My Dad and I share a lot of characteristics.
One thing is that we could both appreciate that when we were together - we didn't feel the need to talk all the time. Because for us, comfort in silence and the unspoken was just as important.
So I didn't prepare a speech for today-because he knows it all.
Instead, I'm going to share a poem, "When I Sail Away."
Sunday, June 17, 2007
When I Sail Away
When I Sail Away Sometime at eve when the tide is low, I shall slip my mooring and sail away, With no response to the friendly hail Of kindred craft in busy bay. In the silent hush of the twilight pale When the night stoops down to embrace the day And the voices call in the water’s flow… Sometime at eve when the tide is low I shall slip my mooring and sail away. Through the purpling shadows that darkly trail O’er the ebbing tide of the Unknown Sea, I shall fare me away, with a dip of the sail And ripple of waters to tell the tale Of a lonely voyager, sailing away To the Mystic Isles where at anchor lay The crafts of those who have sailed before O’er the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore. A few who have watched me sail away, Will miss my craft from the busy bay; Some friendly barks that were anchored near, Some loving souls that my heart held dear, In silent sorrow will drop a tear- But I shall have peacefully furled my sail In moorings sheltered from storm or gale, And greeted the friends who have sailed before, O’er the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore. By Elizabeth Clark Hardy |
Karen's Words
First, I’d like to thank you all for coming here today. Stuart would have never believed how many people are here, and quite frankly, I think he would have been a bit embarrassed. Stuart has always been an independent, humble, and quiet man. He never liked a fuss to be made over him. Yet during the past seven months he let his children, myself, his brother, sister and mother take care of him in ways that none of us would have ever imagined possible. While at times frustrated with all the hovering we did, he let us help him and take care of him during his illness, and for us that was truly a gift. I believe it was a gift for him as well, even though I know at times it must have been difficult for him.
I’m not going to talk today about what a wonderful husband, confidant, friend, and father of my children Stuart was to me. I think you all know how I feel about Stuart. Instead, I would like to talk to you about what I’ve learned about Stuart, the meaning of his life, and about life in general from all of you during the past 7 months. Whether through emails, phone calls, cards, conversations in the hospital, afternoon visits at our home in Medway, or, more recently, on the blog, you all have not only supported me, but you have talked to me about Stuart, the way he lived his life, the person he was, and how he has influenced your lives.
One of the recurring themes that I have heard is in reference to Stuart’s calmness and inner strength. For years, many of my friends in high school and college referred to him as “quiet and solid”. I have always called him my “Rock of Gibraltar”. And what I’ve heard from many of you is that this inner strength and calmness also affected you and your lives. I have to say I was amazed when I realized this. For I thought that I, and hopefully our children, were the only ones who reaped the benefits of Stuart’s solid foundation. I truly believe that I would not be the person that I am today, if it were not for his unfailing strength and quiet, subtle support. Whether I was walking through tall grass (“Stuart, eek, the snakes!”), sailing in gale force winds (ok, it’s true I needed his calmness to sail on any given day!), skiing down a way too steep slope (You can do it, Karen, just follow me, and do what I do!) , taking graduate classes while working full time and raising a family (“ok Karen I’ll clean the house while you study”)or teaching a college class for the first time in Bermuda ( ”sure you can do it, you’re a born teacher”!) I have always known that without Stuart I would not be the person that I am today, nor would I have experienced life as fully.
Stuart was a man of many passions. He thoroughly enjoyed life. He loved his family, building, sailing, almost anything to do with the ocean, wooden boats, old boats, old cars, old houses, old tools (actually, he loved almost anything old, except growing old!), architecture, art, music (especially folk music), and more recently scuba diving. I often envied his ability to feel so passionately about so much of life. Many of you, as you visited us, mentioned one or more of these passions, in your stories and reminiscing. At the same time, you often told me how much you admired Stuart’s decision to follow his dream, and to make one of his passions his career. In 1979, when offered a job for a large company where he had been doing his college work-study experience, Stuart told me that he did not want to work in such a pressure cooker environment. So when he embarked upon looking for a job, he decided to search in the boating industry, because it was something that he loved. He found a job and became general manger of the Better Boating Association, then in Needham. Several years later, when he decided he needed a change, he again followed his heart, and decided to go into business with his brother, Douglas, pursuing another one of his passions, building. Many of you have told me how much you admired that decision that he made. While not easy at first, over time the business expanded and the reputation of the Whitla Brothers grew. Stuart always felt, and I have heard him say many times to our children and their friends, “if you follow your heart, and are honest and true to yourself and others, you will be happy, and the rest will come.”
