Monthly Archives: November 2024

Blue Hills Brush Fire

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There were brush fires in the Blue Hills last week. You could smell the smoke from here, and coming home on Tuesday, you could even see it.

I used to live close by, and I still often take the motorcycle through there. So, I followed the news closely. Fortunately, the rain over the weekend had put the fires out, at least for now, so I made a point to take a drive through there.

It turns out I’d slightly misunderstood where the fires were. I thought they were on the part of Hillside between the police station and Chickatawbut; instead, it was nearly directly opposite the Houghtons Pond parking lot.

I’ve been saying for years that the area was due for a fire — the area along the road has been choked with dead wood and brambles for over a decade. It looks like the fire started near the edge of the road, then climbed the hill a bit.

I walked a little way — a very little way — into the burned out section, and it was dispiriting to see how much broken glass was there. This glass looked like it had been through the fire, so clearly, people had been treating it as a trash can for quite a while. Odds are, the fire was probably started by someone flicking a cigarette out their car window as they drove by.

The fire destroyed a fair number of trees, probably affected wildlife, and could have threatened homes if the wind had shifted and it had been able to jump the road. But it also looks like it’s cleared out a lot of the underbrush, and that’s probably to the good. It would not surprise me if the DCR chose to conduct controlled burns further up the road, once the drought subsides, to get rid of the fuel load there.

Once I had finished looking at the burned out area, I drove past the Trailside side, then back along Unquity Road and back along Hillside again. It looks like those areas are fine.

Uncle Tom

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We got some horrible news today. Uncle Tom died in his sleep last night.

Tom with oak stump

It was quite a shock — Tom always seemed both indefatigable and invincible. When he “retired” to the Cape, it was only a retirement from employment; he was always working hard around the two Cape houses.

Tom was my Dad’s youngest brother, the youngest of nine children. Their own father died while he was quite young, and so he got quite close with his older brothers. Family was very important to him.

He and my mother were very close, dating back to the time when Dad was working nights, Mum was a newlywed, and he’d drop by their apartment on the way home from hockey. He always gave her a preferred spot in the Cape House schedule, valued her opinion, and during her last decline, made a point of making the two hour trip off-Cape to see her.

He took an interest in me. He’s probably the person most responsible for my interest in photography; while he was in Vietnam, he sent back a complete darkroom set. When we were fourteen, he decided to take his two nephews, my cousin Bill and me, with him on a trip to Maryland and DC to visit his fiancee, Susan. Not many guys would have bothered, especially on a trip to see their girlfriend, but Tom did, and we had a great couple of days. We did a whirlwind tour of the capital, taking in the Smithsonian, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol. This was the time of the Watergate hearings, and I distinctly remember Senator Sam Ervin mugging to the gallery.

Tom could be intense, sometimes uncomfortably so. I got the impression he didn’t care for my Elementary Education major (he was right) and wanted me to go for a masters degree. For a while, due to the intensity, I avoided him, but after a while, he either mellowed, or he gave up, or I learned to not to take it personally.

Just as well, because he was a lot of fun to be around. Tom had a great sense of humor, and while we didn’t agree politically, he was always fun to talk to. He was also fun to work with– Tom liked to work and he was good company while doing so. He never talked down or made you feel stupid for not being as adept as he was; he took you as you were and accepted any help you could give.

When Tom had to remove a tree, he didn’t just cut it down. No. That would be too easy. Instead, he would undercut the roots with his beloved Kubota, then drag it out of the ground via main force. As recently as last week, my brother and I were making plans to go down and help him take down a tree.

And that’s one of the things that stings the most about this. All summer, I’ve been wanting and meaning to get down there to say hello. Mum’s illness has left me aware of how fragile health can be, and I’ve been wanting to see Tom while he was still fully himself, but the move took up nearly all my time for several months, and now it’s too late. If there’s a consolation, it’s that he died in his sleep, and didn’t go through a long period of decline. My cousin Mary sent us a picture of him taken just last week, walking his grounds with his dog, and joking about the high astronomical tide giving him “waterfront property”.

Family was important to Tom. He was close to his brother George, helped take care of Grandma, and always spoke highly of my Dad. He and Susan always seemed like a tight couple, and they raised three great children, all three of whom went through the service academies. He and his family were staples at Mum’s Christmas Eve parties, and he will be very sorely missed.

Tom and squirrelTom and MumSusan, Tom, Mum and Anne at Christmas EveMum and Tom at Mum's 80th birthdayTom and granddaughter Aria50 years of the Cape HouseTom and Susan at Chrissy's weddingTom skatingom pushing John Francis around the iceTom and KubotaTom last week

11/11

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Tomorrow is November 11. Mum’s birthday. The first birthday without her.

Mum was very proud of her birth date. When asked for her birthdate, she would just rattle it off. She loved that it was a holiday — for her, growing up, it was Armistice Day, the anniversary of the day fighting stopped in World War I. I’ve read stories of the end of the war, how at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the shooting stopped and troops on both sides, cautiously at first, and then joyously, came out of their trenches and embraced their former enemies.

The holiday became Veteran’s Day in 1954, and for a while, it was one of those moveable Monday holidays, but eventually, it returned to November 11th.

As for me, I’ll still be thinking of Mum. We met at the house today to try to figure out what to keep and what to leave for the liquidators. I’d never quite realized what a pack rat she’d become in her later years until I was responsible for dusting all her teapots, and today, going through all her old papers to figure out what to keep and what we could get rid of. She still had old bills from the 1960s in her files.

Birthdays and anniversaries are times for celebrations — until the person you’re celebrating isn’t around anymore. Then they become times to remember. Seems like I’m celebrating less and remembering more as time goes on. Tomorrow, I’ll be remembering Mum.