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A Little Magazine
by and for the
Residents of Southport Number 6 November 2010
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Miracles Sometimes Happen
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 If you don't believe in miracles, read the lead article in this issue of SVV and discover how Rick Farren's boyhood dream came true in a way that even he could not imagine. Also, be sure to read Rick's short story, "A Veteran's Grave," published in observation of Veterans Day, and note the Brown Bag Lunch on November 12. WWII veterans Al Benjamin and Eliot Sklar will share some of their experiences.Thanksgiving, coming up later this month, is a good time to remember all the things we have to be thankful for. My favorite poetic expression of thankfulness was written in 1877 by Gerard Manley Hopkins, an English poet and Jesuit priest. "Pied Beauty" begs to be read out loud. Devout or not, you will be thrilled by the imagery.Try it!
PIED BEAUTY
Glory be to God for dappled things-
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
As always, I am thankful for the Southporters who helped to put this issue of SVV together. Go to the end to see who they are. You are more than welcome to join our effort. Just send me a note and I'll get back to you. Happy Thanksgiving! David Kapp, Editor
ARCHIVE EDITION If your copy of SVV arrives without pictures or looking strange, please go click on the URL below:
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Dare to Dream: The Mounties & Me by Rick Farren
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 BACKSTORY
As a youngster in the early 1940s I was captivated by the radio program, Challenge of the Yukon, with Sergeant Preston of the Northwest Mounted Police--and his husky, Yukon King, and horse, Rex. I dressed like a Mountie and brought dozens of criminals to justice. Ricky, our family husky, played his role in my adventures, too. Harsh New York winters helped to fuel my imagination, and I knew that somehow, someday, I would become a Mountie. My dream never left me; however, fate intervened. I was not a Canadian citizen, and my aspiration went unfulfilled. |
FLASH FORWARD TO AUGUST 2010
Now, at age 71, I'd been living with stage-three lung cancer since March 2009, and I had a number of items on my bucket list; one of them was to follow my 65-year-old dream of connecting with the Mounties. So last August I decided to write a letter to the headquarters of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Ottawa, asking if they would send, at my family's expense, an RCMP constable in ceremonial dress--crimson jacket, Stetson hat, etc.--as an honor guard to my wake and funeral.
I took my request seriously. My wife, Ann, and our oldest daughter, Carolyn, worried that I had "lost a few beans." They were gracious enough to humor me and attribute my strange behavior to my three rounds of chemotherapy. "Why," they contended, "would the RCMP agree to such a bizarre request from someone who was not a retired Canadian Mountie, let alone a Canadian citizen?" Good question.
I mailed my letter on August 17, 2010. Realistically, I didn't expect a reply, but at least I had followed my dream and it made me feel good. Two weeks later, while I sat reading in my armchair, the phone rang and the caller asked for me. I almost hung up before I heard him say, "My name is Superintendent Greg Peters with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Ottawa, and I'm in receipt of your letter." Thank God I have a strong heart!
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Rick is honored by the RCMP and has a boyhood dream fulfilled. |
Superintendent Peters said he was impressed with my story; never, in his 29 years as a Mountie, had they received such a request. Pragmatic Ann said, "I'm sure not." My thought: "The worst that can happen is that they will say 'No.'" But they didn't; Peters had discussed my request with legal counsel in Ottawa and with the General Consul of the Canadian Embassy in Boston. They all agreed that they should respond to me request while I was alive.
Accordingly, they invited Ann and me and our entire family to attend the Topsfield (MA) Fair on October 6 and to sit in the VIP booth with the other dignitaries. At the fair, the Mounties performed their Musical Ride--32 of them on horseback, riding to music. (www.rcmpmusicalride.com) As the VIP that day, I was asked to return the salute to the officer in charge of the Mounted Brigade. (Only one invitee is asked to do this.)
 | | Rick's RCMP plaque |
During the ceremonies, I was presented with a large plaque bearing the image of a Mountie, and a paperweight and pen for my desk.
Most importantly, when my time finally comes, the RCMP has agreed to send a contingent of Mounties to my wake and funeral service--at their expense. My dream has been fulfilled after 65 years.
As the motto on my author's business card states: "Dare to Dream."