Stuart lived his short life of 52 years without regrets. He followed his heart, both in his family life and in his career, and it comforts me to know that many of you recognize that in him. It, also, comforts me to know that while he was here on earth with us; his time was spent pursuing his passions. That is one of the many things I love about him. I am grateful to have been his girlfriend, wife, best friend, and mother of his children for these past 35 years, and I know I speak for us all when I say “We miss you, Stuart.”
I’m not going to talk today about what a wonderful husband, confidant, friend, and father of my children Stuart was to me. I think you all know how I feel about Stuart. Instead, I would like to talk to you about what I’ve learned about Stuart, the meaning of his life, and about life in general from all of you during the past 7 months. Whether through emails, phone calls, cards, conversations in the hospital, afternoon visits at our home in Medway, or, more recently, on the blog, you all have not only supported me, but you have talked to me about Stuart, the way he lived his life, the person he was, and how he has influenced your lives.
One of the recurring themes that I have heard is in reference to Stuart’s calmness and inner strength. For years, many of my friends in high school and college referred to him as “quiet and solid”. I have always called him my “Rock of Gibraltar”. And what I’ve heard from many of you is that this inner strength and calmness also affected you and your lives. I have to say I was amazed when I realized this. For I thought that I, and hopefully our children, were the only ones who reaped the benefits of Stuart’s solid foundation. I truly believe that I would not be the person that I am today, if it were not for his unfailing strength and quiet, subtle support. Whether I was walking through tall grass (“Stuart, eek, the snakes!”), sailing in gale force winds (ok, it’s true I needed his calmness to sail on any given day!), skiing down a way too steep slope (You can do it, Karen, just follow me, and do what I do!) , taking graduate classes while working full time and raising a family (“ok Karen I’ll clean the house while you study”)or teaching a college class for the first time in Bermuda ( ”sure you can do it, you’re a born teacher”!) I have always known that without Stuart I would not be the person that I am today, nor would I have experienced life as fully.
Stuart was a man of many passions. He thoroughly enjoyed life. He loved his family, building, sailing, almost anything to do with the ocean, wooden boats, old boats, old cars, old houses, old tools (actually, he loved almost anything old, except growing old!), architecture, art, music (especially folk music), and more recently scuba diving. I often envied his ability to feel so passionately about so much of life. Many of you, as you visited us, mentioned one or more of these passions, in your stories and reminiscing. At the same time, you often told me how much you admired Stuart’s decision to follow his dream, and to make one of his passions his career. In 1979, when offered a job for a large company where he had been doing his college work-study experience, Stuart told me that he did not want to work in such a pressure cooker environment. So when he embarked upon looking for a job, he decided to search in the boating industry, because it was something that he loved. He found a job and became general manger of the Better Boating Association, then in Needham. Several years later, when he decided he needed a change, he again followed his heart, and decided to go into business with his brother, Douglas, pursuing another one of his passions, building. Many of you have told me how much you admired that decision that he made. While not easy at first, over time the business expanded and the reputation of the Whitla Brothers grew. Stuart always felt, and I have heard him say many times to our children and their friends, “if you follow your heart, and are honest and true to yourself and others, you will be happy, and the rest will come.”
Stuart lived his short life of 52 years without regrets. He followed his heart, both in his family life and in his career, and it comforts me to know that many of you recognize that in him. It, also, comforts me to know that while he was here on earth with us; his time was spent pursuing his passions. That is one of the many things I love about him. I am grateful to have been his girlfriend, wife, best friend, and mother of his children for these past 35 years, and I know I speak for us all when I say “We miss you, Stuart.”
Betsy's Words
Thank you all for coming to help us honor Stuart.
Even as a child, Stuart was a “go to” kind of guy. He was the kid who would take things apart just for the joy of putting them back together and truly - he could fix anything. Our Mom tells a great story of when a neighbor called our house saying that they were having a problem with their garage door. Apparently it was stuck halfway. They wanted Stuart to come take a look at it. My mother asked….., didn’t they mean they wanted Skip (our Dad) to come look at it? The neighbor said noooo……, they wanted Stuart. Stuart was only 10 years old.
