Celebrating Dad's 90th Birthday (Cyrus Eaton, Jr.)
To Uncle Cy from Little John,
I have many great memories from Northfield. Uncle Cy, you are my favorite of all uncles. Because I think I had the most interaction and spent the most time with Uncle Cy plus you’re a great guy. I can hear your voice and your great laugh when I think about you.
Here are a few of the incidents, accidents and other great stories I told my kids at night putting them to bed. Uncle Santa....... I played the Piano and sang Rudolph with Santa, Santa was wearing shades. And I remember how I wish Uncle Cy was here to see him too....
Riding in the Troyka on the never ending front lawn.
A few summers 69 & 70. I went to visit with my mom. And always had a great time on the farm. He taught me how to play 8ball on the pool table. We would play for a buck a game. I never thought he was that good. He always seem to have trouble sinking the 8 ball even though he was way ahead.
I was lucky to celebrate a few birthdays in the Chalet (SP?). There are words that conjure up a zillion smiles.......Weather Balloons.....slip and slide....shorthorn.....25 cents a stitch.....metal cigar containers and firecrackers....greased pig......triple rainbows...... Polaroid.......popcorn.......home movies...Nova Scotia.....The Bat.....Fishing contest....Cool shades....all these phases seem harmless enough. But when you hook it up with "My Uncle Cy who once got a giant weather balloon which we filled it up at a gas station two states away and drove with the top down holding on to the balloon you've got a great story......I always felt there was something fun and great to do and he made the simple and everyday occurrences an adventure.
He and your mom always had a plan or activity for all the kids. I always felt lucky to have had that great time in my life. At least that's how I saw it. Love Little John Tobin
FOR UNCLE CY WITH LOVE FROM FARLEY
The Tobin children, Austin, John and I spent portions of many summers at Arrow growing up. We lived there for an entire year 1960-61. Most of those times were with our Mom. In August of 1956 Tobe and I flew out on a airplane alone to spend some time there on our own. Mom stayed home with the new born John. The airline stewardess asked Dad "Who is going to look after these children" Dad answered that "Austin will look after Farley" We were 4 1/2 and 6 years old. I do not remember who met us but were were taken on by Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy with help from Granny.
Mom and John spent some summers there when Tobe and I went to camp in Maine. For all of us Cleveland, Northfield, and Arrow meant home and Uncle Cy.
At the end of a summer day before dinner time when Uncle Cy's car crested the long driveway between the stone steps down from Arrow to the slate of the Chalet steps he would honk his car horn. Uncle Cy's honk indicating he was home filled me with anticipation. After a while Uncle Cy would head down to the chalet. Wearing a short sleeved blue shirt and long city pants he always stopped by the pool to ask questions about my day. Uncle Cy asked questions and wanted to hear the answers. We kids were as interesting to him as anybody else.
I remember going to horse shows to watch the Eaton kids compete. Uncle Cy drove very fast. Somewhere along the way there would be a stop at a "Big Boy" restaurant. We could order whatever we wanted. Once at the horse show Uncle Cy would always give me some money to have in my pocket in case I needed anything during the day. He did not want the change back. I was free to wander off even when small.
I always have loved Uncle Cy. Always. I was afraid of Aunt Mary as a child. If sent up to her blue and yellow and creamy white bedroom for a talk I knew I was in trouble. As I grew up of course I loved Aunt Mary as much as Cy,
Uncle Cy ran all sorts of competitions. When fairly small John Tobin won an art prize for a solid black painting entitled "BLACK SNOW". I only remember winning once while on a deep sea fishing trip in Nova Scotia. I caught the only fish so I won for biggest, smallest, etc.
Uncle Cy once told me that if I ever wore a low cut dress that I should not look down all the time in a self conscious way. If I wore the dress I should behave as if I were comfortable in it. A tidbit I have shared with many a friend and it is true still.
When I was first dating Alton, he had a job interview in Cleveland. I called Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy to ask if they would invite him for drinks. They charmed him and he charmed them. I was not there to hover. Alton did mention that Uncle Cy wanted statistics with the answers to questions he was asking. After Alton asked me to marry him, he later asked both my father and Uncle Cy for their permission.
Uncle Cy was a big part of my Mother's life as well. He teased her when she was a child and may have pushed her into a fish pond behind her house in Cleveland. She retaliated by spraying the inside of his car with a very cheap perfume. The car was actually his Mother’s. Family legend has it that the scent never left the car and it had to be sold. Uncle Cy and Uncle Harvey got Mom drunk on martinis when she was home a summer from college and thought it was hysterical. Years later on a visit to Arrow, Uncle Cy got Mom to smoke pot. She called my brothers stoned and giggling.
I am thankful that Uncle Cy always took pictures. He often had the latest version of some photo gadget. I remember the fixit stick he used to apply over poloroids with great care. After I was born in Cleveland, my first pictures at six weeks were taken by him at Granny's apartment.
The photo albums he has assembled over the years have been enjoyed by me as I would visit in Cleveland. It is a wonderful way to keep up with family and world events.
My brother John has told his children Jacob and Nina "Uncle Cy" stories. From time to time one or the other would say to me "Tell me the Uncle Cy story about......" Sometimes the tale was new to me. Well, we all have our own Uncle Cy stories and have richer lives because of them and of him.
Happy 90th birthday. I love you very much. Far
UNCLE CY FROM SUSAN BARRETT BATCHELOR
I just wanted to send my remembrances of Uncle Cy.
I think what means the most to me about Uncle Cy is that he really loved Harvey. He always defended Harvey, even at times when Harvey may not have deserved it (Especially, around his drinking issues). For example, when Harvey came under justified attack from the Taplins (who understandably wanted to protect Connie,) Uncle Cy supported him.
I also always felt that Uncle Cy and Aunt Mary would always be there for us. I just knew that somehow, and that meant a lot because our household was pretty unstable. I never knew when Mom would succeed with one of her many suicide attempts or if Harvey would not come home from one of his night functions (from which he always returned drunk). I figured Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy would take us in if need be.
I always tell people that I learned how to ask questions from my Uncle Cy. When I was younger, I always dreaded sitting next to him on Thanksgiving or Christmas because I had to answer so many questions. Later, I figured that was Uncle Cy's way of dealing with his shyness...or perhaps he was innately curious.
I remember Uncle Cy always taking the time to ask us what we would like to drink during cocktails. He graciously handed me my bottle of Coke in a way that made me feel special...
I remember Uncle Cy always lying in the sun, sometimes with those plastic eye protector things. I remember him always rubbing his stomach, maybe with a spatula in the other hand, or a bottle of beer...