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The Farren Family (l. to r.) grandson Erik, oldest daughter Carolyn, Ann, RCMP Inspector Marty Chesser, Rick, grandaughter Kristen, and son-in-law Hardy |
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SOUTHPORT PROFILE
John Simmons: Union Man
An Interview with Ernest Ruber
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 | | John F. Simmons |
John F. Simmons was born in 1938 in Knoxville, Tennessee. When young, he listened to the Grand Ole Opry (as did I) and he can still play the banjo. He has been married to Dorothy McDonald ("Dottie") since 1962, and they have lived happily at Southport for "one year and a month." This is his story.
"I had a great childhood. My father was a weaver and my grandparents were farmers. I learned how to harness and drive horses and work on a farm. My formal schooling took place in Knoxville. I played football in high school and got a partial football scholarship to the University of Tennessee but decided college football was too rough and gave that up.
"Following my senior year in high school I worked that summer in Washington State. I had the job lined up and hitchhiked across the country to the Walla Walla Valley (the Valley of the Jolly Green Giant). I worked on a ranch and drove trucks on 12-hour shifts, lived in a bunkhouse, ate ranch food, and saved a lot of money. While there, I joined the Teamsters Union, which was a prophetic event. The next summer I worked out there in the cannery of Libby, MacNeil and Libby.
"After two years in college I dropped out and bummed around with a friend, ending up in Miami for a while. Having studied Spanish in high school and college, I made a lot of Cuban friends. About the time that Castro took over, I made several trips to Cuba and lived with a Cuban family. One time there was a countrywide three-day strike during which we had little but dark rum available. To this day I don't favor that drink.
"I love ballet and went to a performance featuring Alicia Alonso, then the prima ballerina of Cuba. Afterward I went up to talk to her and met Fidel Castro and his brother Raul. I finally left Cuba at gunpoint (well, I was leaving anyway, asked no questions and never returned).
"My friend and I decided to visit a mutual friend in Boston to go skiing. We liked it there and rented an apartment; both of us eventually married local girls. I got a summer job painting for a doctor. When the painting season was over he helped me get a job at St. Johnsbury Trucking Co., where my Teamsters membership came in handy. After six years, I left to sell real estate and bought the Watertown house that we owned until we came to Southport. In 1968 I returned to painting, a trade I had learned from my stepfather. I was a good rigger, unafraid of heights and able to reach difficult places. Of course I joined the Cambridge local union of Painters District Council 35. I painted for 12 years while also beginning to progress in the union itself. "Back in Boston, I served as a trustee of Benefits Funds, and in 1979 I was elected secretary treasurer of the District Council. During this time, our apprentice training program was upgraded and the national union ended up using many of our methods. From 1985-90, I chaired the Pension, Health and Welfare and Annuity Committee, where I had some interesting and constructive experiences. We had a lot of money from dues and used it in a number of charitable ways, doing voluntary painting for non-profits and religious institutions. This also allowed us to train apprentices and to employ some out-of-work painters. "Jean Yawkey, the wife of former Boston Red Sox owner Tom Yawkey, challenged us to a dollar-for-dollar job on the Jamie Fiske House, which provided a place for parents to live inexpensively while their kids were in Children's Hospital. We contributed $40,000 to this project.
"District Council 35 established a Political Action Committee and donated money to appropriate politicians during election season, and I became very popular at the State
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Former Boston Mayor Ray Flynn supported District Council 35 by helping to acquire land for a training facillity and interceding with Boston Gas to use union painters for Sister Corita's famous Boston Gas tank design. |
House. We self-funded our health, annuity and catastrophic health insurance, and still do; and with land donated by Mayor Ray Flynn for $1, we built a training facility in Roslindale that now also houses several other unions. Mayor Menino didn't like me much at first because he didn't favor signs and billboards that were done by our union members. Later, when he found out that about 280 Boston jobs were involved, he became friendlier.
"When Sister Corita's famous abstract design was to be painted on the 150' high Boston Gas tank in Dorchester, the company was going to do it with non-union labor. Mayor Flynn arranged a meeting for us with the gas company; I brought along a bunch of lapel buttons with GAS written with a red slash across it, which I proposed to hand out in downtown Boston. I don't know if that did the trick, but the company agreed to use union labor--and insisted that I get rid of the buttons. I gave them to the gas union for their negotiations.
