagues and friends, almost always perfect strangers to Stuart and Karen, and it's always brought the same result. A reflection of that warm and dynamic smile.
Stuart and I were born on the same day.
I'll always treasure the memory of my Birthday Buddy.
Steve Aveson
Thank you for inspiring this way of continuing the journey.
Continued: Life with Stuart
Karen Musser was in love with this guy named Stuart Whitla when we met at Wheelock College and through a mutual friend agreed to share an apartment in Brookline. In addition to the fact that she was way smart, and real cute, and despite the fact that she immediately managed to wangle the best bedroom in the apartment, Karen was charming and fun, and I expected Stuart to be remarkable.
He exceeded expectations. For a quiet gentleman he had a smile that illuminated the room like no one else and his strength and determination are both legend and inspiring. And that combination is at the heart of my story.
We shared our apartment during the fall of 1977 through the Winter and Spring of 1978. When the Blizzard of '78 hit we four roommates retreated to the apartment early in the storm. It quickly became clear that we were in for a big one and Karen, sensing that school might close down, wondered whether she should leave Brookline to hook up with Stuart (this was before Hooking up was what it is today but may or may not have had the same meaning back then!).
The cautious and conservative side of Karen prevailed upon her to stay put since there was a chance school might go forward. However in no time it became clear that not only would school not reopen, but neither would the roads. We were trapped and not going anywhere. Furthermore, no one was coming our way either, specifically Stuart. Because not only had the Governor declared a state of emergency, closing the roads, but Stuart had an injured leg and was trapped in cast!
Karen was not just disappointed,sad or depressed, she was despondent. In the age before cell phones she glued herself to our landline talking with Stuart (perhaps crying?) lamenting her poor judgement for not going to be with him at the beginning of the storm.
Stuart promised that he'd find a way to get to her. It's just the kind of corny thing that guys have been saying to calm down sweethearts for generations and it worked. Karen relinquished the telephone, we baked cookies, played games, got bored doing whatever classwork we could do, got bored of each other and looked out the window in awe at the accumulation of impassable white stuff.
Not only were the roads officially closed but it was hard to imagine how any vehicle could get by no matter what. This was before HUMVEE Nation.
At midnight the snow had stopped and it was actually quite beautiful outdoors...was there a full moon?.......perhaps.....it was quiet.....when the phone rang.....Karen lurched for the reciever......a chance to speak with her sweetheart perhaps......but not just that as it turns out....we watched as she dragged the telephone to the bay window and looking down the street she saw ( or imagined she could see ) Stuart calling her from a Public Phone booth two blocks away......
Somehow he'd used that smile to win the hearts of a state trooper or two along the way from Wellesley to Brookline and wangled a ride here and there to take his broken legged self to see his sweetheart.
That's determination folks...and a lot of love I suppose....and the whole unforgettable experience is accented forever by the image of Karen soon-to-be-Whitla putting on her slippers and racing down the street in her Pajamas (truly ahead of her time with that fashion choice!) yelling at the top of her lungs, "STUUUUARRRTT".
I can't tell you how many times I've told that story to colleagues and friends, almost always perfect strangers to Stuart and Karen, and it's always brought the same result. A reflection of that warm and dynamic smile.
Stuart and I were born on the same day.
I'll always treasure the memory of my Birthday Buddy.
Steve Aveson
Life with Stuart - By John Kimball
I don't know about the rest of you but I cannot get enough of Stuart these days. If any and all are interested could you share some experiences with Stuart or personal remembrances with the rest of us so that all of us who are hurting now can come together some.
I'll begin by telling you PROUDLY that I was the first Whitla Brothers employee! Stuart had broken his back during a project at Randy and Bob Martin's house and I got a call from Doug (old friend of our family) to ask if I could come on board. I worked for Stuart and Doug for about 10 years leaving in 1997 and have remained close friends with both guys and their families ever since.
As you all know, Stuart was a gentle soul and "doing the right thing" always came naturally to him. He was a quiet, well respected leader and gentleman who rarely raised his voice and always gave the rest of us the calming reassurance that he was in control and in charge.
But.......then there was the road rage!!!!! I know that there are several "documented" instances of this but I recall one even though the details are a little foggy. I believe it went like this: we were working on a job in Chestnut Hill and now and again for lunch we would go down to a place on the corner of Rt. 9 and Longwood Tennis. There were always very few parking places and on this day an older couple had taken up 2 spots. Stuart was out of his mind over the stupidity of this -- ranting and raving until red in the face -- so he slowly backed his van (maybe Montero at that point) up against the fender of the car and pushed it back until it tapped the fender of the car to its rear. Now, the couple's car was sandwiched and we all knew they could not move the car. Stuart giggled to the point of tears throughout the lunch watching the couple a few tables away and waiting for them to finish their lunch and return to witness their new dilemma.
I will always remember that contorted face of Stuart's, tears rolling from his eyes when he really found something funny.
Awesome guy -- awesome life.
John Kimball
I'll begin by telling you PROUDLY that I was the first Whitla Brothers employee! Stuart had broken his back during a project at Randy and Bob Martin's house and I got a call from Doug (old friend of our family) to ask if I could come on board. I worked for Stuart and Doug for about 10 years leaving in 1997 and have remained close friends with both guys and their families ever since.
As you all know, Stuart was a gentle soul and "doing the right thing" always came naturally to him. He was a quiet, well respected leader and gentleman who rarely raised his voice and always gave the rest of us the calming reassurance that he was in control and in charge.
But.......then there was the road rage!!!!! I know that there are several "documented" instances of this but I recall one even though the details are a little foggy. I believe it went like this: we were working on a job in Chestnut Hill and now and again for lunch we would go down to a place on the corner of Rt. 9 and Longwood Tennis. There were always very few parking places and on this day an older couple had taken up 2 spots. Stuart was out of his mind over the stupidity of this -- ranting and raving until red in the face -- so he slowly backed his van (maybe Montero at that point) up against the fender of the car and pushed it back until it tapped the fender of the car to its rear. Now, the couple's car was sandwiched and we all knew they could not move the car. Stuart giggled to the point of tears throughout the lunch watching the couple a few tables away and waiting for them to finish their lunch and return to witness their new dilemma.
I will always remember that contorted face of Stuart's, tears rolling from his eyes when he really found something funny.
Awesome guy -- awesome life.
John Kimball
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