I remember him carrying Colin or Shantin on his shoulders with such ease.
After his stroke, Uncle Cy never failed to amaze me with his ongoing
graciousness, gentle (often self-deprecating) sense of humor, and his
total lack of self pity.
Forever and always, Uncle Cy always welcomed me into his and Aunt Mary's home with graciousness, warmth, and love. I couldn't ask for more in an uncle.
Love, Susan
To Cy from Joan Page O’Hara
Anyway, I can not believe that Cy will be 90!
My most fondest memories of Stevie and Cy are the many afternoons/dinners that I had with them in the Gates Mills farmland. That spectacular property, the interesting house, the dogs, and the plethora of plants all presented the environment for hot discussions on a wide variety of topics. They always made me feel so much a part of their lives. I think of Stevie often, most recently because I made her Boursin cheese recipe for folks for Christmas. What a mentor she was for me at Hawken. The last time I saw them was at your house in Bedford while Cy was soaking up every available sun's rays. I am sure he continues to enjoy that pastime.
Please give Cy my best wishes and hugs for a terrific birthday and my hope the he is enjoying the west coast. I am jealous.
Joan
January 1, 2008
Memories to write down for Dad’s 90th birthday. Today is the first day of 2008. As I type, I am listening to jazz collected by Ken Burns for his documentary on jazz. Outside we have about 18 inches of snow, and yesterday I went cross country skiing.
Memories, where to start? There are so many. So these will be in no particular order.
Riding.
I remember riding a pony, perhaps Sparky on lead line with you leading us. We were going by the stream on the way to or from the tunnel beneath Route 8, and I couldn’t figure out which leg to squeeze or kick to make my pony move where I wanted him to go. From there you opened the world to us through the wonderful opportunity to ride, to show, to hunt and to travel around the Eastern United States. Horseback riding taught me concentration, discipline, the ability to compete, the ability to lose and to win, and the confidence to get back on after falling off. Thank you for those marvelous opportunities.
Travel:
The first trip I remember you taking me on was to New York City where we stayed in a hotel. I think I was six. I remember making you take me to Times Square and there was a store going out of business. I figured they must have such bargains there. Fifteen years later, the same store was probably still going out of business. I remember making the beds in the morning while you shaved and then staying with Aunt Dibbie, where I was so surprised that she could just walk out the door and down the street to buy a lemon she needed for dinner. You took John on a trip where he drove a barge, you took Cy III skiing, and me to Williamsburg for a C & O meeting. Years later we flew on a Lear Jet; I think you were the pilot and we went straight up quickly.
And then so many more wonderful trips:
Skiing in Mont Gabriel, Lac Beau Port, Vail, Aspen, Ellicottville, Sun Valley. I still have the snow bug, having constructed snowmen with Colin and Marit this winter and continuing the cross country ski adventures that you and I so enjoyed, also daring each other to go down steeper hills. I use your skis some days and my skis other days. You skied 89 days in a row, and I beat your record, skiing 91 days in a row another year. I also remember sweeping snow at Arrow by the drive way so you can ski one day. Do you remember helping me to build a huge snowman in the front yard at Arrow?
Taking the train across country to Denver and California, visiting Yosemite and the Grand Canyon, and driving back. I remember the cigar smoke coming out of Mom’s hood as she was sliding down the banister and I remember hearing about Uncle Timm boosting you up to the window of the motel room because you had forgotten your keys, and it was the wrong room.
Traveling to London to see the musical Hair, to Las Palmas Canary Island where the taxi driver drove faster and faster and where you found some lady’s bikini top, to Gambia to visit Cyrus, to Istanbul where Elizabeth took photos of the belly dancer, to the opening of the Duna where on New Year’s Eve we had a snowball fight after midnight and staying in Bucharest and Budapest. We met up with Nastase and Tiriac.
Traveling on spring vacation to Cairo, where we rode camels in a sandstorm while we visited the pyramids and the Sphinx. We also head to the Valley of the Kings and Queens and saw King Tut’s tomb.
Traveling to Athens where I was too sick to visit the Acropolis and then the wonderful boat trip around the Greek Islands, where we rode on donkeys up a steep hill.
How wonderful it was to drive to see Joan O’Hara on Capital Island where we went sailing and rowing, and then heading on the ferry to Nova Scotia, where I plunged into the cove water, we enjoyed a birthday meal with Uncle Mac, sailed down the cove in his sailboat, and met up with Greta. You fed me lots of crackers so I wouldn’t get car sick.
Meeting Steve and Millie Murphy
After Michael and I decided to get married, you and Mom flew to Boston to meet Michael’s parents. We met at Anthony’s Pier Four before the boat sank in the great blizzard of 1978. We didn’t worried how the two sets of parents would get along because you sat next to Millie and she taught you how to eat a lobster. You and Mom were wonderful to host our wedding at Arrow Cottage. You can imagine my surprise when you returned from Europe and called to tell me you had bought my wedding dress. It was perfect.When Michael and I suggested that we have just have wine and beer, you said that was fine for our guests but that you and Harvey would like martinis and vodka as well. When deciding exactly where to get married, we hiked down to the barn, which you thought would make a marvelous place for the ceremony if it was raining. The lingering smell of cattle, manure, and the possibility of bats swooping overhead made us decide that the chalet was the place. Luckily no rain occurred despite the high 90’s temperatures. How wonderful it was to get married by the pool with the elegant harpist and flutist and the wonderful flowers Mom arranged. Hough Bakery catered the meal, and we had strawberry shortcake to top off steak, corn, and salad. Jim Fawcett made me a wonderful hat with a propeller, using materials from your shorts.
Chess.
You taught us children to play chess. As I recall, you said that you played chess in prison camp. But what I remember more is you teaching Colin and Devon to play chess. I can see you sitting on the floor in the living room in Asheville, North Carolina with Devon and the chess pieces on the board in no particular pattern and Devon making up the rules, just arbitrarily striking and taking men. As he got familiar with the pieces, you began teaching him how they moved. In the beginning you played with your queen, one rook, one knight, one bishop, and half the pawns. As Devon improved, you began adding players until finally he eventually was able to beat you occasionally. When Colin was in 2nd grade and Devon was in kindergarten, they joined a chess club at Colin’s primary school. Soon they were both in the top ten and began playing tournaments. They even competed in big tournament in Charlotte, North Carolina where they had to use timers. When Devon began Massachusetts College of Art, he made a chess set for Colin and another for his best friend, Richard Christensen. It took him over 70 hours to make the set.
