Remembering Libby Dean's 85th Birthday Party in 2002

The birthday of my beloved, much missed Grandmother, Libby Dean, is 4^th November, and to mark it, I have added another videotape to YouTube, which I will try to include  below.

For her 85^th birthday in 2002, we celebrated by giving her a surprise party, which was particularly surprising for her because it was held two weeks before her birthday on 24^th October.  I was over from England for a visit, so my mother (and dog Party), brother, and his then girlfriend (now wife) Terry came up to Delaware from North Carolina; my Australian cousin Kath came over from California; my pregnant cousin Paige came from Arizona; and a few friends (who were available at short notice) flocked to celebrate with my grandmother.  Sadly, there are only quick glimpses of my cousin Rand, his wife Jen and their baby Lain because they had to leave as soon as I arrived (I won’t take it personally), but happily his mother Lisa features throughout the video. 

If you worry about people hiding behind the furniture and leaping out of the dark shouting ‘surprise!’ at an 85-year-old, even a sturdy youthful one like Libby, we gave her a bit of notice, primarily because it was thought that she would like to be dressed appropriately for her own party, and I think that’s fair and would want the same done for me.  She knew that all the visitors were there; Kath and I were staying in a guest flat in her retirement village, where, as I explained in a clip of the tape that I edited out, we got no sleep because the plumbing sounded like an old man moaning loudly throughout the night.  My mother stayed in the spare room with her Italian Spinone Party, who unlike most animals hated me (and wasn't allowed on the bed) joined by my grandmother’s adored companion Zack, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, as you will hear.  My aunt’s dog was not invited in despite giving my grandmother a watch that she was thrilled to receive, as you will see.

You will hear several mentions of chilli because Grandmommy spent much of the day cooking chilli to feed the masses who had descended upon her, but of course, it was in vain given that my mother and aunt were secretly preparing a buffet for many more guests later.  But we couldn’t let on, and we wanted to keep her occupied in any case.

I had the unenviable task of keeping her out of the house while they put out the food and gave the house a rapid clean.  I initially thought I had the an easier job, but my Grandmother’s patience on our outing waned quickly, particularly as I spent so long wandering ‘round and ‘round the Winterthur gift shop, which bafflingly didn’t have a single chair to offer its surely principally elderly clientele, that we were kicked out when it closed.  I then made her stop the car so I could (very slowly) take pictures of Canada Geese that we passed, and tried to get her to go past her old house in Chadds Ford for the sake of nostalgia and stop at Happy Harry’s so I could get a few things, but she was by then secretly fuming at my unusual thoughtlessness and insisted that we get home to have her chilli.  I thought my mother and aunt would be disappointed that I had failed my mission, but they say on the video (in a part I edited out) that they were quite impressed that I managed to keep her away for so long given her apparent reluctance to do so.  When she arrived to a spotless house with some things rearranged, food out, and her daughters a bit more dressed up than before, they told her that guests would be arriving soon for a party.

Grandmommy & Aunt Ruthie

I pretty much filmed her opening all of her presents, and there are some long somewhat tedious parts (with awful background music—hers, not mine), most of which I cut out, unhappily along with a few bits that I had intended to keep in the final version.  You will see that I also left in some slow points, but principally because I wanted to retain some elements that showed Libby in familiar voice, attitude or quirky behaviour, as I thought you all would enjoy it.

I also left in a segment that does not feature Grandmommy at all but involves my lovely ‘Aunt’ Ruthie, her dear friend who I also miss, as it always makes me smile.  It also makes me hungry for Chile con queso.

Remember that technology was quite different back then, and I was filming with a clunky video camera that didn’t always focus (and is even blurrier owing to the quality loss in uploading to YouTube & as the battery was running low) and which was tougher to monitor, as this was long before one could whip out a smartphone for such now simple tasks.  Despite its faults, I hope you enjoy it.

(For the less computer-savvy of you, you should be able to click on the arrow that appears on the picture below to start the 10-minute video.  Click on the square in the lower right hand corner of the video to stretch it out to fill your screen.  If no picture/video appears below, click on the link at the end of this post, and that should take you there.)

Happy Birthday, Grandmommy.  I hope you and Zach and others are enjoying it in Heaven, perhaps with a toast of vodka (but not for Zack. It was bad enough giving him a pecan!).

Libby Dean's 85th Birthday Party - October 2002

 

This post is really for family, as I thought I would add a snippet of a video filmed during my visit to see Grandmommy (Libby Dean) and her husband Bill back in August 1994.  Lest you forget that that is about 20 years ago, the quality of the video will remind you.  It was before digital, before steadycam, before the camcorders were tiny little things (or phones) that compensated for the lack of light and had microphones that captured the speaker across the room.  And, as you will see, it was before anti-frizz hair products and straighteners were widely available.  Try to ignore all that.

Also, nothing really happens.  It is a dizzying (literally; it was a struggle to pull it together as I kept needing to go lie down or take a motion sickness tablet), jerky rough edit of nauseatingly rapid pans (when in my ex's hands) of nothing going on at all.  But it achieved what I sought to accomplish. It captured a few minutes with dearly loved ones, some of whom very sadly are no longer with us, and others of whom are now almost 20 years older.  It is so dark (in light, not in theme) that you can barely make out what is happening, and one day I might improve that and try to cut out some of the visual noise, but I wanted to post a low resolution file to YouTube today just so I can share it.  It's a late Christmas gift and an early way to ring in the New Year. 