"For the Union's 100th anniversary I had the task of creating a commemorative book, sponsored by advertisers. That generated a lot of money, which was placed in escrow. Told that we couldn't keep the money because of federal law, I went to a local priest and asked him to be the reader and judge of scholarship applications. The money was used to fund six scholarships that still exist, and it was a great thrill to meet successful students in later years. "In 1988 I attended the Harvard Trade Union Program and used this experience in negotiating contracts and teaching other union officers how to do so. In 1990 I was elected president of the Boston Building Trades Council and moved up to general representative in my union. I negotiated the Boston Harbor Clean Up and Big Dig labor agreements and helped local unions with their contracts. There were challenges right up to the Supreme Court on some contracts, but we prevailed, of which I am proud. "From 1990 to 1996, Dottie and I relocated to Washington, DC when I became executive assistant to the general secretary treasurer. He lived in California so I ran the operation in DC. There were 37 employees of the International Allied Painter Headquarters and it was a complicated job managing all aspects of the union. "As an international organizer, I was assigned to Atlanta prior to the Olympics. We voluntarily painted 486 houses to make the city look better, using 12 homeless workers provided by the mayor. One woman had never earned a paycheck before this. Eight of the
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John, here with Massachusetts State Sentate President Tom Birmingham, was director of administration for the Senate for five years, following retirement from his union career. |
12 had regular positions as painters after we finished. We also used apprentices in training, who came on weekends from all over the eastern seaboard. It was rewarding work. After more than a year in Atlanta I wanted to get back to Boston, but the union wanted me in Virginia, so I retired. "In Boston I re-connected with one of my former attorneys, Tom Birmingham, who was now president of the Senate. Tom offered me the position of director of administration for the Massachusetts State Senate, which I accepted. In 2003, as I reached 65, I retired again. "We sold the Watertown house, moved to Southport and are very happy here! I feel very fortunate in my life and career and in my ability to do some good for people."
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Thoughts from Life's Adventures to Nowhere
by Joe Marino
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Have you ever had the feeling that you forgot to leave an impression with someone, or have you worried over the fact that your legacy will be so bland that there will be nothing to say of you at your passing? There are times in our lives that can only be described as mundane, boring, ritualistic, zombie like, or bland. It's called survival. It usually happens to you during the years from when you have your first kid to when the last payment for college is made.
Well fear not because there are pictures! The Kodak moment taken long ago will be found and placed on corkboard easels in an entryway to a funeral home for everyone to peruse. And they will peruse. I went to a wake recently that had a line of people that extended out the door, down the stairs, and across the lawn. I thought to myself, this guy must have been more popular than I ever knew him to be. I remember that the line did not seem to be moving. The answer became apparent as I finally got inside the front entry of the building.
There, in the room that precedes the entry to the room where you pay your respects to the gathered attendees of the person being honored, were several, maybe ten of these easels loaded with pictures, some of which even included an image of the departed member that we were all gathered there to honor. In between the easels, placed delicately on tables, were various size scrapbooks also loaded with pictures. The majority of the people were looking at every picture, on every easel, and they had to go through every scrapbook to see if they themselves were included in any of the pictures.
Who was the person that came up with this idea in the first place? I would design it a lot differently if I were to be placed in charge. First of all, and I've made this comment to many a funeral director, there should be a room that one could go into, sit down in a comfortable movie type seat, and view all the slide show pictures that the hosts had to offer. This could have an accompaniment by low-keyed string music played in the best surround sound Bose has to offer, at a decibel level just above a whisper.
People could enjoy a beverage--maybe a snack--even a sandwich supplied by a caterer for a nominal fee, of which a percentage could be set aside to help defray the cost of the funeral itself. We all know how expensive it is to leave this earth, or would you say enter the earth? Wow, talk about a play on words.
This would also alleviate the stress placed on one's back from trying to get a look at the pictures at the bottom of the easel. And those dainty end tables are way too short for one to bend over for a long period of time while flipping through the many pages contained in the many scrapbooks supplied by the grieving family.