Hunting for lions, tigers, and Indians and forts.
At your Gates Mills County Line home, you and Colin built a fort out of a pile of wood on Uncle Harvey’s land while I was in the hospital giving birth to Devon. Up in the loft you and Colin concocted stories. Sometimes the bed in the loft was a raft for cruising down a river. With Shantin, Isaiah, and Colin, you explored the ravine, sometimes skipping stones, other times hunting tigers with spears, or hunting Indians. Perhaps this is why Colin built a trap for tigers in our backyard in Asheville and asked me to call the zoo and have them deliver a tiger, so he could test the trap made of bungee cords and spears. Of course, the boys loved having you tow them in the wagon while you were mowing the lawn. When Colin was a baby, Michael and I often came out and played bridge. I can hear you as you carried Colin around the house, saying good night to all the animals: the fox head above the bar, the wooden ducks on the chest, and the Eskimo carved musk ox. When Colin was five and we were at the family reunion in Tahoe, you taught Colin to ride a bike.
Raking leaves in Asheville
In Asheville, you and Mom raked leaves with the boys in the backyard. Later, we made a huge pile beneath the stone wall, and the boys jumped from first a ladder and then the stop of the wall to land in the pile. Together, we went to an old western town and rode a chair lift, toured the Biltmore Estates and the Grove Park Inn. What wonderful Thanksgivings and Christmases we enjoyed both in Asheville and in Gates Mills. Colin constructed an airplane for you. Then he drew the famous praying mantis, whose legs were on the other side. Devon made for you the illustration of an Indian with all the teeth.
Visiting Moreland Courts
One year you took the boys on rapid transit to the Terminal Tower to see the fireworks. You and I took Shantin, Isaiah, Colin and Devon to the zoo and instead of having two adults and four kids, I kept having to round up all of you lagging behind at the monkey cage or looking at the bears. You and Mom took Colin and Devon to the zoo another time, and Colin asked Mom if she knew she was driving on the sidewalk. You and I took the boys to Geauga Lake amusement park and although you promised to take the boys on the roller coaster, I had to take them. Brave me as I went upside down and caught my glasses before they fell too far. Another time, Mom and you took me, Colin, Devon, and two of Lissy’s kids to Cedar Point. I liked the water rides best, and Mom read the first chapters of my novel. On my fortieth birthday, you and Mom gave me a surprise party at Shaker Lakes and then a few more parties because you can’t celebrate your birthday too often. I so loved visiting you and Mom at Moreland Courts. How we laughed. Remember when Nathaniel set off the fart machine, and we laughed til the tears fell down.
My Self Portrait
How my self portrait was used to torture me. First you took photographs, trying to get me to look like the portrait. Then you put it next to the screamer in the pantry at Moreland Courts and had the boys pantomiming a scream. Then I got you back because I took the portrait to the hospital and told you I would leave it there if you didn’t start using your right hand to pick up carrots. Finally Jim Fawcett really got me by putting the portrait on a canvass with a camouflaged print back and hanging it in the closet in Bedford, NH.
Moving
Yes, I did help you move from Gates Mills, from Moreland Courts, from Kendal. But you arrived in Asheville to help me unpack and then again in Bedford to help me unpack. As you were unpacking the glasses, you found the heavy glass German mug that you escaped with from prison camp.
Family Reunions:
You and Mom hosted the wonderful birthday celebration Stephens reunion for Granny with all her children, their spouses, and the grandchildren at Arrow Cottage. The photographer fell in the pool, I had poison ivy, Shorty pulled us in his cart, and I was in charge of the grandchildren under 10. A reunion I didn’t attend was in Colorado where family went white water rafting. John and Beth organized the family reunion in Tahoe, California, where everyone hiked, biked, sailed, swam, built sand castles, lit fire works, and feasted. Nathaniel made the video of the grandchildren recreating the frog biting you and recreating your escape from prison camp. John and Beth hosted another family reunion at their home, and John organized a wonderful rafting and kayaking trip down the American River. How I loved coming to Gates Mills with my two boys while Elizabeth came with her three children. Then we met in Annapolis to celebrate your 50th anniversary. We played miniature golf, visited the Washington monuments including the Vietnam Wall, walked around Annapolis, and went to the beach on Assateague Island where the wild ponies are and where we got stung by nettles. We all gathered together at Kendal to celebrate Mom. So much love and family. Clearly you and Mom took joy in bringing the family together, and now that continues at yours and Elizabeth’s home in Sebastopol. John brought together Eaton cousins this summer in Pugwash and Deep Cove. Arrow was such a wonderful place for family to come. The Tobins lived at the Guest House. The Barretts were frequent visitors, and Newt drove with us to Florida and across country. Cathy Morley stayed one summer. Julie North and Cy’s friend, Rusty Lincoln, lived at Arrow for a while. Jim Fawcett worked there. What a wondebar place to grow up.
Love, Cathy
For Uncle Cy from Bob LeFevre
Things that come to mind are the woopie cushion I slipped under my mother’s bum at one of the Christmas Eve gatherings at Arrow.
This was probably the same night I had a little extra to drink and confessed to sacrificing my Yale sweat shirt over the chimney at Deep Cove with the result of smoking out your mom and dad and their friends as revenge for them not picking Fox and me up at the airport in Dartmouth(years before the new one and no bridge either). Of course you father was absolutely sure that it was the East wind that was causing the problem. I am sorry I do not have the note they left for us to let us know not to worry if we smelled smoke "It was just the East wind"-
At WRA we used to call this type of a prank a "putz" although I think that word has a different meaning. In any case it rates as my all time favorite prank and I still have this image of the smoke gathering on the ceiling until it had dropped to shoulder height before anyone really gave it much thought.
Hope all is well, look forward to seeing you soon.
love
Bob
Papa’s Memory from Colin
I remember when I was very little being in the Gates Mills house and being fascinated by a fox head that was always mounted on the wall. It seemed to me that it moved, sometimes in one position, sometimes in another. Being much higher than I was tall, I never knew for certain, but it was just one mystery in a home full of them.
The house was sort of magic to me. It sprawled forever, seeming to go on through more rooms than I could count or remember being in before. The patio opened to vast play areas with huge downed trees and endlessly possible forts. The guest bedroom we stayed in reminds me of the story of Toad Hall and lightening storms.
