Lydia Franz

Yesterday Lydia's ashes were scattered in the ocean in front of her house. It was a remarkable day that began at the Herring Gut Learning Center in Port Clyde, where her daughter gave a wonderful speech and in Lydia's name the staff dedicated a bench overlooking the harbor. She passionately believed in education, the ocean, Maine, the environment, and the Center - a splendid vision for someone who spent her life in real estate at the national level. At noon we all returned to Owls Head. She and Kathleen and Harriet had moved into the house next door to us around 1998, from high-powered jobs in Chicago, and settled into Maine life with respect and enthusiasm. She was ill for much of the time she lived here, and with our limited vacation time and her sickness, we never got to know her well. But after yesterday, I felt I did, because of the dignity of the memorial celebration, and the unplanned, almost glorious, things that happened. As part of the service, Kathleen took Lydia's ashes aboard a boat as the congregation (I use church words here to describe the power of these moments, even though there was nothing religious whatsoever here) waited some 15 or 2o minutes on the lawn and the decks. We gazed out to sea in reverence, at the islands, the surf, the fog in the bay. The boat rounded Ginn Point and skirted Little Island and cut its engine in front of the house. Two trumpeters, one in the boat and one on the deck, played "Taps" as a round, three times, answering and blending with each other across the water. And then something else started contributing. The sun broke through the fog, lighting the white lobster boat like a chalice. An osprey flew over our heads. Two sea gulls called out their own "Taps" down on the shore. And just as Kathleen was finished emptying the urn, a jet flew low overhead. It was as if nature and man combined to honor this paragon of a woman: her sunny, indomitable disposition, even through the thrice-weekly dialysis and the weakness and pain; her love of the wild things of Maine; her proficiency at piano and love of music; and the loud machine overhead honoring her high-level crytography work in World War II.
I learned a lot yesterday about how to conduct one's life, how to celebrate its conclusion, and how to inspire those who remain behind.