AN OVERDUE THANK YOU TO MY SISTER . . . . .

Annie:

I have been wanting to thank you for something for many years but never seemed to find the appropriate time to do so. The occasion of your final days as Town Clerk makes this feel like the right time.  Before I do though, a little background is necessary.   

When you announced that you would not be running for re-election, I have to admit it gave me pause for a few days.  It led me to thinking about how the distinguished tenures that you, Mom and Dad had serving in that Office collectively for 60 plus years, has always been a great source of family pride. What I didn’t realize however was just how deep that sense of pride ran until the reality of it coming to an end with the announcement that you would not be running for re-election.  (As a side note, prior to your announcement and without your knowledge of course, your closest associates had already begun strategizing for a re-election campaign and “Click for Clerk” was the early slogan favorite.) 

Over the last several years when the Office of the Town Clerk came up in conversation for one reason or another, I would always say: “my sister Ann is the Clerk.  She succeeded my mother who had been Clerk for 26 years after taking over for my father who had been Clerk for 20 years”.  After doing the quick math, the response was often: “Wow, its amazing that there has been uninterrupted service by your family in that Office for 60 plus years.”  Inevitably, I would walk away from those conversations saying to myself “yes - it is pretty damn amazing”.  The effort, commitment and longevity that you, Mom and Dad brought to that Office for all of those many, many years has forged an undeniable and proud identity for our family with that Office and surely was the seed that grew into the various efforts of public service and volunteerism that we have all put forth at one time or another.

So many of my memories of growing up in our house are directly and indirectly connected to the Office.  For instance, I recall with clarity during many years of my youth waking up before dawn on opening day of fishing season hearing muffled conversations outside and peeking out the window and seeing the silhouettes of small groups of grown men standing in the driveway and on the front steps waiting for Mom or Dad to open the big front door to let them in to get their fishing licenses.  It was a rite of spring in those days that is imprinted in my memory bank.

It was also an annual ritual on that day to look out the window and see Bruno Pulnik lying on the hill at 65 dining on an early breakfast buffet of dandelions and other weed – like delicacies as he nonchalantly waited his turn to come in for some small talk with Mom or Dad while they prepared his fishing license.  Bruno would then pin the license to the outside of his hat which he would wear everyday for the next several months. 

While it may be true that Bruno didn’t have the jaw lines for a Norman Rockwell portrait it was certainly nevertheless a Norman Rockwell moment. 

Come to think of it, maybe Bruno’s dining habits was one of the reasons Daddy never had us fertilize the lawn.

Another clear and fond memory was the day after all the different elections when we would come downstairs to the left over donuts along with the tuna and ham salad sandwiches (always on white, wrapped in white wax paper) that Mom and Dad would get from Uncle Bill’s to feed the poll workers.  I loved seeing that medley of day old donuts in the big square cardboard box with the low sides and the grease spots all over it.  In our world those days – what a treat!  It was also very cool to bring the already made, tightly wrapped tuna sandwiches to school the next day - and the day after that - and the day after that until even Mom would eventually become concerned that the sandwiches were turning into a science project in the fridge and could pose a threat to our health.

Anyway, back to the point of what I am trying to express to you.  When we started to lose Mom, one of the tangible realizations of what she and we were in store was when it became clear that she would have to resign from the Office.  For me personally and I suspect for many others that was the benchmark beginning of the slow and sad journey Mom and we were embarking on.

Those early days of Mom’s illness was a difficult time, with each of us dealing with it in our own personal way.  For me the onset of the illness was symbolized in large part by her inability to carry on in the Office, unable to serve at the high standards that she had set and to which she was accustomed to.  It was a sad and somewhat confusing time during which everything seemed a bit out of balance. 

Then an amazing thing happened!  You stepped up and made the commitment to succeed Mom in the Clerk’s position in a time of need, not just for the Town of Hopkinton but more importantly to me – for all of us.  

For me, your action tempered the sadness and confusion and helped me tremendously in coming to grips with what was happening to Mom.  Suddenly, the balance of things started to tilt back the right way and everything wasn’t going to be totally different and out of whack. 

For me, your action allowed me think clearer and focus more on Mom and what she was going through and not worry as much about how our world, as our family had known it for so long, was changing.

For me, your action brought a measure of order and stability at a difficult time. 

I know that your decision to take on the Town Clerk position at that time was certainly based on a lot of factors.  What I want you to know however is that a collateral effect of your decision to do so, resulted in the purest and simplest form of an older sister helping out a younger brother in a time of need.

That was a gift for which I want to thank you for from the bottom of my heart.

Love, your brother, John