So keep your expectations low because it is not up to the standards one is used to seeing today.  And you really might first want to take a Dramamine.  But some fun things for me are the joy of seeing my great late grandparents' personalities in a typical family setting, my Grandmother's typical thinking that she can add something to a sweatshirt to make it more interesting (as she livened up everything with some paint and talent), my cousin's subtle 'how to smile' demonstration when trying to encourage another beloved late family member to do so, and getting glimpses of the old house.

Watch it if you dare, be patient, and enjoy.

 

 

NB I strongly recommend not watching it in full screen, as I had to lower the resolution, which wasn't great anyway. Also, it freezes for a second after a fuzzy smile episode; bear with it (pun!) as it will sort itself out. If the video doesn't appear above or doesn't work for you, you can watch it on YouTube here:-

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmxxnmyYR1g 

 

I See You in the Mirror

I created this blog solely to provide a transcript of the words said at my Grandmother's memorial service, or the celebration of her life, but thought today that I might just add something else.

This day, 7 April, is one I have marked each year since my father’s death in 2004, as it is his birthday.  I would usually take the day off work and try to do something special—either work on the novel I hope one day to finish that is linked to him, or just sit in a park enjoying nature and thinking of him, or maybe enjoying an art exhibition he might like, or watch a DVD of a film we saw together.  Some small thing as a memorial, to focus my thoughts this day more than all the other days on my beloved father.

Sadly last year, I was off work for that reason and about to go out for the day when I got a terrible call that my beloved grandmother had had a stroke and was not expected to recover.  It turned an already emotional day into an unbearable one as I waited for news, and eventually heard the unthinkable.  There’s no need to eulogise the greatness of this special woman, as many of us have done so below.  But from today on, I will spend every 7 April thinking of both Grandmommy and Daddy, both of whom I loved dearly—still love dearly.

I thankfully have a few brief clips of video footage somewhere that I captured of a reluctant subject in my grandmother in the 1990s and a bit later, but I came across a more accessible (in terms of where it was stored) and more recent clip this morning of her in her 90s. As a memorial today, I have spent part of the day tweaking and uploading this little clip of her talking in a very Libby-ish way—full of fun and delight—and telling me about the tennis she was obsessed with at the time, watching at this stage without her hearing aids until I fetched them for her later.  It makes me smile, as she always did.  The picture quality is lower here than on the original clip, but I thought others might also like to see her in this moment again.  God bless Grandmommy.  I’m sure He’s enjoying her company, in all its feisty delight.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIWJU-B4Ywc

Eric MacGaughey (grandson-in-law, welcoming):-

Good evening, everyone. Please have a seat. My name is Eric MacGaughey, I am husband to Kathryn, granddaughter to Libby. On behalf of the family, I’d like to thank you for attending this evening, and as you’ve walked ‘round you’ll see that most of the family is here tonight, with a few exceptions who are still in far away places such as Australia and Jarkarta.

We are here to celebrate the life of Libby Dean, who has lived a very long and exceptional life. The celebration tonight will start off with the family, who would like to say a few words, after which, if time allows, we’d like to invite those of you in the room here to share a memory, something brief, about Libby. To start things off for the family, I’d like to invite Lisa, daughter of Libby.

Lisa Singer (youngest daughter)

Hi, thanks all for coming. We couldn’t have a better place to have this. No 1 at her favourite museum, and No 2, all drinking and eating and having a good time. I just want to read something:-

First, I will miss my quality time with my mom. She was my best friend. I believe she is where I got my strength—not tonight—my pride, stubbornness, never wanting to bother anyone, humour (I hope), and my desire to help others in learning anything I can help them with. I am glad I did not get her way of driving a car or her fear of flying

These past six months have been rough, losing my brother, Terry, in Australia and now my mom. It was extremely hard for her, too. But having their strength and the rest of my family, Rand, Paige and my sister, Lynn, will keep me functioning properly.

We must all remember my mother lived a beautiful and fulfilling life, the way she wanted to. She did not suffer. We must also remember she was on the way to the bar with her friends, and that is where she wanted to be. She could not have left us in a more efficient way. We must now think that she is above those stars with all the people she once was with and still loves: Pop, Terry and all the others in her past

Tia Cox (eldest granddaughter)

I’m afraid I won’t be so admirably brief, but I’ll try not to send you to sleep. No promises though.

The other week, the actress Elizabeth Taylor died. Now, devastatingly, another Elizabeth Taylor has died, my Grandmother, Elizabeth Taylor Dean. They were both icons, but my grandmother was the Original; she never failed to point out that she was Elizabeth Taylor first, and I think she might get some satisfaction from being Elizabeth Taylor last as well. Whilst Grandmommy was the fair age of 93, I was convinced she would live to be 100, so her death is more of a shock than you might expect. I'd hoped to visit again shortly, and it's been difficult to travel here and find myself gripped with the usual excitement I get coming to this area in anticipation of spending time with this extraordinary character, as she was a joy to be around, and a marvellous companion who found pleasure in little things, and livened up anything dull with a cute way of describing it, always learning and always laughing. She would find fun for us, and every excursion was a joy. It seems inconceivable that she is gone, but her character still permeates so many of these places, particularly here at the Museum.