The thing I remember clearest, the one thing that is a true memory and not something I remember from a picture, is the bed in the attic. It was huge, with metal posts and a footboard that was made up of shiny tubes. I don’t remember anything about the room itself, maybe it had a pitched roof, maybe it had a window; but the bed sticks out to me.
Papa and I sat on this bed and it was our doorway to adventure. We played Huck Finn and watched the banks of the Mississippi meander by. The bed was our raft where we could hang over feet over the side and feel the cool damp of the mighty river. Snacks could be packed for the long journey, a lunch of salties and sandwiches, with stolen ice cream to ruin dinner.
Coming back down from the stairs the first thing that greeted us was the fox head. Red fur and black eyes that seemed to know where we had been, and followed us as we left.
Michael’s Memories of Dad
I believe the first time we met was early in the summer of 1976 when I hitchhiked to Cleveland from Brooklyn, NY to see if what the New Yorker magazine said was true- that there was nothing between New York and California but an occasional lake or mountain. And perhaps a wee creature who became She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Since my only real motorized form of transportation was my Triumph motorcycle, guaranteed not to go 1500 miles there and back again, I got a ride out of New York to the nearby PA turnpike from Jackie Donovan in his wee Porsche, hitchhiked to Summit County OH, and called Arrow Cottage for a ride. When Cathy picked me up, I soon learned that some" Cottages" weren't cottages like in New England and some cattle farms weren't cattle farms like in the movies- but I reverted to what I do well and quickly went to the grocery store and package store for supplies for making spaghetti- and beer for the cook.
Upon Cy's return from work in Cleveland that night, his surprise at a long-haired , bare-chested, sun-burned very large person holding court cooking, laughing, and telling tales in HIS kitchen was clear. So he did what he did well and went to the freezer and got out the Stolichnaya. Poor boys form Boston only had Moscow, Sputnik, and maybe Dostoevski as a part of their Russian language skills- but we adapted, improvised, and overcame- until the next morning's foggy start.
Thank Heaven for the pool, for the next 32 plus year's, and for Cy.
He was ridiculously fit and chipper, and I struggled to keep up. Molly Polly's voice was as low as Lauren Bacall's as she claimed that the dastardly bartender had purposely overserved her, and Cathy's hair was either a whirling dervish or I was blinded by the light. Let's take door #2 on that one.
Perhaps we played tennis, or more likely, drank beer by the pool where I was interrogated for many, many hours- with only the hope of more beer or food to keep me going. I believe I cooked that night again, probably on the grill. Some things never change .I love you Cy.
Michael
Dibbie Barrett’s Memories
When I think of Uncle Cy, what I remember and treasure are his qualities of calm and acceptance. He would always listen to what I had to say (as my younger, self-righteous self) without going into judgement or over-reacting. I remember once going off on "business"-this must have the sixties!-and he just listened, curious about why I felt that way, and asked a few clarifying questions.
Asking questions, of course, is one of his gifts, one that I was curious about when I was younger. I wasn't sure what the motive behind all these questions was. Now that I am older and find myself asking lots of questions in social situations, I realize that it is a way of showing sincere interest in the other person and putting them at ease.
Most of all, what I have appreciated about Uncle Cy and Aunt Mary is the way they welcomed us Barrett children into their family.This was a priceless gift that brings tears to my eyes as I write this.
My memory is such that I don't remember much of my childhood. (This isn't middle age; I've always been this way!) But I do remember the feelings. So much joy wells up as I think of the many times we were altogether as family. I was especially touched at the way Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy welcomed Ken into the family. That meant so much to both of us.
I send these memories of Uncle Cy and Aunt Mary with infinite love and gratitude. I know that California is a great place for Uncle Cy to be, but we sure miss him around here!
Cathy, thanks for all you do to keep this family connected!
Much love,
Dibbie
Uncle Cy from Stephen Hume
When I was a kid I used to read newspaper clippings about Uncle Cy in a World War II photo album we had. The clippings said that his plane had been shot down over the water, somewhere in Europe, and that he had died. On the next page were news stories, dated later, that said he had survived. Whenever I saw Uncle Cy at family reunions I thought of those clippings and of his exploits and his bravery. He was, and is, my favorite uncle. I loved seeing him and Aunt Stevie at Deep Cove. When I was older, I remembered the kindnesses he showed my mom when she was in the nursing home in Chester. I remember how much my mom looked up to him and loved him.
Happy Birthday, Uncle Cy
Stephen Hume
Thanksgiving Thoughts: World War II, a Wonderful Uncle, a Wonderful Family
By Newt Barrett | On November 21, 2007
We all have plenty to be thankful for. A recent email from my cousin and very good friend, John Eaton, reminded me how thankful I am for our shared family and for my wonderful 90 year old uncle, Cy Eaton. His story is a great one–and it continues today.
All of us who are of a certain age, probably have family stories about World War II. My father and all of my uncles served in the armed forces during the war. Thankfully, everyone of them survived. My Uncle Cy Eaton almost didn’t make it. In fact, he was first reported dead, shot down in a bomber over Holland. Miraculously, he dove out the bomb bay door just before his plane crashed into the water. Although gravely wounded, he was rescued by a fearless Dutch fisherman. He then wound up in a German Prison Camp.
He was initially reported dead, but two months later word came that he had survived and was in the hands of the Germans. When Uncle Cy talks of his life experiences, every story is tinged with self-deprecating humor. Even when describing prison camp life, he made us laugh. He claims that his escape attempts were the basis for the Great Escape with Steve McQueen. He exaggerates a bit, so we’re not absolutely sure of that. You can read about his story here on a site that tells more personal stories that expand upon the outstanding Ken Burns documentary, War.
What I do know is that he survived to become a global entrepreneur, launching ventures in Eastern Europe, the old Soviet Union, and in China long before those opportunities became obvious. In many ways, he was more visionary than businessman. He foresaw the world in which we live today where former cold war enemies have become major trading partners and some of our staunchest allies.
More than anything else, I think of Uncle Cy as the ultimate uncle. He looked after every family member when we were in need. When my sisters and I were suffering through some awful family stuff, he and my late and beloved Aunt Mary(who at the age of 40 and to the delight of assembled sons, daughters, nieces and nephews slid down the banister of the Fairmount Hotel in San Francisco) took special care of us. As we all grew older Uncle Cy became as much friend as uncle. Although he struggles with the physical challenges from a stroke, he’s still as smart,opinionated, and wryly funny as ever.