What some of you may not know, is that Tom and I bought our first house in Medfield with Stuart and Karen. The four of us felt strongly that we wanted to take an old house and bring it back to life. Stuart always felt that houses had souls, so he began to search for a two family home - in a great town and in TOTAL disrepair. He found a great old farmhouse with broken windows, a bad roof and blankets separating the first and second floors. He convinced us with unfailing optimism that we could rebuild this house. That room by room we would do this….. ourselves .So we did. We lived in that house for four years, until our families started to outgrow it. I believe that is when Stuart decided he had found his calling while the other three of us knew our talents lay somewhere else.
We have found throughout Stuart’s illness, many reasons to be grateful….
We have always known in our family that every day is a gift. We were given the opportunity to truly live that for 7 months with Stuart.
We are grateful for the incomparable love pouring from extended family and friends.
When Stuart first entered the hospital, there were pumpkin breads, soups and meals left on Karen and Stuart’s porch meant to sustain our family throughout long hospital stays.
There were many flowers sent to remind all of us that we are loved and supported, cards and letters, endless phone calls all with words of love, understanding, encouragement and support.
We are grateful for Stuart’s doctors and nurses who worked with us for long hours both in the hospital and on the phone helping our family understand, cope and make decisions that were ALWAYS…. the best for Stuart.
We are grateful that Stuart was given the time to go home from the hospital on Alison’s birthday in time for Christmas. Grateful for Easter by the ocean in Plymouth with our whole family and Stuart feeling strong. We were all thrilled when Stuart and Karen, with the help of several wonderful friends, were given the opportunity to get to Antigua for a few days and were grateful to get him back home again safely.
In Stuart’s final weeks, we were again given unimaginable support with loving friends who came to visit with Stuart and our family so that he would NEVER be alone.
One quiet afternoon in January Stuart and I talked about what it meant to live every day to the fullest. He said if you’d asked him that before his illness, he would have said….. to travel endlessly all over the world. Since his illness….. he felt very differently. On any given weekend he would normally be busy doing any one of the hobbies he enjoyed. If someone had just dropped in to visit – he would have been happy to see them, but felt his weekend time was interrupted…so much to do you know…. now…. in the midst of a terminal illness, he was grateful for every dear friend and family member who took time out from their busy day to come and spend time visiting with him. He said THAT was living every moment to the fullest………….
Even as a child, Stuart was a “go to” kind of guy. He was the kid who would take things apart just for the joy of putting them back together and truly - he could fix anything. Our Mom tells a great story of when a neighbor called our house saying that they were having a problem with their garage door. Apparently it was stuck halfway. They wanted Stuart to come take a look at it. My mother asked….., didn’t they mean they wanted Skip (our Dad) to come look at it? The neighbor said noooo……, they wanted Stuart. Stuart was only 10 years old.
What some of you may not know, is that Tom and I bought our first house in Medfield with Stuart and Karen. The four of us felt strongly that we wanted to take an old house and bring it back to life. Stuart always felt that houses had souls, so he began to search for a two family home - in a great town and in TOTAL disrepair. He found a great old farmhouse with broken windows, a bad roof and blankets separating the first and second floors. He convinced us with unfailing optimism that we could rebuild this house. That room by room we would do this….. ourselves .So we did. We lived in that house for four years, until our families started to outgrow it. I believe that is when Stuart decided he had found his calling while the other three of us knew our talents lay somewhere else.
We have found throughout Stuart’s illness, many reasons to be grateful….
We have always known in our family that every day is a gift. We were given the opportunity to truly live that for 7 months with Stuart.
We are grateful for the incomparable love pouring from extended family and friends.
When Stuart first entered the hospital, there were pumpkin breads, soups and meals left on Karen and Stuart’s porch meant to sustain our family throughout long hospital stays.
There were many flowers sent to remind all of us that we are loved and supported, cards and letters, endless phone calls all with words of love, understanding, encouragement and support.
We are grateful for Stuart’s doctors and nurses who worked with us for long hours both in the hospital and on the phone helping our family understand, cope and make decisions that were ALWAYS…. the best for Stuart.