I've been astonished by the number of terrific thoughts of her that have burst into my head over the past few days, and I hope you'll forgive me if I meander through some of these memories now (I’m afraid there are quite a few so I’ll try to go quickly)….

Libby Dean was a pioneer of several trends that have now become quite common place, such as recycling, bedazzling, and pimping one's ride. If you perhaps wouldn't naturally associate such things with my Grandmother, I'll elaborate a bit.

First, I can tell by looking around the room that many of you watched the MTV programme 'Pimp My Ride', a sort of 'extreme makeover - car edition', where someone's car is customised with unlikely luxuries. Libby Dean started a similar practice long ago, as she wouldn't take delivery of a new car without first having custom stripes--very tastefully--painted down the sides of the car, complete with her initials. Yes, a monogrammed car. And rather than a common Coke can holder by the driver's seat, she had a place for a crystal tumbler, as she would never drive to dinner without a glass of vodka by her side. Well, it was the cocktail hour, after all. And amazingly, she was never done for drink driving—at least not that she told us about—and it was eating a taco that proved to be her undoing in an accident, but that's another story. Certainly, her driving, as my Aunt mentioned, did tend to leave her passengers terrified for their lives, but that was more down to the fact that she seemed to think that you were meant to centre the car over the line that divided the lanes. Fortunately, she had an angel on her shoulder always; that's the only explanation for the safety of all of us passengers over the years, and the fact that she came out of two car accidents very late in life without serious injury. I like to think that she'll now be someone else's guardian angel, which would perfectly suit her giving nature.

Next, I mentioned "bedazzling," or even starting the "extreme makeover--home edition" trend. None of us could have an ordinary lunchbox, coaster, glasses case or even kitchen cupboard handle--such things were too plain for her world. Grandmommy would affix appliqués or paint them until they were unique, adding a special, magical Libby touch. You've seen the impressive quality of her paintings; imagine that on your sweatshirt. With my debutante ball and wedding approaching, I passed to her my insignificant, dull white shoes, and they came back to me covered lavishly in pearls, sequins and lace, something that Cinderella's fairy godmother would envy. If she had worked for a designer, she would have made a fortune, but she was just interested in making the world a prettier place, and she certainly had a flair for it. She was also very practical and could fix anything, so when my deb dress was ripped moments before the ball started, and when my bridesmaid dress was too large and in danger of falling off, she whipped out a needle and thread and made everything better in minutes.

Finally, long before it was trendy to be "green" she was a champion recycler. At every Christmas, she'd stand over us saying, "Oh, that's lovely paper--save that!" so we'd unwrap the gift delicately and hand her the wrap, and indeed the next year, our presents were wrapped in very lovely, but very wrinkled, gift wrap.

But her recycling didn't end there. Rather than tuck away any unwanted gifts, she would attempt to find them a loving home elsewhere, sort of like an SPCA rehoming/rescue centre for gifts. Though she could really have done with a database, because one year she sent me a gift that I’d sent her the year before. But I'm all for recycling, and she was always thoughtful and it's the thought that counts.

She was also tremendously stylish, beautifully presented in bright colours, and a sight to behold. I remember one of her old friends telling me years ago that even if she were wearing a fuchsia outfit, she would even ensure that her contact lenses matched that colour as well.

Another memorable trait was my grandmother's patience and tolerance, whether it was offering encouraging words when I presented her with toads that I had rescued from her swimming pool, or coping quietly when my brother Penn and I confused the strict instructions about avoiding her expensive, unripe crop of green beans, rather than picking every one of them. She was great at allowing me to explore her old barn and enjoy the ancient books and Barbie dolls I found there, and didn't bat an eyelid when I gave the life-sized doll Harriet, who stayed at her house, a haircut that looked like she'd been hit by a nuclear catastrophe and made her prime fodder for a horror film. She simply bought Harriet a wig, and I always wondered if she'd taken Harriet to the store with her to get the proper fit.

Years later, I tried that remarkable patience considerably, when she arranged for the grandson of some friends to take me to the Bachelor's Ball at the Hotel DuPont. But only after he took me first to his parents' house for cocktails, before getting to the Ball and having champagne, before the drinks started with no sign of food, did I realise that it was probably not such a good idea to have starved myself for two days beforehand. The next thing I knew, the ladies' room at the Hotel DuPont had to be evacuated of all the women so that the perfectly nice, respectable date that my grandmother had arranged could come into the ladies' room and pick me up off the floor, then presumably sling me over his shoulder—but I have no memory of this--before carrying me out through the ballroom past many guests who my Grandmother knew well, through the Hotel DuPont before getting me home, where I promptly 'fell asleep' on the floor. When I woke, rather worse for wear, I was terrified about what my grandmother would have to say about the incident. In the end, she just gave me a slight roll of the eye, a quick shake of the head, and then she took me to the theatre.

In doing so, she stood by my side as I faced up to my shame, since the performance was the next day and at the Hotel DuPont as well. She was largely responsible for my adoration of the theatre. I've seen many outstanding legends performing on stage in London, but what I always look back at with the most pride are two productions my grandmother took me to see: I’ve seen Carol Channing in Hello, Dolly! and Yul Brynner in The King and I. Not the original stagings, I hasten to add, but fun ones by her side.