I’m so thankful that he lived to father 4 great kids, to do great things, and to be a most incredible Uncle. I’m even more grateful that Uncle Cy is just one of so many wonderful family members with whom we have shared uncountable laughs whatever life threw at us.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone
Newt
I have many great memories from Northfield. Uncle Cy, you are my favorite of all uncles. Because I think I had the most interaction and spent the most time with Uncle Cy plus you’re a great guy. I can hear your voice and your great laugh when I think about you.
Here are a few of the incidents, accidents and other great stories I told my kids at night putting them to bed. Uncle Santa....... I played the Piano and sang Rudolph with Santa, Santa was wearing shades. And I remember how I wish Uncle Cy was here to see him too....
Riding in the Troyka on the never ending front lawn.
A few summers 69 & 70. I went to visit with my mom. And always had a great time on the farm. He taught me how to play 8ball on the pool table. We would play for a buck a game. I never thought he was that good. He always seem to have trouble sinking the 8 ball even though he was way ahead.
I was lucky to celebrate a few birthdays in the Chalet (SP?). There are words that conjure up a zillion smiles.......Weather Balloons.....slip and slide....shorthorn.....25 cents a stitch.....metal cigar containers and firecrackers....greased pig......triple rainbows...... Polaroid.......popcorn.......home movies...Nova Scotia.....The Bat.....Fishing contest....Cool shades....all these phases seem harmless enough. But when you hook it up with "My Uncle Cy who once got a giant weather balloon which we filled it up at a gas station two states away and drove with the top down holding on to the balloon you've got a great story......I always felt there was something fun and great to do and he made the simple and everyday occurrences an adventure.
He and your mom always had a plan or activity for all the kids. I always felt lucky to have had that great time in my life. At least that's how I saw it. Love Little John Tobin
FOR UNCLE CY WITH LOVE FROM FARLEY
The Tobin children, Austin, John and I spent portions of many summers at Arrow growing up. We lived there for an entire year 1960-61. Most of those times were with our Mom. In August of 1956 Tobe and I flew out on a airplane alone to spend some time there on our own. Mom stayed home with the new born John. The airline stewardess asked Dad "Who is going to look after these children" Dad answered that "Austin will look after Farley" We were 4 1/2 and 6 years old. I do not remember who met us but were were taken on by Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy with help from Granny.
Mom and John spent some summers there when Tobe and I went to camp in Maine. For all of us Cleveland, Northfield, and Arrow meant home and Uncle Cy.
At the end of a summer day before dinner time when Uncle Cy's car crested the long driveway between the stone steps down from Arrow to the slate of the Chalet steps he would honk his car horn. Uncle Cy's honk indicating he was home filled me with anticipation. After a while Uncle Cy would head down to the chalet. Wearing a short sleeved blue shirt and long city pants he always stopped by the pool to ask questions about my day. Uncle Cy asked questions and wanted to hear the answers. We kids were as interesting to him as anybody else.
I remember going to horse shows to watch the Eaton kids compete. Uncle Cy drove very fast. Somewhere along the way there would be a stop at a "Big Boy" restaurant. We could order whatever we wanted. Once at the horse show Uncle Cy would always give me some money to have in my pocket in case I needed anything during the day. He did not want the change back. I was free to wander off even when small.
I always have loved Uncle Cy. Always. I was afraid of Aunt Mary as a child. If sent up to her blue and yellow and creamy white bedroom for a talk I knew I was in trouble. As I grew up of course I loved Aunt Mary as much as Cy,
Uncle Cy ran all sorts of competitions. When fairly small John Tobin won an art prize for a solid black painting entitled "BLACK SNOW". I only remember winning once while on a deep sea fishing trip in Nova Scotia. I caught the only fish so I won for biggest, smallest, etc.
Uncle Cy once told me that if I ever wore a low cut dress that I should not look down all the time in a self conscious way. If I wore the dress I should behave as if I were comfortable in it. A tidbit I have shared with many a friend and it is true still.
When I was first dating Alton, he had a job interview in Cleveland. I called Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy to ask if they would invite him for drinks. They charmed him and he charmed them. I was not there to hover. Alton did mention that Uncle Cy wanted statistics with the answers to questions he was asking. After Alton asked me to marry him, he later asked both my father and Uncle Cy for their permission.
Uncle Cy was a big part of my Mother's life as well. He teased her when she was a child and may have pushed her into a fish pond behind her house in Cleveland. She retaliated by spraying the inside of his car with a very cheap perfume. The car was actually his Mother’s. Family legend has it that the scent never left the car and it had to be sold. Uncle Cy and Uncle Harvey got Mom drunk on martinis when she was home a summer from college and thought it was hysterical. Years later on a visit to Arrow, Uncle Cy got Mom to smoke pot. She called my brothers stoned and giggling.
I am thankful that Uncle Cy always took pictures. He often had the latest version of some photo gadget. I remember the fixit stick he used to apply over poloroids with great care. After I was born in Cleveland, my first pictures at six weeks were taken by him at Granny's apartment.
The photo albums he has assembled over the years have been enjoyed by me as I would visit in Cleveland. It is a wonderful way to keep up with family and world events.
My brother John has told his children Jacob and Nina "Uncle Cy" stories. From time to time one or the other would say to me "Tell me the Uncle Cy story about......" Sometimes the tale was new to me. Well, we all have our own Uncle Cy stories and have richer lives because of them and of him.
Happy 90th birthday. I love you very much. Far
UNCLE CY FROM SUSAN BARRETT BATCHELOR
I just wanted to send my remembrances of Uncle Cy.
I think what means the most to me about Uncle Cy is that he really loved Harvey. He always defended Harvey, even at times when Harvey may not have deserved it (Especially, around his drinking issues). For example, when Harvey came under justified attack from the Taplins (who understandably wanted to protect Connie,) Uncle Cy supported him.
I also always felt that Uncle Cy and Aunt Mary would always be there for us. I just knew that somehow, and that meant a lot because our household was pretty unstable. I never knew when Mom would succeed with one of her many suicide attempts or if Harvey would not come home from one of his night functions (from which he always returned drunk). I figured Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy would take us in if need be.
I always tell people that I learned how to ask questions from my Uncle Cy. When I was younger, I always dreaded sitting next to him on Thanksgiving or Christmas because I had to answer so many questions. Later, I figured that was Uncle Cy's way of dealing with his shyness...or perhaps he was innately curious.
I remember Uncle Cy always taking the time to ask us what we would like to drink during cocktails. He graciously handed me my bottle of Coke in a way that made me feel special...
I remember Uncle Cy always lying in the sun, sometimes with those plastic eye protector things. I remember him always rubbing his stomach, maybe with a spatula in the other hand, or a bottle of beer...