We are grateful that Stuart was given the time to go home from the hospital on Alison’s birthday in time for Christmas. Grateful for Easter by the ocean in Plymouth with our whole family and Stuart feeling strong. We were all thrilled when Stuart and Karen, with the help of several wonderful friends, were given the opportunity to get to Antigua for a few days and were grateful to get him back home again safely.
In Stuart’s final weeks, we were again given unimaginable support with loving friends who came to visit with Stuart and our family so that he would NEVER be alone.
One quiet afternoon in January Stuart and I talked about what it meant to live every day to the fullest. He said if you’d asked him that before his illness, he would have said….. to travel endlessly all over the world. Since his illness….. he felt very differently. On any given weekend he would normally be busy doing any one of the hobbies he enjoyed. If someone had just dropped in to visit – he would have been happy to see them, but felt his weekend time was interrupted…so much to do you know…. now…. in the midst of a terminal illness, he was grateful for every dear friend and family member who took time out from their busy day to come and spend time visiting with him. He said THAT was living every moment to the fullest………….
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Ben's Short Words
people had been asking for them, i think, so here you go:
i just have a short bit to say about my dad.
ever since i was little, and then all the way up until now, someone is always asking who who your hero is. for my entire life, i never even thought twice about who my hero was. kids would always answer "superman" or "batman" or some other ridiculous fake person.. but i always knew... without a second of hesitation, that my hero was my dad.
i've never answered this question any other way, and it's never even crossed my mind that there COULD be another answer.
to me, he could always solve any problem. he always had the level headed solution. he always had the intelligent choice. he always had the well considered plan. i have always been convinced that no matter what went wrong, no matter how badly i messed things up, he was there.. a superhero ready to swoop in and take care of things. i was never scared to venture out into anything, because i knew my dad, even when far away, could save me from anything. he always knew how to fix it, or how to deal with it.. no matter what it was.
my dad is my hero.
i just have a short bit to say about my dad.
ever since i was little, and then all the way up until now, someone is always asking who who your hero is. for my entire life, i never even thought twice about who my hero was. kids would always answer "superman" or "batman" or some other ridiculous fake person.. but i always knew... without a second of hesitation, that my hero was my dad.
i've never answered this question any other way, and it's never even crossed my mind that there COULD be another answer.
to me, he could always solve any problem. he always had the level headed solution. he always had the intelligent choice. he always had the well considered plan. i have always been convinced that no matter what went wrong, no matter how badly i messed things up, he was there.. a superhero ready to swoop in and take care of things. i was never scared to venture out into anything, because i knew my dad, even when far away, could save me from anything. he always knew how to fix it, or how to deal with it.. no matter what it was.
my dad is my hero.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Peter Chase's Welcome
We are so grateful to Peter Chase for opening up his church and his heart to us after Stuart's death. His thoughtful, elegant prose brought just the right kind of spirituality to the service, and his words at the beginning and the end of the service provided just the right, subtle structure we sought. Here are the words of his welcome that day.
I am Peter Chase and serve as the rector of Saint Mary’s where I first met Stuart and Doug as they worked within this sanctuary in 1996.
Today you can see the results of their craftsmanship with the restoration of the lower facade as you entered the church, and now as you look at the altar and East wall, the gentle roundness of the arches, the strength and beauty of the columns. These are both reminders of Stuart’s appreciation for simplicity and grace.
Stuart once told me he felt at peace within this sacred space and I pray that we too may discover a sense of serenity as we remember him today. Stuart appreciated the beauty of life and he added to it with great skill and affection. This is a service to celebrate all that Stuart cared for, and all that he has meant to us. And we do this, not to be overwhelmed by our loss, but to meet the days ahead with hope and gratitude as we recall all that he loved and cherished.
Stuart possessed a genuine concern for the welfare of others and may we also carry that spirit with us. May we care for those things Stuart cared for and love those things he loved so that in our own lives, his life may live on.
There is a collect in The Book of Common Prayer which says that God knows our needs even before we have the need to ask. It says we do not need to invoke God's presence for God is already with us. And I believe this is true for us today as we remember Stuart.And may our presence here be of support to Karen, Ben and Alison, Doug, Betsy and their mother and all of the Whitla family. May all of us be knit together in kindness and respect for the fragility of life and the power of the Spirit.