She achieved some fame in her own right, and I know she was proud that her creation with Anne Scarlett of the 'critters, angels and stars’, which adorned the Christmas trees at the museum here for years, also appeared on the covers of Time and Newsweek, when she and other volunteers decorated the Reagans' Christmas tree in the White House, about which she was also interviewed on CBS morning television by Maria Shriver, now Mrs Schwarzenegger, which we watched with pride. She had a critter factory in her old home, a workshop filled year-round with drying teasels and cake tins full of silica gel. The reckless drives with her often involved stopping suddenly on the highway and pulling over because she'd seen just the right bit of Queen Anne's Lace, and she'd cut it and put it in a the tin of silica gel that she always kept in the trunk. During our many trips to Longwood Gardens, if I pointed out some pretty Celosia, she'd mumble that it would make an excellent Santa hat. I'm pleased that that legacy lives on, in the many Christmas decorations I'll hang on my tree each year, and in the book, Critters Angels and Stars, which I believe is still sold in the Museum.

It's hard to be at the Museum without her; our time here was such a huge part of my childhood. I always felt, when she brought me through the employees' entrance and was greeted by everyone we passed, that we must be coming through some secret VIP entrance. She knew that I loved Jamie Wyeth's Pig and was embarrassed by Helga's nudity, but always shared her enormous knowledge with such thorough and fascinating background that it rooted my lifelong love of art. Last time I was here, we toured the NC Wyeth studio and house, and she taught the guide a few things, particularly as she had studied under Carolyn Wyeth.

I also witnessed her discreetly teaching a guide at Winterthur some things that he'd got wrong. That was the time she climbed into a giant bird's nest there so I could photograph her, the same way a grandparent would indulge a toddler. Not long after that, I tested her astonishing patience by keeping her waiting for an absolute age at the Winterthur gift shop, when she uttered no complaints as I made her stop the car repeatedly when we finally left with claims that I was excited to see Canada Geese, or a pretty tree, and must stop to take a closer look. Little did she know that I had been instructed to keep her out of the house while my mother and aunt planned a surprise birthday party, and I really hope she forgave me, but I was amazed at her tolerance.
She certainly thanked me for my gift, and her voice still chides me in my mind every time I procrastinate sending what she taught us was a crucially important thank you note. There's an old copy of Emily Post's book of Etiquette in her house, and I half expected there to be an inscription from the author thanking my Grandmother for ghost-writing it for her. She certainly was an expert on the right thing to do and always kept her family in line.

Indeed, she was absolutely the matriarch, and now our family feels a bit like it's floundering around aimlessly without its centre, its foundation crumbled. I've no idea how we'll manage, but I expect we'll apply the strength we inherited from her and learn to stand strong and weather this and any other storm that comes our way.

We have to look for small mercies here, to take some comfort for ourselves. As my aunt said, I'm grateful that she was with a friend doing something she loved when she collapsed, and she always appreciated her many dear friends. I am glad that she achieved so many things she wanted, even making it to the Chelsea Flower Show in London despite the fear of flying that my aunt mentioned; she produced some gorgeous art; and was surrounded by brilliant friends and family, including at least one furry friend by her side at all times who meant the world to her. We can take comfort from the fact that her fears of losing her beloved companion Zack, the King Charles Cavalier spaniel, did not materialise. And I am just thankful that we were so blessed as to be touched by such an amazing life, and I am so proud to be part of this family that was built on her strong foundation. I take comfort in the fact that, although we are devastated by the void she has left, she is perhaps now in a better place, brightening up Heaven in the same way that everyone here brightened when they first had the joy of meeting this extraordinary woman. Her new peaceful community that I like to imagine welcoming her includes her beloved son Terry, many precious friends including several Golden Retrievers, and not one but two husbands. I'm not really sure how that works, but if anyone could pull it off without acrimony, it's her.

So we are left here with this enormous void, and it seems that a great deal of warmth has just leaked from the universe, and it makes us feel rather numb. But her tremendous presence is very much here and will always be felt, and part of her soul, I think, is hanging beside the impressive paintings in this museum, and in the flowers in the fields--particularly Queen's Anne's Lace and even prickly teasels, which rather match her as she pulled off faux grumpy quite well. Such a robust, feisty, special charming character doesn't simply ebb away. I'm sure you'll find something in your life that will make you think of Libby--perhaps just a fond memory, a flower, a scent on the breeze--her spirit somehow flitting past you. Smile when that happens; it's what she would want. I've no doubt that we'll all benefit from the presence of the redoubtable Libby Dean for many years to come.

Kathryn Irwin (second granddaughter)

Ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto. Obviously, Tia has talked about many things that were so important.…So what I wanted to say was, I grew up—I was born and raised in Australia, I’m Terry’s daughter—and Grandmothers in Australia were all Grannies. They were something quite different from what Grandmommy turned out to be. So I spent 23 years in Australia, and I had this idea of what a Grandmother was, which was this small person in the side of the room that no one really treated as a human being anymore, who baked cookies—I’m not sure—but it was very different, and when I met Libby Dean and started spending more time with her, as I did because I moved and started living in California, I met this person who was contrary to anything that a grandmother, from my Australian experience, was. And what she was to me was: she wasn’t just a grandmother, she was a friend. She was my friend. She was a really good friend.

