northtowardhome
North Toward Home
A notebook for ejforbes.com
Ed Forbes is a newspaperman who lives in Westchester County with his wife, Emily, their daughters, Caroline and Julia, and their beagle, Kennedy.
He holds degrees from St. Lawrence and Columbia and is a journalist for the USA TODAY Network. He is a senior editor at The Record and NorthJersey.com, as well as the Daily Record and DailyRecord.com.
He has previously worked as a senior editor at lohud and The Journal News.
When not worrying about the future of newspapers or daydreaming about the Adirondacks, he enjoys a good cocktail and collecting matchbooks.
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My mother, photographed as a senior at the College of St. Elizabeth in 1966.
Glasses of Graves ...
Tonight, we’ll raise some glasses of Graves to honor my mother. She would have turned 74 today.
My mother loved white Bordeaux — the drier, the better. Graves was her favorite. She was very upset for much of the 1980s and 1990s because waiters and waitresses would repeatedly offer her Chablis when she asked for a dry white wine. Come to think of it, we’ll probably have Martinis, which she also preferred dry as a bone, before the Graves is uncorked.
When her illness took a bad turn in the summer of 2016, she asked me to bring her a Martini as she convalesced. I complied. She had two sips and fell cold asleep — we thought briefly that I might have dispatched her. Happily, I was not a culprit in that caper. Mom hung on — and nearly pulled off the triumph of going home from assisted living — for another 8 months after the Martini. By Christmas, when I served her another one at our house in Mount Kisco, she delighted in it.
The aftermath of my mother’s death last April 19 has made for a long, arduous year.
When she went, Mike Kelly, my able colleague who is a veteran columnist at The Record, offered me a prescient warning.
“Give it a month, and you’ll feel it,” he said.
Mike was right.
A massive wave of grief washed over me on the morning of Saturday, May 20 — a month after my mother expired. I was in Canton. In giving my spring report to the Board of Trustees, I thanked them and the larger St. Lawrence community for the support we’d received in the darkest hours. Afterward, walking to Gunnison Memorial Chapel, I broke down.
In the weeks that followed, as spring gave way to summer, I fell into an ugly numbness of frustration, anger, disillusionment and discontent. With ebbs and flows, these feelings set upon me and clung on heavily through the fall and into the holidays. Christmas, blessedly, bore some relief. Through this winter, with its many bright moments — Caroline learning to ski, Julia learning to walk and talk, the grief began to lift.
Now, as we approach the one-year mark, I’ve reached a new plateau of solace. There’s much to be grateful for — the girls, our very supportive family and friends, my father’s relief and busy schedule. All of these things and more wrap into the legacy my mother left us. Her departure has also left me with newfound self-awareness. Through the darkest hours, I was learning constantly — and for that, I’m now grateful.
Despite my recent evolution in outlook, there are still moments of palpable loss. Any trip to my parents’ house is filled with memories and markers.
The clocks are still stopped at 1:54 — when she drew her final breath. I stopped them when we arrived home from Dover General, probably 20 minutes after she’d gone. Her magnets still cling to the iron ore in the bowl in the family room. Her reading glasses are still near her perch in the kitchen. Good wine — including some bottles of Graves — she’d bought is still stacked in the dining room. I’ve tried to keep up with her custom of changing out her display of old post cards on the music cabinet in the living room, but I noticed last weekend that they hadn’t been changed since Christmas. I missed New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day and Easter. Alas.
Over these next weeks, I expect to be pulled back to the events of a year ago often.
I’ll remember the misty fog that cloaked our iron hills on the morning of her funeral. I’ll remember the piper’s skirl at the cemetery. I’ll remember the fuss mourners made over Julia at Bermingham’s. I’ll remember the tributes I wrote. I’ll remember the camaraderie of the repast — all the St. Lawrence boys together at the bar taking down some Martinis that would have passed my mother’s muster and laughing about misadventures of long ago.
And I’ll remember my mother — her relentless, exacting need for information; the joy she found at our house in Yulan; her laughter.
For now, though, we’ll revel in her love of Martinis and Graves.
Happy Birthday, Elle. We miss you.