I am Peter Chase and serve as the rector of Saint Mary’s where I first met Stuart and Doug as they worked within this sanctuary in 1996.
Today you can see the results of their craftsmanship with the restoration of the lower facade as you entered the church, and now as you look at the altar and East wall, the gentle roundness of the arches, the strength and beauty of the columns. These are both reminders of Stuart’s appreciation for simplicity and grace.
Stuart once told me he felt at peace within this sacred space and I pray that we too may discover a sense of serenity as we remember him today. Stuart appreciated the beauty of life and he added to it with great skill and affection. This is a service to celebrate all that Stuart cared for, and all that he has meant to us. And we do this, not to be overwhelmed by our loss, but to meet the days ahead with hope and gratitude as we recall all that he loved and cherished.
Stuart possessed a genuine concern for the welfare of others and may we also carry that spirit with us. May we care for those things Stuart cared for and love those things he loved so that in our own lives, his life may live on.
There is a collect in The Book of Common Prayer which says that God knows our needs even before we have the need to ask. It says we do not need to invoke God's presence for God is already with us. And I believe this is true for us today as we remember Stuart.And may our presence here be of support to Karen, Ben and Alison, Doug, Betsy and their mother and all of the Whitla family. May all of us be knit together in kindness and respect for the fragility of life and the power of the Spirit.
Douglas' Remembrance
For those of you who weren't able to attend Stuart's service, or weren't able to hear, or just would like to read my memories of Stuart, here you go. We were overwhelmed by the crowd who were able to come. Thanks for all your support. What a tribute to Stuart. I think about him everyday.
Thank you all for being a part of this very special day. And I’ll get it out right up front – I’m the crier in the family. My plan is to get through this, and I’d appreciate it if you did the same. No sniffles, no kleenex. No wailing, no moaning, no gasping for air.
As most of you know, Stuart and I spent a fair bit of time together. There was all week at work, most weekends talking about work, spring time getting the boat ready, the fall winterizing the boat, and of course all the major holidays that required us to stop working and sailing altogether, and just be together. That’s what happens when you own a business together, own a boat together, and happen to be brothers. You become best friends.
Growing up, our garage was the place to be. There you could find mini-bikes, mopeds, and go-carts – in various stages of repair – and Stuart, always at the center, the one keeping them all running. Stuart tinkered and I was the little brother holding the flashlight.
Stuart’s modesty was legendary. I asked him to be my best man, he said, because I had “too many friends” and couldn’t choose just one. I named my son Stuart, he said, because our dad was named Stuart and because I had “so many great friends named Stuart”. When I told him it was to honor him, he thought I was joking. When I finally convinced him, he was downright giddy. The two Stuarts shared a wonderful bond – a fun-loving uncle with the same name was an absolute delight in the eyes of my son Stuart.
Stuart and I were passionate about many of the same things – family, building, sailing, and boats of every single type – big or little, wooden or fiberglass, old or new, power or sail, any boat but an ugly boat. Spring weekends for 14 years were about cleaning and scraping, varnishing and painting together at the Mattapoisett Boatyard. That was when I felt closest to Stuart – the companionship, the banter, just the right tool for every job – we were the envy of every other boat owner in the yard. Every Memorial Day weekend, he and I would sail the boat from Mattapoisett to Waquoit, sometimes with Ben or Matthew, but always with each other. Through Woods Hole, Quick’s Hole, tucking into Hadley’s Harbor, sometimes overnight at Cutty Hunk or over to Menemsha... it marked the beginning of summer, another season to do what we loved the most, a joyful, exhilarating experience… and that weekend was nearly always 45 degrees, foggy, rainy, and windy.
We also made each other laugh – sometimes at the most inopportune times. Shortly after the start of our partnership, we were hired to build a house. Not a basement, not a garage, not even an addition, but a completely new, custom home. Those clients must have been out of their minds. We met them at the site to mark tree removal. We were trying really hard to sound and act like we had years of experience. It was a warm evening and the bugs were coming out. As Stuart spray-painted markings on the trees, I ran for a can of bug spray in my truck. I sprayed myself, the clients helped themselves to the spray, and then I gave it to Stuart to use. I considered making some crack about not mixing up the two cans he held, but, again, I was trying hard to exude calm confidence. Sure enough, right in front of the clients who’d hired us to build their dream house, Stuart proceeded to spray paint the entire length of his leg. Well, that was it for us. The clients attempted to carry on with the meeting, as if nothing really funny had happened, but it was a lost cause. We’d momentarily regain our composure, only to collapse in hysterical laughter, tears streaming down our faces. Those were the early, shaky days of Whitla Brothers Builders. And for 18 years, no two partners worked or laughed as hard in the process of building a business as Stuart and I did. We always strived to do it well and to have fun.
