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When Marjorie and her husband Henry first married, they lived with his parents on their dairy farm (the next farm over from this). Some of you have seen a recent black and white photo of that farmhouse in winter - with snow and the mountain across the valley. He worked the farm with his father to take care of their room and board. She taught school to pay the salary of loggers as they worked hard to start their own business and move out on their own. Later they built their first lumber mill run by the power of a local river/stream. They later built another, larger lumber mill (where I later worked) while also running the dairy farm (with help) that went with this farmhouse.
She soon quit teaching to become the mother of seven all the while working alongside her husband in all his endeavors including the dairy farm, the lumber mill, managing Dale Carnegie courses and his service in the Vermont House and later the Vermont Senate.
As she approached 60, she decided she needed to slow down just a bit. That's when her son, my best friend in Boston, George, and I started looking for someone to take her place eventually in the lumber mill's office. We were looking around the small campus of Eastern Nazarene College where George was a Junior and my new bride, Vicki was finishing her senior year (and where Sunshine went to college about 30 years later). After coming up empty, after a few weeks, I joked one day that maybe I should go do it. At the time I was out of college and on the management trainee track for a Boston-area bank. The more we joked about it, the more seriously we considered it. After all, George would be graduating in another year, his plan was to go to medical school at the University of Vermont, in Burlington, an hour away from the lumber mill. You have to consider a plan that includes living near any of your best friends after college is over.
After consulting my bride, I took the job and we moved to Vermont that summer of 1974. We lived there for a little over six years before moving back to the Washington DC area to be closer to our families.
My time with Marjorie was both interesting and influential in my early years of adulthood. This was a woman of faith, understated style, determination and an incredible work ethic. I am thankful to say that she, and the entire Manchester family, treated us like family - not just as employee. Moving away was one of the hardest decisions of my life.
When I moved there, Marjorie still came into the office occasionally to train me and to continue to work part-time. On a typical day she treated me to lunch while I drove her to one of her/our favorite lunch spots. Sometimes her husband Henry, or son Alan who by then was running the mill, would join us for lunch. But most days it was the two of us. Those drives and lunches were some of the most interesting times. She would share what her life was like growing up in Vermont. And she would also share some of the stories of life in nearby, small Vermont towns over the years. You could easily create a Hollywood mini-series from those stories. I am now convinced that every place in the world has the potential for a drama book or series. Life is truly stranger than fiction.
On a related note, of working in a lumber mill, some folk don't like the idea of logging and the need for lumber mills. But I try to remind them that, if done properly, trees are one of the few renewable resources. Henry told me that back in the 1930's Vermont was almost clear cut of trees. Today it is a heavily forested state and yet supports an active logging business, without detriment to Vermont's beauty. It also supports the livelihood of so many Vermonters. And we get the benefits beyond Vermont. At times, their lumber mill has supplied wood for Ethan Allen furniture, stock for piano actions and rails for Mad River Canoes - to name a few. If you ever get a chance to fly in to Burlington, you will be treated to flying over miles and miles of forest - not something you see very often here in the East.
When I first moved there, Marjorie was turning 60. I was 22 at the time and I remember her sharing how young she felt at 60. She recalled remembering how old she thought 60 was when she was younger. Over the years, I remembered her comments and wanted to compare them when I reached 60. Last year I reached 60 - and I feel the same way. I feel like I'm 35 (well maybe 45)...not 60.
Another thing that I admired about her was her quietly helping those in need. Working in the office and spending a lot of time with her, I was in a position to see just some of this help. Most everything I saw, was done anonymously. She and Henry were very hard-working and successful business people. But she and Henry also modeled the responsibility that comes with success. Although I am sure Henry supported her and often suggested people to help, she was the primary person to make this happen. They did not pursue a life of luxury as I often see used to measure success in cities like Washington - where I live.
One of her many projects involved taking one of her granddaughters in for the summer. That summer would be spent mentoring that young woman on some of the finer points of decorating and cleaning a house, cooking and all that goes with managing a home. I imagine managing money and other great advice was part of the summer. It wasn't that their Moms could not and did not do all this. But it was wisdom from another generation and more importantly, real quality time with grandma. It was also an early touch of independence - being away from home for a while - sort of a special, one-on-one summer camp.
One of the benefits of having me in the office was that it allowed Marjorie to go to Montpelier, on occasion, and spend a few days with Henry in his later political career in the state Senate. (someday I need to write a post about Henry and how I consider him one of the few modern Renaissance men I have met)
One of the miracles that Marjorie pulled, that also impressed me, was creating incredible meals out of a small kitchen that would shock most of you. To complicate things, the culture and life of a dairy farm, a lumber mill, a large extended family and many friends, often resulted in more people showing up than one could reasonable expect at any given meal. She never (in my hearing) complained about these last-minute changes. She simply produced and produced from a tiny kitchen.
This photo also reminds me of the warmth and comfort of a good Vermont farmhouse. It doesn't necessarily have designer furniture but it has very good, solid and attractive furniture. How nice to have a beautiful, large cherry hutch in your dining room that was made by Ethan Allen from lumber from your lumber mill. Imagine having an early Fred Swan Vermont painting of a family sugar house on the wall. It is attractive in a Vermont way. And it is comfortable in a way that I can not effectively describe. She entertained in what I would describe as the Vermont way. (being a "flatlander", I am no expert in how others might define that) Think of the most comfortable, welcoming home you have been in.
In the early years of our annual boys trips up for snowmobiling, we stayed in "the farmhouse" with Marjorie, after Henry's death in 1998. The scene you see above was our usual morning scene as we had breakfast and lounged around in one of the many comfortable chairs, enjoying the warmth of a very functional wood stove. We would tease each other about the wisdom of leaving this perfect comfort for the harsh conditions of traveling on a motorized sled at 40-60 MPH in sub-freezing temperatures.
I may have a few facts wrong here but this is the best of my (sometimes poor) memory from over 30 years ago...
I may have a few facts wrong here but this is the best of my (sometimes poor) memory from over 30 years ago...
We joke about a photo being worth a thousand words. This photo brings up thousands in my memory.
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