Every time I came here, we didn’t just bake cookies, we went to the museums. She introduced me to three generations of Wyeth art, which I’m quite taken in by. We went to Hagley and Winterthur and D.C. and New York and the theatre, and I went to painting class with her, where she kicked my ass. She was just so interesting, we would do things like, a couple of years ago when we had an eclipse, we stayed up until 10, 11, 12 at night with cups of Chamomile tea and we watched the eclipse together. Who does that with their Grandmother? That’s your best friend.

And that was the great thing about Libby—she was a great friend. So I always feel privileged to know that my grandmother was not only my grandmother, who is this part of this long line of amazing women—I think you’ll acknowledge that there’s a lot of women in this family, and I really feel sorry for the men in this family—but she’s just incredibly special in that way, to have that kind of relationship, up to 93. That woman was kicking my butt at Sudoku, right to the end.

The only other memory that I’d like to leave you with is, a few years ago my brother, my father, Lisa, and myself were with Grandmommy in Naples in Florida, and she and I were headed to watch the sunset--with Vodka, because it was that hour, and she tripped and fell and she got a bump on her head and it bled, and of course Lisa and I had to spend hours in emergency with her, which was very traumatic for me. And a couple of weeks ago--I have to say I’m very fortunate that my husband’s work has brought him to New York recently so I have spent a lot of time over the past 4-5 months with my Grandmother, which I think is just a very fortunate thing--she and I went to the movies, The King’s Speech, which she’d seen but she didn’t hear it so she wanted to go again and sit closer so she could hear it. And she hit a stand and she fell. And I was like, “Oh my God, on my watch—a second time!”

And I literally remember saying, “Grandmommy, do we have to tell Lisa? She’s going to kill me!” And Grandmommy was saying, “No, no! We’ll get free tickets!”

And we did.

Paige Singer (youngest granddaughter)

I liked to make things for her, so I wrote her a poem:-

Tonic
In the cocktail glass
Her pointer finger twirls ice
The clinking
A cordial of comfort
Drawn up and around, swirls down
Her pallet
And the color of water
with a bright coral lipstick kiss
perches delicately on the edge

Proof
She is still here.

It’s been years
since
The geraniums were deadheaded
since
The brush stroked straight
since
Her hands understood

The tender is tired.

And her loves
Her friends
So many
are missed

She said

"They took her lights down and that makes me so sad."

And my buttermilk men
My baby boy
My sage colors
Wait

And her hands
they understood

Proof
She is happy there.

Rand Singer (youngest grandson)

First and foremost, thanks to everyone for coming. This is what obviously she would have wanted for all of us to do. She’d be quite honestly horrified that we all cancelled our dinner plans to be here for her. She wouldn’t want to be memorialised; she’d want us to be living our lives. But this is where she would want us to be, all her closest friends and family, having a drink in the place that she loved the most, the Brandywine River Museum, so thank you all again for coming.

A quick update--everyone’s been wondering about Zack. After a few touch and go days of missing his mom, and a few days of Vodka ice cube de-tox, and I’m honest about that, he went through a few rough days, but he is doing amazingly. He will live with myself, my wife and these two guys for the remainder. No one knows what that means, but we’ll stick with him as long as it takes.

I also want to thank her entire support staff. I know Anna had to leave, but Bertie and all the girls who just took care of her when we couldn’t. She was just so darn active that nobody could keep up with her. She wanted to go out to dinner and to museums and places and we just couldn’t always do it because we had other commitments, so thank you ladies who took care of her, especially Anna who was with her at the hospital. When we didn’t even know she was there, Anna was with her.

Now for the part that will probably get my eyes a little bit glassy: It’s hard for me to memorialise the death of a woman who really only lived. That’s all she did. She never had one day thinking about dying. She lived every day to the fullest. I was with Gram in the hospital. Unlike the other grandchildren, I get this sort of honour of being the only one that lives in town. So pretty much every emergency room visit, every hospital stay, I’m back and forth to Christiana, St Francis, Wilmington, wherever she wanted to go that day, I happened to go. So I was with her that night by her side and the next morning when she passed. She never wanted to bother any of us with anything at all. She waited for her daughters to get into town, she waited for Jen to fix her hair one last time, and 10 minutes later, she was gone. No burden whatsoever, not one second of need.

I’ve already forgotten the details of those hours because it’s so easy to reflect on the amazing memories that I have of her, and I will carry those memories forever. I have two quick stories to sum up how she lived, and they’re very poignant because they’re within the last two weeks. And I can say honestly none of us thought she was ever going to die, and that was a good thing. We all just wanted her to go strong forever. I called her Saturday afternoon about three weeks ago when my family was in Florida with my Dad, and I asked her if I could take her on a date. And her answer was, “No, I can’t. I’m going to get shad roe with Marnie.” I might be the only man in the room who can say he was turned down by a 93-year-old woman, and you might think that devastates me, but truthfully, I was used it. The biggest smile came across my face knowing that I had to get in line like everybody else if I wanted to see her. How dare I call her last minute and think she was pining away, spending the last days of her life waiting for someone to take her to dinner. That was never the case, and I knew better.