A frustrating problem became an interesting challenge when we tackled things together, and we gave each other the confidence we often lacked in ourselves. When one of us couldn’t see eye to eye with a client, together we could; when one of us couldn’t get the engine going, together we could; when an architect’s drawings simply didn’t translate into the 3-dimensional world, together we could make it work.
Stuart was good natured and easy going – though occasionally his calm demeanor would crack. Rarely did anyone else see that – but I’d just remind him of what he’d always told me – that things always work out.
Don’t get me wrong, Stuart was not a saint. But he always strived to do the right thing. And that legacy lives on in his kids, who are so blessed to have been raised by him; in me, as I carry on our company without him; and in our crew, past and present, who embody so much of what he stood for.
I have truly been blessed to have known him so completely. I am thankful that I do much of what he spent his life doing. As painful as it has been to go to the jobsite or the boatyard without him, these places are full of wonderful memories and people who knew him and adored him. I don’t need to tell anyone “about my brother”. Everyone knows him, knows how close we were, and “gets it”. I can rest assured that his spirit will live on, in the fond memories and hilarious stories we can all share together – and that when I bring my son, Stuart, on the jobsite or to the yard, they and he will appreciate that special connection and how wonderful it feels to say that name.
In his toast at our Rehearsal Dinner, Stuart referred to me, as he often did, as “The Eternal Optimist”. He then added that often, the more optimistic I was, the more nervous he got. Lately though, he was the one with the hope and determination. Late last fall, Stuart and I went to the boatyard to winterize the engine on Tradition. At that point, I had learned enough about renal cancer to be really scared. I didn’t let on to Stuart, but I knew in my gut that this would be the last time the two of us would be on the boat together. I watched him admire the harbor, assuming he was agonizing over those same dreaded thoughts himself. Instead, he turned, caught sight of a brand new red Beneteau, and remarked with a smile, “Maybe our next boat should be a brand new boat.”
Thank you.
Thank you all for being a part of this very special day. And I’ll get it out right up front – I’m the crier in the family. My plan is to get through this, and I’d appreciate it if you did the same. No sniffles, no kleenex. No wailing, no moaning, no gasping for air.
As most of you know, Stuart and I spent a fair bit of time together. There was all week at work, most weekends talking about work, spring time getting the boat ready, the fall winterizing the boat, and of course all the major holidays that required us to stop working and sailing altogether, and just be together. That’s what happens when you own a business together, own a boat together, and happen to be brothers. You become best friends.
Growing up, our garage was the place to be. There you could find mini-bikes, mopeds, and go-carts – in various stages of repair – and Stuart, always at the center, the one keeping them all running. Stuart tinkered and I was the little brother holding the flashlight.
Stuart’s modesty was legendary. I asked him to be my best man, he said, because I had “too many friends” and couldn’t choose just one. I named my son Stuart, he said, because our dad was named Stuart and because I had “so many great friends named Stuart”. When I told him it was to honor him, he thought I was joking. When I finally convinced him, he was downright giddy. The two Stuarts shared a wonderful bond – a fun-loving uncle with the same name was an absolute delight in the eyes of my son Stuart.
Stuart and I were passionate about many of the same things – family, building, sailing, and boats of every single type – big or little, wooden or fiberglass, old or new, power or sail, any boat but an ugly boat. Spring weekends for 14 years were about cleaning and scraping, varnishing and painting together at the Mattapoisett Boatyard. That was when I felt closest to Stuart – the companionship, the banter, just the right tool for every job – we were the envy of every other boat owner in the yard. Every Memorial Day weekend, he and I would sail the boat from Mattapoisett to Waquoit, sometimes with Ben or Matthew, but always with each other. Through Woods Hole, Quick’s Hole, tucking into Hadley’s Harbor, sometimes overnight at Cutty Hunk or over to Menemsha... it marked the beginning of summer, another season to do what we loved the most, a joyful, exhilarating experience… and that weekend was nearly always 45 degrees, foggy, rainy, and windy.