I can remember when people stopped in front of the deceased, said a quiet prayer from a kneeler and, wait a minute--were they paying their respects or craning their necks to make sure the florist sent a proper arrangement, and that their card was printed big enough for all to see?
Try to remember that these are just thoughts and, by the way, my picture was in album four next to easel six, and boy is my back killing me.
For now, be well, and may your God bless you, Joe
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EATING IN
The Southport Phantom Is Back ...with Recipes for Cold Nights Ahead
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It won't be long before the beautiful fall foliage disappears and the cold days and nights of winter will be upon us. When it's 20 degrees and the snow is blowing sideways, most of us will want to stay by the fireplace rather than going out to a restaurant. (Some of us do stay here at Southport for the winter). For those of us who stay and endure the winter weather, the Phantom has some recipes to make the season more pleasant.
SQUASH SOUP
INGREDIENTS
2 sprigs fresh rosemary--chopped
1 pinch kosher salt
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Cooking spray
1 small butternut squash--peeled, seeded, and cut into large chunks
3 rutabagas--peeled and cubed
4 parsnips--peeled and thickly sliced
4 new potatoes--peeled and halved
10 cups chicken stock
Salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 teaspoons aged balsamic vinegar
2 teaspoons white truffle oil (optional)
DIRECTIONS
With a mortar and pestle, grind the rosemary and kosher salt together. Pour in olive oil and continue to mash until the oil starts to turn a darker green. Set aside for an hour.
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.
Coat a shallow roasting pan with cooking spray. Place the squash, rutabagas, parsnips and potatoes in a large bowl. Pour the olive oil mixture through a fine-mesh strainer into the bowl. Toss vegetables with oil to coat. Spread vegetables Evenly on the prepared pan. Roast 30 minutes in the preheated oven, until nicely browned and cooked through. You may need to remove some of the smaller pieces from the oven before all of the vegetables are cooked to avoid burning them.
While the vegetables are roasting, simmer chicken stock in a large pot over medium low heat. When the vegetables are done, add them to the stock and simmer together for about 10 minutes.
Use an immersion blender to puree the soup in the pot, or puree in batches in a blender or food processor. Add extra broth or water if the soup is too thick. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Serve in warmed bowls, garnishing each serving by drizzling a quarter teaspoon of balsamic vinegar and a quarter teaspoon of white truffle oil over the soup. You could also serve this pale orange soup garnished with finely chopped sauteed cooking greens.
OVEN-FRIED CHICKEN
INGREDIENTS
Cooking spray
1 1/3 cups crispy rice cereal
2 1/4 cups bagel chips or Melba toasts
5 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
3/4 teaspoon hot paprika
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1 1/2 cups plain Greek yogurt (2%)
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
4 skinless, bone-in chicken thighs or halved bone-in breasts
(about 6 ounces each)
2 bunches scallions
Harissa, chili sauce or ketchup, for the sauce
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees F. Set a rack on a foil-lined baking sheet and coat the rack generously with cooking spray.
Finely grind the cereal and bagel chips in a food processor and transfer to a large resealable plastic bag. Add 3 teaspoons olive oil, the paprika, 2 teaspoons salt, and pepper to taste and toss.
Whisk 1/2 cup yogurt and the mustard in a shallow bowl. Add the chicken and turn to coat, then transfer to the bag; seal and shake to coat. Place the chicken on the rack and mist with cooking spray.
Toss the scallions with the remaining 2 teaspoons olive oil and place alongside the chicken. Bake the chicken until the coating is crisp and a thermometer inserted into the thickest part registers 160 degrees F. (about 30 minutes).
Make the dipping sauce: Mix the remaining 1 cup yogurt and harissa to taste in a bowl. Serve the chicken and scallions with the sauce.
HEALTHY THOUGHT FOR THE MONTH: The Must-Eat Green Most People Overlook
In the produce aisle, kale has been getting a lot of attention for being a vitamin-and nutrient-packed superfood. But, aesthetically, we're drawn to watercress, with its pretty, petite leaves. Turns out, watercress gives kale a run for its money. In fact, while much more research is needed, a recent study found that watercress might reduce your risk of breast cancer, thanks to a compound that inhibits a protein related to tumor growth.