—EJF, April 5, 2018
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No. 25. A train day today. I’m in New York for some @stlawrenceu work and fun. . . . . #mountkisco #metronorth (at Metro North Train Station Mt Kisco)
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No. 22. Learned a short time ago that today is the birthday go Richard Upjohn, the Anglo-American architect who was a leader of the Gothic Revival movement. Here is a later design, the 1871 St. John’s Church in Dover, New Jersey. Great design; great pasties, too. . . . . #architecture #richardupjohn #gothic
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No. 21. I came across this little volume a few weeks ago and the hint of spring in today’s temperatures and recent conversations about using our Sullivan County house put it front and center today. Eben Holden, the main character, and the author, Irving Bacheller, @stlawrenceu Class of 1888, are North Country icons. This EH sequel is dedicated to A. Barton Hepburn, a Middlebury man who had the great wisdom to marry a Laurentian woman. We can thank the Hepburns for Hepburn and Dean-Eaton halls. Some choice North Country dialect and pining for Paradise Valley in spring, too boot. . . . . #northcountry #stlawrenceu #stlawrencecounty #stlawrencecountyny #ebenholden (at Mount Kisco)
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It’s two-on-one for a few days! Can’t complain, though, when they pull these kinds of plays. . . . . #thesistersforbes #carolinejaneforbes #babyforbestwo (at Mount Kisco)
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No. 20. Charming alpenglow tonight at HQ. I’m grateful for the year-round show the sky puts on here in northern Westchester. . . . . #sky #cocktailsky (at Mount Kisco)
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No. 19. Look at these magnificent pieces of machinery. These presses — we call them the Mitsus, short for Mitsubishis — give birth to @lohud and some of of our New Jersey papers every night. I love going to Hibernia to check on them and our @dailyrecordnj team. . . . . #print #printisnotdead #therecord #northjersey #lohud #dailyrecord (at Hibernia, New Jersey)
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This @lohud headline tops a story that gathers reaction from parents on a stabbing at New Rochelle High School, which was indeed upsetting. We were talking this morning about how this headline could apply to so many stories of late, as so many people are upset about so many things. . . . . #print #headlines #upset (at NorthJersey.com)
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No. 18. With the Olympics weeks away, I’ve been consumed with memories of my chapter in Lake Placid. Those very happy years are always with me, as are the many characters who call the Olympic Village home. My vow to return stands. Meanwhile, relics like this are a daily reminder of the land I love. . . . . #lakeplacid #olympics #lakeplacid1980 #ronitheraccoon (at Mt Kisco Village)
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No. 17. The River. From the Beekmantown/North Tarrytown/Sleepy Hollow waterfront. There’s a new bridge out there. . . . . #tappanzeebridge (at Hudson Farmer & the Fish)
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Garden State. . . . . #northjersey #northjerseysnow @northjerseynews (at New Jersey)
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No. 16. Julia. Thief of hearts for 11 months today. She has brought tremendous joy in her first year. I adore her. . . . . #babyforbestwo
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No. 15. Mrs. Graham and Mr. Bradlee. Saw “The Post” today. A perfect film for this moment. I was reminded of the weekend Bradlee spent in Canton. The Hill News editorial board had dinner with us and, afterward, he concluded in a letter to President Sullivan that we were both smart and responsible. He signed my copy of “Conversations with Kennedy,” after asking me, “Where the fuck did you find a copy of this, Forbes?” . . . . #newspapers (at Mount Kisco)
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No. 14. We got into town tonight to raise some glasses for my brother-in-law. Cocktails and a good dinner followed. . . . . . #cocktails #manhattan #town (at The Smith)
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Our little place in Sullivan County remains a favorite escape. (at Yulan, New York)
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No. 13. Serenity in January. One of my mother’s favorite views. Six years ago this weekend, we found our retreat here in Yulan a wreck after a plumbing disaster. My father turned into a project manager and a phoenix rose from the ashes. I have so many memories here, in these woods and on that pond. . . . . #yulanny #catskills #delawarevalley
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No.12. Holiday weekend road warrior. My destination: Yulan, New York. My course: Northwest across Jersey to High Point, across the Delaware at Milford, Penn., then over the ridge to Shohola, Penn., and across the Delaware again at Barryville. A foggy Sussex County route with soundtrack by the Dead, Petty and various jazz artists of the mid 20th century. . . . #delawarevalley #yulan #roadtrip
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