I have known Terry my entire life, as he has been close friends with my parents since years before I was born. He and my dad met at Potomac Boat Club, where my dad rowed after graduation, and they formed part of a tight-knit group, many of them former Georgetown rowers and/or coaches, for the rest of Terry's life. The thing that sticks with me the most about Terry is that he never followed anyone's rules but his own. My parents waffled about whether or not to invite him to their wedding; my dad was adamant about wanting to include his close friend, but my Grammy {who, apparently, controlled the guest list}insisted that he would probably not even come if invited, because he was living in Dallas at the time. I think my mom supported Grammy's decision because she herself had only met Terry a few times. Well, lo and behold, Terry showed up at their wedding, invitationless but not unwelcome in the least. Later on in his life, Terry faced a diagnosis of diabetes, and, rather than change his ways completely, still managed to sneak in the occasional sweet treat that his doctors had prohibited him from enjoying.
The biggest role that Terry played in my life was offering up his beautiful Winnipesaukee lake house to my family, and a broader group of friends, every summer after he purchased the property in the late '80s. I have waxed poetic before about the impact that the Lake has had on me, and so many of my fondest memories would never have come to fruition were it not for Terry's generosity. Terry was the ringleader of the "Lake Family," and so clearly relished in having his friends' children around him. I am certainly lucky to have the incredible father that I have, but I have always felt that, in this Lake family, I have so many other father figures, and Terry was certainly one for me. He doted on us, loving to take us on boat rides to Wolfeboro {and, generally, show off his boating prowess}, take us out to breakfast, make us s'mores and make new purchases for the lake house that enhanced our fun {we never broke him on that water trampoline, though!}.
Some of my favorite memories of Terry include:
- One day, we were all hanging out down on the dock when the ball that Terry's dog was playing with fell in the water. Since he had moved too slowly for a net to make a difference in retrieving it, Terry decided to lean precariously off the dock, with my dad's hand the only thing saving him from falling into the water. Well, eventually my dad realized that he would make a game out of it and let Terry go. Terry's head popped up from underwater and, with the biggest of grins on his face, said, in his thick Maine accent, "I trusted you, Petah!" {translation: Peter for you non-New Englanders}.
- Terry loved to rag on people. It was just the kind of fun-loving guy that he was. One favorite was when, just before Tim's freshman year at Georgetown, he sat Tim down and said, "Timmy, just don't fail out your first semester." Tim always jokes about that because he actually did have a rocky first semester, and, when he graduated, he said something to the effect of, "I guess I proved Terry wrong." On another occasion, my family sat around the living room with Terry and the two other families that we go to the Lake with every year and asked the three boys, Tim, Patrick and Jack, what their names would be if they were girls. Jack and Patrick took the bait, but Tim, clearly uncomfortable, was bothered by the question. Terry knew he had struck gold and continued to give Tim a hard time. Finally, Tim asked Terry what his female name would be, and, without skipping a beat, he said, "Raymona" {his given first name was Raymond}. He was always able to provide comic relief when it was appropriate.
- Terry LOVED his dogs, especially Angus, his German shepherd mix, and Abby, his chow mix. Angus had the most benign personality of any dog I've ever seen, except when Terry mentioned "Buford", a neighbor's dog who Angus had some sort of beef with. Whenever Terry wanted to get Angus riled up, all he had to say was "Buford," and the dog would growl and bare his fangs.
- He was the consummate outdoorsman, which is, perhaps, why New England was the only place that was ever truly "home" to him. I have so many fond memories of hikes with Terry, with him leading the way with one of his dogs. On one particular hike, up Mt. Major, a group of us had peeled off to take the shorter route, and Terry, accompanied by my dad and one of the other guys, attempted to lead them over to one of the other mountains. Needless to say, the group got hopelessly lost, and Terry called his son Ben, who was living in Finland at the time, to describe exactly where they were {not in coordinates, mind you, but by the turns and rock formations that surrounded them} and Ben, who has a similar love of the outdoors, was able to help them navigate down the mountain.
- Terry's favorite beer was Schaeffer, much to the disdain of nearly everyone who he met {Schaeffer, which he pronounced "Schaeffah", is not necessarily a popular beer}. But he loved it so much {maybe it was just to stick it to all of the haters}, but he loved it so much that he named his dog after it.
- The men of the Lake Family always knew that a trip to the Lake meant getting put to work, especially if you had the misfortune of being on the island for Memorial Day or Labor Day weekends. Whether the group was hauling logs from the shallow part of the lake, trimming trees {Terry was fortunate enough to have a friend who, based on his job, had adequate supplies for that task} or putting the floating dock out on the lake, there was always some sort of manual labor involved. We have extensive video of the gang putting the dock out over Memorial Day weekend that never ceases to leave us in stitches. The men paddled the raft out from the beach, and made sure they were well-equipped for their 50-yard journey with a cooler full of Schaeffer and some deck chairs. Needless to say, it ended sloppily, and many members of the group were pushed overboard by Terry.
- One 4th of July weekend, a bunch of us gathered down on the dock to watch Terry's son Ben and his friends set off some fireworks that they had purchased in honor of the occasion. The combination of some poor aim and dry conditions made the fireworks spew in the direction of some trees, catching them on fire. Luckily for all of us, the fire put itself out, and Terry, of course, just dismissed the brush with disaster.
- Perhaps it was his memory or the sheer fact that there were so many of us {one Labor Day weekend, we counted over 40 people on the property, the overwhelming majority of those people sleeping in tents}, but Terry usually had to rattle off three or four names before finally arriving at your name when he tried to address you.
It is strange for me to talk about Terry in the past tense, and I don't see that getting any easier. Terry was someone who loved being surrounded by people, whether that was family or friends. He was one of the friendliest people I have ever met, and I know that I speak for many others when I say that heaven gained a true angel today. My dad was able to visit him yesterday, along with several close family friends and some of Terry's family, and he was so grateful to have had that experience. He was surrounded by some of the people who loved him the most, and I know that's how he would have wanted to go. May his soul rest in peace.
Jim, Terry and my dad during the "Rascal on the Rocks" incident
View from the house that Terry put so much of himself into
Throwback from one of the first Labor Day Weekends at the Lake {Terry is on the left}
Terry and Schaeffah
Left to Right: Ben, Jim, my dad and Peter. This was taken yesterday at Terry's house in Maine, where the guys were started a bonfire, drank some Schaeffer and made a toast to Terry's wonderful life.
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