Classic Tom
Though 95, Tom's mind was still sharp -- very sharp. We all enjoyed toying with his most recent invention, his latest -- last, it turns out -- patent. (Shh... its a secret.) Tom didn't want to found a new company to develop and market it, though because, as he said, "Starting a company takes time. Years, maybe. I'm not sure I have the energy." ...
When I was Master of the Lodge, I tried to get Tom to join one of our committees; I thought he could benefit from being engaged in that way. "I can't do it," he said, "I don't have the time."
"Tom," I told him, "It's no problem: we'll make it light on your schedule."
"No," he insisted, "I mean it: I just took over the Lowell canal system. I'm managing 12 people and a million-dollar budget. I don't have the time." (That's paraphrased: I may have the details wrong, but you get the point.) I think Tom turned 90 that year. ...
Tom grew up in The Depression. He told a story about how the grocer would put aside for his mother onions that had fallen out of the shipping sacks, sneaking them to her once a week: "Normally we got by on potato soup, but on Thursdays, we had potato-and-*onion* soup!" His enthusiasm was infectious; his popularity as a raconteur sometimes made it tough to get a seat at his table.
...
He drank Wild Turkey (with a little water) and smoked one cigar a day -- no more. I have some Cubans I'd been saving for him, but he'd missed our July cookout. I was going to hand them over at our September meeting in a couple of weeks...
I'm going to miss Tom -- his stories, his ribbing, our good-natured collegiate rivalry; indeed, his good nature in general. I think I'll tipple down some "brown liquor" in his memory; in fact, I've already started.
Posted by David Risgin
Wednesday August 30, 2017 at 10:26 am