The next story comes from the day she passed. I sat by her side kind of by myself like I usually do ‘cause, you know, no one’s ever in town. The doctors had already come to me and basically told me that there was no chance for recovery and that we should get everyone here as soon as we could to say good-bye. But I couldn’t bring myself to tears, and I couldn’t figure out why. I just sort of sat there in a daze and I really had nothing flowing.

The night nurse came in and asked me if there was anything I needed, and I said no, but I sort of just wanted to know some details of what had happened because none of us were with her. She didn’t give anybody our cell phones—again, she didn’t want anybody to burden us. I asked if she had any details, and I hadn’t talked to Anna at this point so I was in the dark as to what had really happened. She told me she would check but that usually they didn’t have a paramedic’s report for a few days. She came back about five minutes later and all she said was that there was a quick little note in the report and she didn’t think it was anything serious but she figured she would pass it on to me. She said all it said was that Mrs Dean was on her way to have dinner and drinks with friends when she collapsed. And the nurse must have thought I was nuts because that was sort of the first time that I broke down. It took me remembering how she lived, not how she died, to start my tears. And that’s sort of how I’ll remember her forever—how she lived, even though I was with her when she died. I won’t remember that at all.

Lain has something quick to say….

Lain Singer (great-grandson)

Hi. My name is Lain Singer. I am Gram’s great-grandson. Gram was very special to me and I loved her very much. She taught me how to make critters. I made a Rudolph Red-nosed Reindeer and I’d like to dedicate it to the River Museum in her memory. I am going to keep making all sorts of new critters and teach young people how to make them to keep her memory and tradition alive. Thank you.

Lynn Cox (eldest daughter)

Hi. Thank you all for coming, and I hope I can get through this. I tried to think of some things that I remembered about her that hadn’t been said.

One was when we were younger, she drove us to Tower Hill School in the morning in her negligée. She didn’t have a flannel bathrobe on top of it. And one morning, the worst happened: she got pulled over by a cop. We were humiliated.

The other thing we learned from her, and she taught it to my family and my children, was she would go to a grocery store and she would buy a jar of marshmallow whip or a whole cheesecake and we’d eat it that night. She also taught us that birthday cakes had that row of frosting along the bottom so you could take your finger around it and eat it. My children said when their father remarried somebody else that they didn’t realise that when you got a coffee cake, you didn’t cut it into thirds or fourths and eat the whole thing, but cut it into little slices that kept it going for days. That’s from my mother. Also when we were young, we had to eat everything, but we could ‘take’ one thing that we didn’t have to eat. I fluctuated between liver and sweetbreads; sweetbreads usually won out. If I took sweetbreads, then we started having liver more often, so I learned to swallow sweetbreads whole without chewing them, which has come in very handy when trying to swallow pills and things like that without water.

Another thing we remember is her swimming method. In the swimming pool, she did sidestroke with her head like this and she never got her hair wet. She was also very thrifty, which we learned from her. If she cooked oatmeal for breakfast, sometimes it had little bugs in it. We were allowed to pick them out but we had to eat the oatmeal anyway. One time a piece of peppermint candy fell into the green beans that we were supposed to have for dinner, and so we did have peppermint-flavoured green beans.

She taught me the rules about alcoholic beverages. I learned never to drink before five except on weekends and holidays, and then we could do it earlier, like at lunch. She also taught me never to drink alone. It was okay over the telephone, but she said that you couldn’t drink alone until you were 40, and after 40, it was okay. Nobody understood why I looked forward to my 40th birthday.

In recent years, she had diabetes. She and I used to go to Florida and sit in front of the TV and eat a huge box of meringues together, and I had a feeling that that didn’t stop. I was up visiting her and I opened the cabinet underneath her bathroom sink and there was a thing of meringues. And I knew she wouldn’t have enough nerve to confront me so I just would eat as many meringues as I wanted to and she never would mention what happened to the meringues.

Driving---you’ve heard some things about driving and some of you have been fortunate enough to ride with her and survive. As Tia said, she had an angel riding with her. When she had The Taco Bell Incident, she had gotten some tacos and was crossing the three southbound lanes on 202 trying to make an immediate right turn while eating a taco, which she denied doing. However, she asked me to go pick up the stuff left in her totalled car and the man told me he found half a taco on the windshield. So I came home and I said, "Mother, how come he found half a taco stuck on the windshield if you weren’t eating tacos while you were driving?" She didn’t bat an eyelid and said, "It must have been the cops."

She was an amazing person. It’s hard to believe that I can’t call her up and say, “Mother, I can’t remember what that plant was”--the botanical name. I’d describe it to her and she’d come up with it immediately. Now I have to go to my books, I guess.

She was an amazing mother, an amazing woman and the first Elizabeth Taylor who lived her life to the fullest.

Donna Gormel (friend from the Brandywine River Museum)

Now a little bit from Libby’s Brandywine family. My name is Donna Gormel and I’m the co-ordinator of the volunteer programme here at the Brandywine conservancy. I have known, worked with and greatly admired Libby Dean for 29 years. No matter what activity she was here to do, she always looked great. Everything perfectly matched, right down to the watch and the shoes.