"In addition to the compound in this study, a cup of watercress contains plenty of vitamins A and C and boasts an entire day's worth of vitamin K, a nutrient that helps keep your bones strong and your heart healthy--and just four calories," says Monica Reinagel, M.S., a nutritionist, and chef. "It's also a mild diuretic, which can help you shed excess fluid if you're bloated from too much salt.
Some Smart Ways To Add Watercress To Your Diet
1) Pair it with chicken or fish.
2) Mix it with warm pasta.
3) Pair it with other items like a shrimp, watermelon and watercress salad.
Make it a part of an all-round heart healthy meal. Stay healthy and keep warm. |
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Remembering Veterans
The Veteran's Grave
A Short Story by Rick Farren
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My parents told me that the day I was born, August 17, 1925, was a beautiful warm summer day. I enjoyed my 'formative' years in grade school, making lasting friends and reveling in the fact that my uncle came home a hero from World War I, earning the Purple Heart, and the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was my inspiration and I hoped that someday I could be a soldier like him. Now, I realize that I am just like him.
It's 1943. I enlisted in the Army and am serving in the 82nd Airborne. Training was tough-intensive. Days ran into nights-nights into weeks-weeks into months, and finally, graduation. To sail like a bird through the sky-free and uninhibited--is indescribable! There's nothing like the excitement of jumping out of a C-47 at 10,000 feet, the ground rushing up in my face at 100 miles an hour. Before we knew it we were packing our gear and going off to war. Not much time at home-just enough to say goodbye.
June 6, 1944. The drone of the plane's engines drowns out any conversation between us as we sit in jump seats facing one another, faces blackened with camouflage paint, chutes lashed to our chests, weapons loaded. My heart was beating like a drum. I can't remember ever being so scared.
The claxon horn sounds and the green jump light comes on. The jumpmaster motions for us to stand and "hook up." We check the equipment of the man in front of us and move like robots to the open door. A slap on the shoulder and I'm out the door, sailing through the night sky with hundreds of others to the drop zone just beyond the cliffs of Normandy at Sainte-Mère-Église.
I land hard and run to link up with my comrades. By bad luck I am face to face with the enemy. He's young and looks scared, just like me. I hesitate for just a moment-can I take a life? Can I take this boy's life? He's no older than I am. That's all it takes-just a moment-just a heartbeat, and he pulls the trigger first.
Now I lie here in the American Cemetery at Normandy, beneath a polished marble cross facing west. Don't weep for me-I fought and died for my country, and yet I'm only 19. Now I sleep beneath the grass with my buddies, secure in the fact that we did our duty-fulfilled our promise-and our mission.
When I reached the Pearly Gates, St. Peter asked me what I did to gain entrance to the heavenly confines. I replied, "I am an American soldier."
The photograph was taken by Southport resident Ann Wells during a visit to Normandy and Omaha Beach on September 4, 2010. ________________________________________________________________________________________________
We Were There: A Veterans Day Tribute The November 12th Brown Bag Lunch will feature decorated World War II veterans, and Southport residents, Al Benjamin and Eliot Sklar. They will share some of their wartime experiences and answer questions from the audience.  | | Al Benjamin |
In 1942, at the age of 18, Al Benjamin enlisted as an aviation cadet in the Army Air Force. As a commissioned navigator based in England, he flew 31 missions over France, Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands. In 1944, the B-17 bomber in which he was flying was shot down over Belgium; he was able to bail out and eventuually was rescued.
 | | Eliot Sklar |
Eliot Sklar enlisted in the US Navy in 1941, also at the age of 18, and served as a gunner on the destroyer USS Hamblelton, He saw action in the Mediterranean, at Normandy, and participated in the capture of Okinawa in 1945.
Sign up for this memorable presentation in the Information Room.
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A New England Travel Odyssey
Coastal Maine and the White Mountains of New Hampshire
by Karlyn Curran
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In late September, three of my college friends flew in from Florida and the State of Washington. The next day we left for an eight-day driving trip with two things in mind: to explore the coast of Maine and then to do some leaf peeping in New Hampshire on our way home.
