Remembering Florrie on her birthday (by Priscilla Fitzhugh)

I'm thinking of Mother today. A few photos to share with you on Easter, especially in thankfulness for...

Her spirit,
Her appreciation of beautiful things,
Her tending of her family,
Her Chatham welcome, her generosity,
Her love so freely given.
On her birthday, we give thanks for her loving presence in our lives, and all the blessings that have come to us through her. How lucky for us that she lived a long life, almost reaching her 93rd birthday.

Christmas 2007

Thanksgiving 2006

Happy 90th Grandma!

Nick's graduation from Montpelier High School

"Mother" by Bill

Ninety-three years is a long time to be alive, and yet my mother managed to wring the best out of every wakeful minute - and she didn't sleep much. I can't remember a single time when she went to bed before me, and she'd always be up with breakfast on the table when I came down in the morning. She had the kind of energy that never dissipated; it was always there, close to the surface. As kids we saw it in social settings - in receptions she'd organize for the Episcopal Church or Dad's Class of '35 reunions. But I remember it most in the annual Christmas eve parties she and Dad would throw when "we kids" were all assembled back home. If we talked too long with one person she'd haul us off with the command, "Circulate!" The greatest fun was the gossip around the kitchen table at the end of the evening. If Dad's fish-house punch had done its trick, there was much to recount.

I have a lot to thank her for besides how to be sociable. She got me out in the garden at 125 Cherry Valley Road, in Garden City, chasing crab-grass and weeding the garden. I was not big on mowing, but digging dirt led me to archaeology. Later, when I took to the woods in Chappaqua, burned down the big blue spruce, or tested rockets in the basement I got stern looks and words, but never condemnation. She was the perfect Mom.

More than Dad, it was Mother who encouraged me to set my eyes on distant horizons. Dad taught me to sail, how to build things and be academic. But even though he was a valedictorian chemist, my rocket-fuel experiments were not appreciated. Unlike Dad, Mother was there all the time and later in life was the one most interested in my comings and goings, my science, and my career. She had a great sense about how to work with people, and we all benefited from that.

She was not especially interested in traveling or exotic places; the home was the center of her world, and her principal implements of authority were pruning shears, which she wielded ruthlessly -- and the telephone. We used to time her conversations to see how long she'd go before pausing for a response. The remarkable thing was that no one ever seemed to mind.

It wasn't until we got older that we realized what a generous spirit she had, and how devoted a friend she was to so many people, mostly women, although she also had many close male friends. Here the metric was the Christmas card box-so full it took days of communal reading sessions to get through it!

She wasn't much for helping me with homework, but she always remembered to make me snow pudding with custard sauce when I returned from school or a summer away. She could make a mean Cape Cod chowder, and I'll never forget her lobster salads and those funny-shaped pinto beans with milk sauce we'd have on the Fourth of July.

Dad called her the Dragon Lady in honor of her mock ferociousness, and named a boat after her; but she was anything but dragon-like. She loved to dance, to dress up in outrageous costumes, to mime and 'act out'. She had a theatrical sense and a commanding bearing. She was tall, beautiful, stood out, and had natural grace. She loved her family and her many friends. She loved her years at Kendal because of all the new friends and activities it provided after her infamous 'Charleston' knee began to restrict her beloved gardening and community work.

She died with few regrets, leaving us all stronger and wiser and full of mountains of memories. The final week was nothing short of miraculous. The ripples of our lives returned to her at the center of our big family pond, paused momentarily, and then spread out again for new horizons. She is missed but is already legendary.

Bill Fitzhugh
20 March 2009

Obituary

FLORENCE HARDY FITZHUGH

Florence Hardy Fitzhugh, 92, resident of Kendal at Hanover, died there on March 14, 2009. She was born in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, on April 12, 1916, the daughter of Chester Sargent Hardy and Priscilla Covell Hardy and had three younger siblings: Henry, Priscilla, and James (formerly of Wilder and Hartland, Vermont).

Florrie attended the one-room Crocker School in Fitchburg and was taught by her aunt through eighth grade. She went on to Holton Arms School in Washington, DC, where she was the only student from New England. Florrie thrived in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the nation's capital and enjoyed the independence the school encouraged. At Vassar College she seized academic challenges and participated in college life with great enthusiasm. She majored in Religion and minored in Art History, graduating in 1937. At both Holton and Vassar she was a student leader and formed many life-long friendships.

After Vassar, Florrie lived and worked in New York City. She married William Wyvill Fitzhugh, Jr. in December 1941, a week after Pearl Harbor. They had known each other since childhood in Chatham, Massachusetts, where both families spent summers. Florrie and Wyvill had two wartime children and two born after the war. They lived in Alexandria, Virginia, and Garden City, Long Island before moving to Chappaqua, New York. Retirement brought them to Norwich, Vermont, in 1982 and then to Kendal at Hanover. The summertime home, "Starboard Light," they maintained in Chatham throughout their lives became the favorite gathering place for their extended family.

Florrie spent her life engaged in volunteer work in her various communities and supported many worthy organizations. Among them were the Garden City Community Club, United Nations Women's Committee, Vassar College Alumnae Council, the Westchester Vassar Club, the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens at Kitchewan, St. Mary's in the Field in Valhalla, New York, and the Norwich Women's Club. She spearheaded the Norwich Bicentennial Committee soon after moving to Norwich and quickly got to know the town's history through interviews with its oldest residents. Throughout her life Florrie was an active supporter of Holton Arms and Vassar, attending and helping to plan nearly every reunion. Married to a Dartmouth '35 graduate, she also organized and enjoyed many Hanover reunions.

Florrie's abiding interests were her family and friends. Her sense of humor and willingness to be silly could be counted on to enliven a gathering. She enjoyed decorating and maintaining her homes, entertaining, gardening, classical music, art, movies, reading and when younger, dancing the Charleston. A prolific letter writer, she packed more onto a page or card than seemed humanly possible and embellished her husband's eagerly anticipated Christmas poems with lengthy messages. Florrie's inquiring mind led her to enroll in many local ILEAD courses. While at Kendal she established a gallery of rotating art exhibitions, featuring local artists.

Florrie is survived by her sister Priscilla Andrews of Groton, Massachusetts; four children, William W. Fitzhugh IV of Washington, DC, Priscilla S. Fitzhugh of Seattle, Washington, John H. Fitzhugh of Berlin, Vermont, and Portia L. Fitzhugh of Orford, New Hampshire; seven grandchildren; two great-grandchildren; and numerous nieces and nephews.

A memorial service will be held at Kendal at Hanover on Saturday, March 21 at 11:00 AM. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Vassar College, the Kendal Cadbury Fund, or the charity of one's choice.