I was saddened to hear the news of Ann’s passing and want to offer my condolences to Steve, Cyndi, Lisa, and George, as well as the entire extended family. I wish I had the chance to see Ann in person before her passing, yet I take comfort in remembering our last phone conversation. It may have been a few years since we last spoke, but it felt just like picking up where we left off.
If I could, I would thank Ann for being there for me in my early 20s, when I was just coming out and did not yet know how to be myself. She accepted me and made me feel at home on Westland Street, where I essentially moved in and was always made to feel welcome. The memories I have of Ann span many, many years, from Westland Street, to Bartlett Street in Kingston, to her many visits to Kennebunk, Maine.
I will share a few memories that might bring a smile to the family.
Sunday nights around the table with spaghetti and meatballs and a loaf of crusty bread with plenty of butter, which we both loved. I was usually the lucky one to get the last glass of milk, and unbeknownst to everyone, it may have gone past the use-by date. I can still hear her laughing after I took a big gulp, and my face said it all.
A typical Monday might involve making a grocery list and then shopping. I remember Ann coming home from Market Basket in Methuen with a quick toot of the horn, then running up the stairs and sometimes straight to the bathroom. If it was summer, the house was delightfully cooled with the A/C cranked, and I can still hear the sound of the door slamming shut. We would go downstairs and bring up several bags filled with all sorts of treats she knew we loved: chips and whipped cream cheese, Mountain Dew, maybe a frozen pizza or two, ham and cheese, and other goodies. Who can forget pierogies? Yum. We shared a serious love for popcorn with plenty of butter, Thwaites pork pies, and the cheesecake recipe my Aunt Doris had given me.
When it came to cleaning the Westland Street house, Ann had it down to a science. I remember coming home from a night out in Boston to find her deep in the middle of cleaning, maybe vacuuming the house or scrubbing the porch. There was nothing better than walking into the smell of fresh cleaning products or a fresh shower curtain.
Let’s talk about indoor plants. Ann’s love for caring for plants was legendary in my book, equal only to her love for her cats, doves, and any animal in need. Coming from my parents’ house, where plants seemed to go to die, Ann’s collection was so refreshing. I can picture the windowsills filled with greenery and see her lifting a lemon geranium to her nose to smell it.
Whether Ann was making a quilt, gardening, calling birds, feeding stray animals, listening to music in the kitchen, or playing Scrabble at the table, she did it all with passion. Family was always important to Ann. Gram was at every birthday, and the aunts and their families always had a seat at the table. What I loved most of all about Ann was her ability to live by the beat of her own drum, doing what made her happiest. Love, Kevin