I remember him carrying Colin or Shantin on his shoulders with such ease.
After his stroke, Uncle Cy never failed to amaze me with his ongoing
graciousness, gentle (often self-deprecating) sense of humor, and his
total lack of self pity.
Forever and always, Uncle Cy always welcomed me into his and Aunt Mary's home with graciousness, warmth, and love. I couldn't ask for more in an uncle.
Love, Susan
To Cy from Joan Page O’Hara
Anyway, I can not believe that Cy will be 90!
My most fondest memories of Stevie and Cy are the many afternoons/dinners that I had with them in the Gates Mills farmland. That spectacular property, the interesting house, the dogs, and the plethora of plants all presented the environment for hot discussions on a wide variety of topics. They always made me feel so much a part of their lives. I think of Stevie often, most recently because I made her Boursin cheese recipe for folks for Christmas. What a mentor she was for me at Hawken. The last time I saw them was at your house in Bedford while Cy was soaking up every available sun's rays. I am sure he continues to enjoy that pastime.
Please give Cy my best wishes and hugs for a terrific birthday and my hope the he is enjoying the west coast. I am jealous.
Joan
January 1, 2008
Memories to write down for Dad’s 90th birthday. Today is the first day of 2008. As I type, I am listening to jazz collected by Ken Burns for his documentary on jazz. Outside we have about 18 inches of snow, and yesterday I went cross country skiing.
Memories, where to start? There are so many. So these will be in no particular order.
Riding.
I remember riding a pony, perhaps Sparky on lead line with you leading us. We were going by the stream on the way to or from the tunnel beneath Route 8, and I couldn’t figure out which leg to squeeze or kick to make my pony move where I wanted him to go. From there you opened the world to us through the wonderful opportunity to ride, to show, to hunt and to travel around the Eastern United States. Horseback riding taught me concentration, discipline, the ability to compete, the ability to lose and to win, and the confidence to get back on after falling off. Thank you for those marvelous opportunities.
Travel:
The first trip I remember you taking me on was to New York City where we stayed in a hotel. I think I was six. I remember making you take me to Times Square and there was a store going out of business. I figured they must have such bargains there. Fifteen years later, the same store was probably still going out of business. I remember making the beds in the morning while you shaved and then staying with Aunt Dibbie, where I was so surprised that she could just walk out the door and down the street to buy a lemon she needed for dinner. You took John on a trip where he drove a barge, you took Cy III skiing, and me to Williamsburg for a C & O meeting. Years later we flew on a Lear Jet; I think you were the pilot and we went straight up quickly.
And then so many more wonderful trips:
Skiing in Mont Gabriel, Lac Beau Port, Vail, Aspen, Ellicottville, Sun Valley. I still have the snow bug, having constructed snowmen with Colin and Marit this winter and continuing the cross country ski adventures that you and I so enjoyed, also daring each other to go down steeper hills. I use your skis some days and my skis other days. You skied 89 days in a row, and I beat your record, skiing 91 days in a row another year. I also remember sweeping snow at Arrow by the drive way so you can ski one day. Do you remember helping me to build a huge snowman in the front yard at Arrow?
Taking the train across country to Denver and California, visiting Yosemite and the Grand Canyon, and driving back. I remember the cigar smoke coming out of Mom’s hood as she was sliding down the banister and I remember hearing about Uncle Timm boosting you up to the window of the motel room because you had forgotten your keys, and it was the wrong room.
Traveling to London to see the musical Hair, to Las Palmas Canary Island where the taxi driver drove faster and faster and where you found some lady’s bikini top, to Gambia to visit Cyrus, to Istanbul where Elizabeth took photos of the belly dancer, to the opening of the Duna where on New Year’s Eve we had a snowball fight after midnight and staying in Bucharest and Budapest. We met up with Nastase and Tiriac.
Traveling on spring vacation to Cairo, where we rode camels in a sandstorm while we visited the pyramids and the Sphinx. We also head to the Valley of the Kings and Queens and saw King Tut’s tomb.
Traveling to Athens where I was too sick to visit the Acropolis and then the wonderful boat trip around the Greek Islands, where we rode on donkeys up a steep hill.
How wonderful it was to drive to see Joan O’Hara on Capital Island where we went sailing and rowing, and then heading on the ferry to Nova Scotia, where I plunged into the cove water, we enjoyed a birthday meal with Uncle Mac, sailed down the cove in his sailboat, and met up with Greta. You fed me lots of crackers so I wouldn’t get car sick.
Meeting Steve and Millie Murphy
After Michael and I decided to get married, you and Mom flew to Boston to meet Michael’s parents. We met at Anthony’s Pier Four before the boat sank in the great blizzard of 1978. We didn’t worried how the two sets of parents would get along because you sat next to Millie and she taught you how to eat a lobster. You and Mom were wonderful to host our wedding at Arrow Cottage. You can imagine my surprise when you returned from Europe and called to tell me you had bought my wedding dress. It was perfect.When Michael and I suggested that we have just have wine and beer, you said that was fine for our guests but that you and Harvey would like martinis and vodka as well. When deciding exactly where to get married, we hiked down to the barn, which you thought would make a marvelous place for the ceremony if it was raining. The lingering smell of cattle, manure, and the possibility of bats swooping overhead made us decide that the chalet was the place. Luckily no rain occurred despite the high 90’s temperatures. How wonderful it was to get married by the pool with the elegant harpist and flutist and the wonderful flowers Mom arranged. Hough Bakery catered the meal, and we had strawberry shortcake to top off steak, corn, and salad. Jim Fawcett made me a wonderful hat with a propeller, using materials from your shorts.
Chess.
You taught us children to play chess. As I recall, you said that you played chess in prison camp. But what I remember more is you teaching Colin and Devon to play chess. I can see you sitting on the floor in the living room in Asheville, North Carolina with Devon and the chess pieces on the board in no particular pattern and Devon making up the rules, just arbitrarily striking and taking men. As he got familiar with the pieces, you began teaching him how they moved. In the beginning you played with your queen, one rook, one knight, one bishop, and half the pawns. As Devon improved, you began adding players until finally he eventually was able to beat you occasionally. When Colin was in 2nd grade and Devon was in kindergarten, they joined a chess club at Colin’s primary school. Soon they were both in the top ten and began playing tournaments. They even competed in big tournament in Charlotte, North Carolina where they had to use timers. When Devon began Massachusetts College of Art, he made a chess set for Colin and another for his best friend, Richard Christensen. It took him over 70 hours to make the set.