We also made each other laugh – sometimes at the most inopportune times. Shortly after the start of our partnership, we were hired to build a house. Not a basement, not a garage, not even an addition, but a completely new, custom home. Those clients must have been out of their minds. We met them at the site to mark tree removal. We were trying really hard to sound and act like we had years of experience. It was a warm evening and the bugs were coming out. As Stuart spray-painted markings on the trees, I ran for a can of bug spray in my truck. I sprayed myself, the clients helped themselves to the spray, and then I gave it to Stuart to use. I considered making some crack about not mixing up the two cans he held, but, again, I was trying hard to exude calm confidence. Sure enough, right in front of the clients who’d hired us to build their dream house, Stuart proceeded to spray paint the entire length of his leg. Well, that was it for us. The clients attempted to carry on with the meeting, as if nothing really funny had happened, but it was a lost cause. We’d momentarily regain our composure, only to collapse in hysterical laughter, tears streaming down our faces. Those were the early, shaky days of Whitla Brothers Builders. And for 18 years, no two partners worked or laughed as hard in the process of building a business as Stuart and I did. We always strived to do it well and to have fun.
A frustrating problem became an interesting challenge when we tackled things together, and we gave each other the confidence we often lacked in ourselves. When one of us couldn’t see eye to eye with a client, together we could; when one of us couldn’t get the engine going, together we could; when an architect’s drawings simply didn’t translate into the 3-dimensional world, together we could make it work.
Stuart was good natured and easy going – though occasionally his calm demeanor would crack. Rarely did anyone else see that – but I’d just remind him of what he’d always told me – that things always work out.
Don’t get me wrong, Stuart was not a saint. But he always strived to do the right thing. And that legacy lives on in his kids, who are so blessed to have been raised by him; in me, as I carry on our company without him; and in our crew, past and present, who embody so much of what he stood for.
I have truly been blessed to have known him so completely. I am thankful that I do much of what he spent his life doing. As painful as it has been to go to the jobsite or the boatyard without him, these places are full of wonderful memories and people who knew him and adored him. I don’t need to tell anyone “about my brother”. Everyone knows him, knows how close we were, and “gets it”. I can rest assured that his spirit will live on, in the fond memories and hilarious stories we can all share together – and that when I bring my son, Stuart, on the jobsite or to the yard, they and he will appreciate that special connection and how wonderful it feels to say that name.
In his toast at our Rehearsal Dinner, Stuart referred to me, as he often did, as “The Eternal Optimist”. He then added that often, the more optimistic I was, the more nervous he got. Lately though, he was the one with the hope and determination. Late last fall, Stuart and I went to the boatyard to winterize the engine on Tradition. At that point, I had learned enough about renal cancer to be really scared. I didn’t let on to Stuart, but I knew in my gut that this would be the last time the two of us would be on the boat together. I watched him admire the harbor, assuming he was agonizing over those same dreaded thoughts himself. Instead, he turned, caught sight of a brand new red Beneteau, and remarked with a smile, “Maybe our next boat should be a brand new boat.”
Thank you.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Thinking of Stuart - by Keith Thomajan
Today is my youngest son Walt’s 4th birthday. Lots of kids, lots of folks here. Thought about Stuart and all of you much of the day, and kept feeling I wanted to be there.
Keith Thomajan
Keith Thomajan
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Remembering Stuart - by Michael Sullivan
This is taken after a trip to Provincetown with Bill Kelley, Stuart, Karen, Betsy and Michael Sullivan on Bills' fathers boat. We weren't supposed to go there, but somehow ended up there. We got stuck their for the night and had no clean clothes, so we bought matching T-shirts, it's really the hair that made us cool. Might actually have been taken in the 70's.
Bill, Michael and Stuart with our first babies Pierce,Corey and Benjamin a few years later. We grew up together in many ways and will forever miss Stuart. Probably taken around 1983-1984.
Lucy (Loosey)'s first appearance
The memory that keeps surfacing is just a snapshot, but here goes. Ben and I were on the Medway White Sox in 4th grade, and I remember talking with Stuart and meeting Lucy for the first time before or after the game. I don't know whether he knew yet exactly what was in store with that wonderful beast.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)