Our first stop after leaving Southport was for lunch and a little sightseeing in Kennebunkport, Maine, where we enjoyed fried haddock sandwiches while sitting on a bench overlooking the water. By evening, having settled into our hotel, we found ourselves eating fish again, this time at dinner in a floating restaurant on the waterfront in the Old Port section of Portland.
 | | Karlyn (in black) and friends at dinner in the Old Port section of Portland, Maine |
Early next morning we boarded the mail boat that delivers mail and supplies to the residents of four islands in Casco Bay. The boat also functions as a ferry, transporting islanders back and forth to the mainland, and as a tour boat, allowing visitors like us to experience the beauty of the waters surrounding Portland. At each island we watched as mail and other necessities were quickly unloaded, sometimes by crane, and transferred into pick-up trucks to be driven to their destinations. We sat next to a vivacious woman; she and her husband are among the 40 year-round residents of Cliff Island, the last island we stopped at. The population of Cliff Island swells during summer months, just as it does on Cape Cod.
In the afternoon we walked to the Portland Museum of Art, designed by I.M. Pei, and viewed paintings by Winslow Homer and Andrew Wyeth. Of course, we made time to do a little shopping on cobblestoned Fore Street in the restored Old Port Exchange, adjacent to Portland's waterfront. Evening again found us eating at a waterfront fish restaurant.
 | | Boothbay Harbor |
Shopping at LL Bean in Freeport was the first item on our agenda for the following morning. Next stop was lunch in Boothbay Harbor, a picturesque seaport village located on an arm of a peninsula that juts into the Atlantic Ocean. After a quick stop in Camden, which boasts of having one of the prettiest harbors in Maine, we checked into our motel in Lincolnville. I vacationed in this area for years when my children were young and couldn't wait to eat steamed clams and lobster at the Lobster Pound, my favorite restaurant in Maine!
Breakfast was at a bakery in Belfast, an old depressed industrial town just off Route 1. Again, I wanted to revisit this town, which held such fond memories for me. The ancient brick buildings on Main Street hadn't changed much, but many of the large Victorian houses on the outskirts had been bought and restored by retirees from out of state.
We spent the rest of that day and the next one in Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park. We drove up Cadillac Mountain, the highest point on the eastern coastline of North America, hiked on the carriage roads, heard the thunder-like rumbling of the ocean at Thunder Hole, and ate a picnic lunch in the middle of all the natural beauty of Mount Desert Island. Then we drove to Augusta to spend the night before embarking on the second half of our trip.
 | | The rocky coastline of Acadia National Park |
The rest of our trip was all about leaf peeping. By late morning we were driving on the Kancamagus Highway, a 35-mile stretch of road in the White Mountains of New Hampshire that is rated as one of the ten most scenic drives in the United States. We stopped often for short hikes into rocky gorges and to view awesome waterfalls. We ate another picnic lunch along the way. Later we headed toward Franconia Notch, where some of us hiked the Flume Gorge while the others took a tram up Cannon Mountain to view the leaves from a higher vantage point. Although the leaves were about a week shy of peak, they were good enough for us, especially for my two friends from Florida, who hadn't seen New England's brilliant autumn foliage for years!
By dinnertime we were in Lyme, New Hamppshire, a small town just north of Hanover, where both of my sons live. One of them has a two-bedroom apartment over his garage, which became our hotel for the next two nights. We spent the next day sightseeing in Hanover (home of Dartmouth College), Quechee and Woodstock, Vermont. We hiked Quechee Gorge (Vermont's little Grand Canyon) and spent a few hours in Woodstock, a charming little resort village.
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Getting lost on the backroads of Vermont was a highlight of our trip. |
The best part of our day was when we intentionally got lost on a backcountry road outside of Woodstock. The road started out as paved but quickly turned into a one lane hard packed dirt road that extended for about ten miles before we came to a crossroad. The leaves along this road were spectacular--better than anything we had seen in New Hampshire the day before!
When we finally arrived at that crossroad, we took out our GPS, which led us back to the highway and into civilization again. Of course, the bonus to this part of the trip was the evenings we spent with my sons, their wives, and my granddaughter.
