As a young man, Syracuse rituals meant that on the weekends my sisters, mom, dad, and I would travel to Hamilton and Sherburne to visit grandparents. Hamilton was associated with Loch Lebanon, ice cream from Hobie's sub-shop, looking out for Mr. Nu, going through Grannie Annie's knick knacks, and a smoke-filled arena from Spence and Aunt Rena.
Sherburne meant Wink soda, perhaps a lunch at Ozzy's or pizza from Lewis's, a trip to see Betty Luly or Hugh and Alda, but always, always time with Pat Lemery, my grandma Vera's best friend. Usually she'd be at the house when we arrived, and if she wasn't, we'd get assigned the duty to wait for her on the front porch. I don't remember her ever driving - just that my Grandpa Ken used to say, "Yakkety yak, KC. You and your brother go and see if Pat is coming." That was the duty because KC was a talker when she was young. I think my grandfather simply wanted the silence for a bit before Pat came with for Sherburne gossip and cocktails.
It's hard for me to picture Sherburne, NY, without Pat Lemery, as she was a staple in the town. Her house was always clean, she was tremendously gracious, and she loved to sit and talk. I remember when Chitunga, mom, and I visited and she pulled our heads in close to get a good look at us. She could barely see, but she had magnifying lenses for her books (which were always piled by where she sat) and I always loved seeing her three children's high school pictures: Jack, Jim and Betty Ann. As kids, these photos captured an adolescence that came long before our own. The photos were more youthful than the black and white ones of our parents. There's had a hue of brown to them - an advancement of sorts.
Fast forward, my sisters and I became teenagers, too, and we'd often go to Sherburne for the pageant of bands (Cynde performed), and when we were old enough to drive, we'd come to town to visit Pat and our grandmother Vera. Grandpa Ken passed, and Pat became the permanent fixture on our visits. Always Vera and Pat...Pat and Vera. When Grandma died, it was Pat who was our Sherburne saint. She was family.
Soon, my sisters and I had senior year portraits of our own, moved into our adult lives, and became reflectors of our own pasts. Jack and Betty Ann were always a part of our world while growing up. Pat was KC's godmother and her son, Jack, was Cynde's godfather. The Lemerys and Crandalls were simply united. Living in Syracuse, too, we'd often visit Betty Ann in Liverpool.
In my head, people get frozen in the time where I last saw them. Jack and Betty Ann's kids are still little kids, playing with toys, and running around like cartoon hedgehogs.
My parents and I visited Pat and Betty Ann last year. The year before, Chitunga, my mom, and I did the same, making a road trip down memory lane. Although memorable and special to me, I know the memories for my parents were immense....all those years - a completely different time.
Pat lived to be 100 years old. That means her childhood was in the roaring time of America's post-WWI festivity, her teens in the depression of the 30s, and her young adult life during a 2nd world war. Her kids and family would come together in the 50s, grow up in the 60s, and begin starting their adult lives in the 70s. That is the time my sisters and I came into the picture. We were post Civil Rights marches, Korean and Vietnam Warms, and Woodstock. Pat Lemery's 100 years saw incredible change across the American landscape, all from the angle of a two-floor house on Main Street in Sherburne, NY. It's pretty remarkable to think about how much life she would have seen in ten decades.
My mother let me know Pat died on Saturday, and a part of me sunk into my own ribcage and stomach. We knew it wouldn't be long, and the passing came over the weekend. It is sad to see the ending of a legacy. I am sending love, comfort, peace, and memories to all who knew Pat, especially her immediately family, grandkids and great grandkids. It is something to lose someone who seemed destined to live forever. I am thinking of my family today, especially KC and my dad who had an extra-bond with Pat. I look at the photograph above and wonder, "How did she even recognize me when I visited?" I still see myself as a little kid skating on the sidewalk by her house. And I'm hearing Grandpa Ken picking on Pat, the moment she arrives. Pat will laugh and respond, "My God, Ken. I left the two of you alone for almost 20 years. You'd think you'd be glad to see me in the picture again."
In the sitcom of our lives, this is the only way I can imagine it plays out. "Hark," I hear my grandfather say. "Let's make a drink."
May the 3 of them look over us graciously, especially during these times.