Hunting for lions, tigers, and Indians and forts.
At your Gates Mills County Line home, you and Colin built a fort out of a pile of wood on Uncle Harvey’s land while I was in the hospital giving birth to Devon. Up in the loft you and Colin concocted stories. Sometimes the bed in the loft was a raft for cruising down a river. With Shantin, Isaiah, and Colin, you explored the ravine, sometimes skipping stones, other times hunting tigers with spears, or hunting Indians. Perhaps this is why Colin built a trap for tigers in our backyard in Asheville and asked me to call the zoo and have them deliver a tiger, so he could test the trap made of bungee cords and spears. Of course, the boys loved having you tow them in the wagon while you were mowing the lawn. When Colin was a baby, Michael and I often came out and played bridge. I can hear you as you carried Colin around the house, saying good night to all the animals: the fox head above the bar, the wooden ducks on the chest, and the Eskimo carved musk ox. When Colin was five and we were at the family reunion in Tahoe, you taught Colin to ride a bike.
Raking leaves in Asheville
In Asheville, you and Mom raked leaves with the boys in the backyard. Later, we made a huge pile beneath the stone wall, and the boys jumped from first a ladder and then the stop of the wall to land in the pile. Together, we went to an old western town and rode a chair lift, toured the Biltmore Estates and the Grove Park Inn. What wonderful Thanksgivings and Christmases we enjoyed both in Asheville and in Gates Mills. Colin constructed an airplane for you. Then he drew the famous praying mantis, whose legs were on the other side. Devon made for you the illustration of an Indian with all the teeth.
Visiting Moreland Courts
One year you took the boys on rapid transit to the Terminal Tower to see the fireworks. You and I took Shantin, Isaiah, Colin and Devon to the zoo and instead of having two adults and four kids, I kept having to round up all of you lagging behind at the monkey cage or looking at the bears. You and Mom took Colin and Devon to the zoo another time, and Colin asked Mom if she knew she was driving on the sidewalk. You and I took the boys to Geauga Lake amusement park and although you promised to take the boys on the roller coaster, I had to take them. Brave me as I went upside down and caught my glasses before they fell too far. Another time, Mom and you took me, Colin, Devon, and two of Lissy’s kids to Cedar Point. I liked the water rides best, and Mom read the first chapters of my novel. On my fortieth birthday, you and Mom gave me a surprise party at Shaker Lakes and then a few more parties because you can’t celebrate your birthday too often. I so loved visiting you and Mom at Moreland Courts. How we laughed. Remember when Nathaniel set off the fart machine, and we laughed til the tears fell down.
My Self Portrait
How my self portrait was used to torture me. First you took photographs, trying to get me to look like the portrait. Then you put it next to the screamer in the pantry at Moreland Courts and had the boys pantomiming a scream. Then I got you back because I took the portrait to the hospital and told you I would leave it there if you didn’t start using your right hand to pick up carrots. Finally Jim Fawcett really got me by putting the portrait on a canvass with a camouflaged print back and hanging it in the closet in Bedford, NH.
Moving
Yes, I did help you move from Gates Mills, from Moreland Courts, from Kendal. But you arrived in Asheville to help me unpack and then again in Bedford to help me unpack. As you were unpacking the glasses, you found the heavy glass German mug that you escaped with from prison camp.
Family Reunions:
You and Mom hosted the wonderful birthday celebration Stephens reunion for Granny with all her children, their spouses, and the grandchildren at Arrow Cottage. The photographer fell in the pool, I had poison ivy, Shorty pulled us in his cart, and I was in charge of the grandchildren under 10. A reunion I didn’t attend was in Colorado where family went white water rafting. John and Beth organized the family reunion in Tahoe, California, where everyone hiked, biked, sailed, swam, built sand castles, lit fire works, and feasted. Nathaniel made the video of the grandchildren recreating the frog biting you and recreating your escape from prison camp. John and Beth hosted another family reunion at their home, and John organized a wonderful rafting and kayaking trip down the American River. How I loved coming to Gates Mills with my two boys while Elizabeth came with her three children. Then we met in Annapolis to celebrate your 50th anniversary. We played miniature golf, visited the Washington monuments including the Vietnam Wall, walked around Annapolis, and went to the beach on Assateague Island where the wild ponies are and where we got stung by nettles. We all gathered together at Kendal to celebrate Mom. So much love and family. Clearly you and Mom took joy in bringing the family together, and now that continues at yours and Elizabeth’s home in Sebastopol. John brought together Eaton cousins this summer in Pugwash and Deep Cove. Arrow was such a wonderful place for family to come. The Tobins lived at the Guest House. The Barretts were frequent visitors, and Newt drove with us to Florida and across country. Cathy Morley stayed one summer. Julie North and Cy’s friend, Rusty Lincoln, lived at Arrow for a while. Jim Fawcett worked there. What a wondebar place to grow up.
Love, Cathy
For Uncle Cy from Bob LeFevre
Things that come to mind are the woopie cushion I slipped under my mother’s bum at one of the Christmas Eve gatherings at Arrow.
This was probably the same night I had a little extra to drink and confessed to sacrificing my Yale sweat shirt over the chimney at Deep Cove with the result of smoking out your mom and dad and their friends as revenge for them not picking Fox and me up at the airport in Dartmouth(years before the new one and no bridge either). Of course you father was absolutely sure that it was the East wind that was causing the problem. I am sorry I do not have the note they left for us to let us know not to worry if we smelled smoke "It was just the East wind"-
At WRA we used to call this type of a prank a "putz" although I think that word has a different meaning. In any case it rates as my all time favorite prank and I still have this image of the smoke gathering on the ceiling until it had dropped to shoulder height before anyone really gave it much thought.
Hope all is well, look forward to seeing you soon.
love
Bob
Papa’s Memory from Colin
I remember when I was very little being in the Gates Mills house and being fascinated by a fox head that was always mounted on the wall. It seemed to me that it moved, sometimes in one position, sometimes in another. Being much higher than I was tall, I never knew for certain, but it was just one mystery in a home full of them.
The house was sort of magic to me. It sprawled forever, seeming to go on through more rooms than I could count or remember being in before. The patio opened to vast play areas with huge downed trees and endlessly possible forts. The guest bedroom we stayed in reminds me of the story of Toad Hall and lightening storms.
The thing I remember clearest, the one thing that is a true memory and not something I remember from a picture, is the bed in the attic. It was huge, with metal posts and a footboard that was made up of shiny tubes. I don’t remember anything about the room itself, maybe it had a pitched roof, maybe it had a window; but the bed sticks out to me.