By Wednesday morning our vacation was almost over. All that remained was to drive back to Southport and spend the night before delivering my friends to the Providence Airport in the morning. We had a great trip and a great reunion and are looking forward to the next time we travel together. |
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A Quilting Weekend
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Eighteen industrious and enthusiastic quilters tackled their UFOs (UnFinished Objects) during the Second Annual Southport Quilters Weekend, October 22-24. For the event, the Bonvie Ballroom was transformed into a Southport Village version of a sweatshop-sewing machines, tables littered with scissors, pins, thread, needles and fabrics, while women labored over their partially completed projects, and Betty Kayes roamed the room, offering encouragement and advice. It was a time for sharing, learning, and most of all, for fun!
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Some of the quilters attending the Southport Quilters Weekend are pictured above with Pat Warry's "Cape Cod" quilt--the largest one she's ever made. The weekend group included: Bonnie Towle, Lynn Vigeant, Elizabeth Donovan, Judy Squires, Pat Bryant, Gert McDonough, Mary McCormack, Joan Keefe, Marlene Freeman, Claire Cilcommins, Dot Barr, Pat Warry, Joanne Giusti, Jan Miller, Gail Jordan, Cele Cincotta, Carol Eaton, and Betty Kayes. |
 | | Claire Kilcommins |
 | | Pat Warry |
 | | Carol Eaton |
 | | Jan Miller |
 | | Judy Squires |
 | | Dot Barr |
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Contributors to Southport Village Voices
November 2010
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 Karlyn Curran moved to Southport from New Jersey a little over seven years ago. She has a daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren in Falmouth and two sons, a daughter-in-law and another grandchild near Hanover, NH. After her husband passed away and she retired from her teaching career, she moved to New England to be closer to her children. She loves Southport and Cape Cod. Even more than that, she loves her family and being a "hands-on" grandma. She caught the travel bug from her husband and this has resulted in a chronic condition.
 Rick Farren was born in Boston and grew up on his family's farm in Westchester County, NY. His parents helped shape his love of writing and adventure. His father, a sportswriter and newspaper reporter, encouraged him to learn a new word every day and to write a story using the new words every week. His mother was a stunt pilot who taught her children never to be afraid to try something new and exciting. Rick's love of reading was influenced by A Child's Garden of Verses, westerns by Zane Gray, Grimm's Fairy Tales, Longfellow's poems, and stories of pirates on the high seas. Rick served in the US Air Force and retired from a career in banking and financial services. He and his wife Ann, a former nurse, raised four children in Brockton. They moved to Southport in 2009. Rick is an active member of the Monument Beach Sportsmen's Club, the Cape Cod Writer's Center, and the Falmouth Theater Guild. He enjoys writing stories for his and Ann's grandchildren, golfing, mystery writing and community theater.
David Kapp, with his wife Billie, moved from Connecticut to Southport in November 2009. David retired from a career as a university library administrator, after working in the libraries at Brandeis, Harvard and the University of Connecticut. He was a building consultant for the planning of a number of major university libraries and was, for many years, the editor of Connecticut Libraries. Billie enjoyed a career as an educator and social sciences consultant. Their son and daughter live in Hawaii, and they have one grandson.
 Joe Marino Born in Boston, raised in Milton--the adopted son of Joseph and Rose (Grasso) Marino. Had my first business at 22--Hell of a mechanic--lousy business man. Ten-year span of working for others, but always felt that I should try again. Second time met with success. Married for 47 years to Carmela--alias Carmen, or to her family MA! Proud father of four sons--a foster son and foster daughter, two girls, eleven and ten, that stayed with us a lot after their dad died. There were other kids that had bumps in their lives that stayed with us on occasion, one even graduated high school while with us. Have always loved sports--horses--the ocean--fishing. You name it I've tried it. Retirement is not one of my stronger adjustments--wish I had taken my wife's advice about seeking out adoption records sooner. Have been fortunate to find family members and add them to my life. Love my involvement in Kiwanis--allows me to do things for and with youth and this can be the secret to staying young in spirit  Ernest Ruber and his wife of 55 years, Natalie, have lived at Southport since 2002. They have two children and one grandchild. Ernie retired from Northeastern University where he was professor of biology and ecology. He has constructed an interpretive nature trail at Southport and has written many nature/science articles for the Southport Newsletter and has also reported on pool tournaments, in which he usually plays. And, of course, The Southport Phantom |
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