When Lisa called me last week to let us know that Libby had passed, she asked also if there was a chance that we could have her memorial service here, and we were honoured to be asked and thankful that our schedule was open to be able to accommodate her request. When Lisa and I talked about what time we should gather today, she said, “Oh my goodness, it has to be cocktail hour. My mother would have it no other way!” So here we are honouring our dear friend during the cocktail hour.

Libby was a guiding light here at the Brandywine. She is so much a part of our history, and we are so grateful for the 40 years that she volunteered here. It’s hard for me to mention Libby without mentioning two other friends and two other volunteers: Ruth Bishop and Anne Scarlett. They were quite a threesome and lifelong friends. Between the three of them, they added greatly to our programmes and our organisations, and we are always and always will be grateful to all of them.

Libby planted so many seeds here, and I often told her we were just watering them, we were just keeping things going. She was very humble. She’d wave her hands and, twinkle in her eye, just say, “Oh, it wasn’t much. It was a lot of fun.” And I was glad to hear that it was a lot of fun, but it was a lot of hard work, too. I know everybody in this room knows about critters. Libby and Anne started the critter programme in the early 70s, they wrote our first book Critters, Angels and Stars, and today 130-plus volunteers make critters nearly year-round. Now I should say 131 because Lain is our youngest member of the crew. Thank you.

If it was Monday, Libby was coming in these back doors, driving up here--it was the backing-up that we worried about--carrying an armload of fresh flowers that she cut from her Nine Gates home garden to do a full pedestal arrangement in the lobby. She did this from mid-April until frost, once a week for decades. We continue this and whenever we are down in the kitchen doing flowers, we are going to be thinking about Libby without a doubt. There were a few occasions—not often—but when it was really hot, I had the privilege of having Zack in my office because Libby didn’t want to leave him in the car. So I got to attend to Zack and have fun with him while she continued her magic. Truly, so much of what we do here and continue to do here is because of her ideas, her creativity, her enthusiasm, her determination and her talent. She was one of a kind.

There are so many things to admire about Libby. One was her passion to learn. Each time the galleries would change, she and Dotty McGovern would come down and go through the galleries, check all those flower arrangements and have lunch. She loved the Spring, this time of new beginnings. And just a few years ago, she worked with Mark Gormel, our staff horticulturist, to have a dogwood planted on the grounds of the museum near the Weymouth building. She said “I don’t want to be gone and have it planted then; I want to have it done now so I can enjoy it when I’m here.” The tree is thriving; it is a beautiful tree, it’s in full bud, ready to explode into bloom, and I know that she would love that, as we loved her.

I’ll close this evening by sharing with you a very short verse that was written by Henry Scott-Holland:-

I have just slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we still are
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used….
Play, smile, and think of me….
All is well.

Thank you.

[The popular verse is an extract from “Death is Nothing at All,” part of a sermon called “Death the King of Terrors” delivered by Canon Henry Scott-Holland, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral, in the Cathedral on Whitsunday 1910 while the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster. –TC http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Scott_Holland ]

Jim Duff (friend, Executive Director of the Brandywine River Museum)

Libby was a great friend to all of us and she had many wonderful traits, the humour that’s been talked about. But one particular trait I admired, I think was so important, and that is that Libby never seemed to hesitate to tell you what was on her mind. In fact, as she seldom failed to let you know what she thought you ought to do, I suspect that everyone of us here had benefited from that trait in Libby Dean. I certainly listened whenever she was around. We had her advice and we sought her advice. I know that I would not have done many things that I’ve done here without Libby. When she said to me, I think repeatedly, often enough, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but here’s what you should probably do now.” And very, very often, that’s exactly what we did.

She changed my life, she changed my work here, always for the better. We have even hired people here because Libby said “You ought to look at that person; that’s somebody who you ought to be working with.” We paid attention to what she said because we were wise, and she was wise. We were wise simply because we followed that lead. She had an enormous twinkle in her eye. I think that’s why we sought her out--it was one of the reasons, at least, we sought her out. You remember that twinkle. In fact, we read and hear all the time about people with a twinkle in their eye. I think you’d agree with me that no one in this world ever had a greater twinkle than Libby did. And so we looked to her. Three weeks ago, she was in the shop and I saw her walking towards the museum book store. I saw that twinkle from a distance and so I went over and walked with her across the lobby and chatted with her, and we got to the elevator, and she wanted to go somewhere else so she very kindly let me know that it was time for me to go. And so I went. And now she’s gone.

Except that that twinkle is here for all of us who were privileged to work with her, to know her and to love her. That twinkle is here in this room, it’s in the hallways over there, and it will be with us for years and years to come in all of the galleries upstairs.

Amy Bishop Dewey (family friend, standing with her sister Carrie)

Good evening. I’m Amy Bishop Dewey and this is my sister Carrie Bishop Zimmerman. We are Ruth Bishop’s daughters, and we are By and Tim Bishop’s sisters.

Aunt Libby, for that is always who she has been to us, has been a presence in our lives for as long as I can remember. Mother and Aunt Libby had connections to each other that long preceded my knowledge and even my existence, going back before the war. They were long time cohorts in the Junior League and the Wilmington Flower Market. They were two of a group of good friends who created the Wednesday Club, a lunch bunch, which by the way met on Mondays. Aunt Libby was the creative force behind the Craft Show at the Church of the Advent Mayfair.