Papa and I sat on this bed and it was our doorway to adventure. We played Huck Finn and watched the banks of the Mississippi meander by. The bed was our raft where we could hang over feet over the side and feel the cool damp of the mighty river. Snacks could be packed for the long journey, a lunch of salties and sandwiches, with stolen ice cream to ruin dinner.
Coming back down from the stairs the first thing that greeted us was the fox head. Red fur and black eyes that seemed to know where we had been, and followed us as we left.
Michael’s Memories of Dad
I believe the first time we met was early in the summer of 1976 when I hitchhiked to Cleveland from Brooklyn, NY to see if what the New Yorker magazine said was true- that there was nothing between New York and California but an occasional lake or mountain. And perhaps a wee creature who became She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Since my only real motorized form of transportation was my Triumph motorcycle, guaranteed not to go 1500 miles there and back again, I got a ride out of New York to the nearby PA turnpike from Jackie Donovan in his wee Porsche, hitchhiked to Summit County OH, and called Arrow Cottage for a ride. When Cathy picked me up, I soon learned that some" Cottages" weren't cottages like in New England and some cattle farms weren't cattle farms like in the movies- but I reverted to what I do well and quickly went to the grocery store and package store for supplies for making spaghetti- and beer for the cook.
Upon Cy's return from work in Cleveland that night, his surprise at a long-haired , bare-chested, sun-burned very large person holding court cooking, laughing, and telling tales in HIS kitchen was clear. So he did what he did well and went to the freezer and got out the Stolichnaya. Poor boys form Boston only had Moscow, Sputnik, and maybe Dostoevski as a part of their Russian language skills- but we adapted, improvised, and overcame- until the next morning's foggy start.
Thank Heaven for the pool, for the next 32 plus year's, and for Cy.
He was ridiculously fit and chipper, and I struggled to keep up. Molly Polly's voice was as low as Lauren Bacall's as she claimed that the dastardly bartender had purposely overserved her, and Cathy's hair was either a whirling dervish or I was blinded by the light. Let's take door #2 on that one.
Perhaps we played tennis, or more likely, drank beer by the pool where I was interrogated for many, many hours- with only the hope of more beer or food to keep me going. I believe I cooked that night again, probably on the grill. Some things never change .I love you Cy.
Michael
Dibbie Barrett’s Memories
When I think of Uncle Cy, what I remember and treasure are his qualities of calm and acceptance. He would always listen to what I had to say (as my younger, self-righteous self) without going into judgement or over-reacting. I remember once going off on "business"-this must have the sixties!-and he just listened, curious about why I felt that way, and asked a few clarifying questions.
Asking questions, of course, is one of his gifts, one that I was curious about when I was younger. I wasn't sure what the motive behind all these questions was. Now that I am older and find myself asking lots of questions in social situations, I realize that it is a way of showing sincere interest in the other person and putting them at ease.
Most of all, what I have appreciated about Uncle Cy and Aunt Mary is the way they welcomed us Barrett children into their family.This was a priceless gift that brings tears to my eyes as I write this.
My memory is such that I don't remember much of my childhood. (This isn't middle age; I've always been this way!) But I do remember the feelings. So much joy wells up as I think of the many times we were altogether as family. I was especially touched at the way Aunt Mary and Uncle Cy welcomed Ken into the family. That meant so much to both of us.
I send these memories of Uncle Cy and Aunt Mary with infinite love and gratitude. I know that California is a great place for Uncle Cy to be, but we sure miss him around here!
Cathy, thanks for all you do to keep this family connected!
Much love,
Dibbie
Uncle Cy from Stephen Hume
When I was a kid I used to read newspaper clippings about Uncle Cy in a World War II photo album we had. The clippings said that his plane had been shot down over the water, somewhere in Europe, and that he had died. On the next page were news stories, dated later, that said he had survived. Whenever I saw Uncle Cy at family reunions I thought of those clippings and of his exploits and his bravery. He was, and is, my favorite uncle. I loved seeing him and Aunt Stevie at Deep Cove. When I was older, I remembered the kindnesses he showed my mom when she was in the nursing home in Chester. I remember how much my mom looked up to him and loved him.
Happy Birthday, Uncle Cy
Stephen Hume
Thanksgiving Thoughts: World War II, a Wonderful Uncle, a Wonderful Family
By Newt Barrett | On November 21, 2007
We all have plenty to be thankful for. A recent email from my cousin and very good friend, John Eaton, reminded me how thankful I am for our shared family and for my wonderful 90 year old uncle, Cy Eaton. His story is a great one–and it continues today.
All of us who are of a certain age, probably have family stories about World War II. My father and all of my uncles served in the armed forces during the war. Thankfully, everyone of them survived. My Uncle Cy Eaton almost didn’t make it. In fact, he was first reported dead, shot down in a bomber over Holland. Miraculously, he dove out the bomb bay door just before his plane crashed into the water. Although gravely wounded, he was rescued by a fearless Dutch fisherman. He then wound up in a German Prison Camp.
He was initially reported dead, but two months later word came that he had survived and was in the hands of the Germans. When Uncle Cy talks of his life experiences, every story is tinged with self-deprecating humor. Even when describing prison camp life, he made us laugh. He claims that his escape attempts were the basis for the Great Escape with Steve McQueen. He exaggerates a bit, so we’re not absolutely sure of that. You can read about his story here on a site that tells more personal stories that expand upon the outstanding Ken Burns documentary, War.
What I do know is that he survived to become a global entrepreneur, launching ventures in Eastern Europe, the old Soviet Union, and in China long before those opportunities became obvious. In many ways, he was more visionary than businessman. He foresaw the world in which we live today where former cold war enemies have become major trading partners and some of our staunchest allies.
More than anything else, I think of Uncle Cy as the ultimate uncle. He looked after every family member when we were in need. When my sisters and I were suffering through some awful family stuff, he and my late and beloved Aunt Mary(who at the age of 40 and to the delight of assembled sons, daughters, nieces and nephews slid down the banister of the Fairmount Hotel in San Francisco) took special care of us. As we all grew older Uncle Cy became as much friend as uncle. Although he struggles with the physical challenges from a stroke, he’s still as smart,opinionated, and wryly funny as ever.
I’m so thankful that he lived to father 4 great kids, to do great things, and to be a most incredible Uncle. I’m even more grateful that Uncle Cy is just one of so many wonderful family members with whom we have shared uncountable laughs whatever life threw at us.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone
Newt