Mother and Aunt Libby became part of the permanent collection of the Brandywine River Museum as they waited by the gate to be among the first to guide upon its opening in 1971. They were on the ground floor as much of the museum took on that has made it a landmark in Chester County and the nation: the antique show, the Christmas exhibits, just to name a few. They decorated the White House Christmas tree in 1984, with the critters that Aunt Libby and others had created. The rest, as they say, is history. I spent untold hours knocking about the Deans’ house, hanging out with Carrie and Lisa, playing in the barn and the boxwood garden, lounging on any one of her wonderful Golden Retrievers, and generally feeling comfortable and happy to be around her. I have been in awe of the adoring friendship mother shared with Aunt Libby. They were peas in a pod. They were fortunate to have had one another.

I know that I am, and I am sure you all are, better for having had Libby Dean as a friend. Thank you for making it possible to honour such a wonderful woman in a place that she loved so much.

Carrie Bishop Zimmerman (family friend)

I would just like to add that my brother Tim refers to Aunt Libby as "‘the Energiser bunny." And I am proud to say that I have one of Aunt Libby’s lunchbox pocketbooks.

Isabel McDermott

My name is Isabelle McDermott and I was Libby’s next door neighbour at Stonegates. There’s a story I’d like to share with you. I didn’t know her when she moved in; she didn’t know me. But there was a knock on my door. She came in, introduced herself and she said, “I want to see your sunroom.” I took her out to the sunroom and she said, “The reason I want to see it is I’m planting a dogwood in the back of my house and I wanted to make sure that you could see it from your sunroom.”

Typical. Typical Libby.

Jenny Grindin (friend)

I’m Jenny Grindin. Libby Dean was a decent friend, a wonderful person. We were fortunate to spend just two weeks ago tonight, having dinner with her and her wonderful friend Ginny Morgan, who was celebrating her 91st birthday, and we were talking about Libby’s next birthday coming in November. But she was our dear friend in a little different way than you’ve all been talking; she was with us down in Florida, so we’ve known her for almost 20 years and we developed a wonderful, wonderful friendship, so I just want to share a fun story with you.

She used to come to Maine. She came with Ginny one time to spend a week with us, and Ginny went along with her friends, so we decided we’d think up all these things Libby would love. One of the things was we took her to the Farnsworth Museum. Now we’re down in Wells Beach, Maine….and we couldn’t keep up with Libby—I’m sure you all felt the same way—and I was much younger. Anyway, we went…to the Farnsworth Museum and instead of anybody there giving us a guided tour, Libby did. She kept looking for Jamie Wyeth because he is there quite often painting, but she gave us a lesson on an illustrator who had taught N C Wyeth how to illustrate. She was looking at Andrew’s different paintings and had to ask someone who a little girl aged about 13 in a painting was, but learned that the girl’s father was always present when it happened. So now we’re outside having lunch and one of the ladies who was impressed, of course, by Libby, said we’re going to have a lecture at the Olson Farm on Cushing Island at 2pm. It was a gorgeous summer day and I asked whether she’d like to go to Cushing Island; we were going to go to Mount Blue in Camden to look over the scenery of a beautiful area. She said we should go to Mount Blue because she’d love to see that scenery….so we did, but then I said there was time to hit Cushing Island, and off we went.

If you’ve never been, you should go. Christina’s World, the farm, looks exactly like it’s painted. So Libby wasn’t satisfied just to look; she wanted to know much more about the whole business there. Down on a hill where you see Christina crawling up, there’s the family Olson cemetery, and Christina’s there with many other people. I said to Libby, who was about 85 or older so couldn’t walk down the hill, why don’t I go down and find out what’s going on down there where there were a lot of people, all Japanese. I spoke to this gentleman who was talking to everyone like we do ‘Down East’ and he said his name was John Olson and Christina was his aunt…..he said he was the last of the Olsons.

So I said there’s a lady up the hill who’d love to meet you….so up the hill he came and said he was 80 years old, and Libby said she was also in her 80s. She said, do you know the Wyeths? And he said of course he did, he was just at a party at the house this weekend…for Betsy’s birthday, who was Andrew’s wife. So she said, “I bet it was a bash” and he said “they always are and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” Libby asked if he’d met Andrew over there, and he said Andrew used to come over all the time because that’s when he was courting Betsy. Betsy was a friend of the Olsons and she’d be over there and so Andrew would really come over to get a look at and be with Betsy, so he had free reign to come into the house and paint anything he wanted at any time he wanted. So there are quite a few of Andrew Wyeth’s paintings depicting that whole area and the house there, and they all have an island nearby….

So anyway, it was a wonderful day, and really she said it was an unforgettable time. And what really made it truly unforgettable was at the end, we went to this very special restaurant where you could have all the lobster you wanted, and Libby loved that. So anyway, we have wonderful, as yourself, grateful memories of our dear, dear friend Libby Dean.

Closing by Eric MacGaughey

So with that, we’d like to end this celebration of the life of Libby Dean, friend, grandmother, great-grandmother, mother and wonderful person who everyone in this room will miss greatly. Once again, thank you for coming this evening. Please continue to share memories of Libby and enjoy the rest of your evening.