In Memoriam -
Warren Ketcham
By Audry Mays
It was the "Best of Times" it was the "Worst of Times"! I
had the privilege of being the caregiver of Warren. He could be
charming, cantankerous and sometimes downright mean. He was a man from a
generation that wasn't prone to sharing his feelings openly. Looking
back over these last several months, I realized that Warren was sharing
his life journey with me. I was so fortunate to have sat and heard about
the history of The Valley. He spoke of Mad River Glen, Sugarbush ski
area, the Bundy Art Gallery, places we take for granted. He was
instrumental in some way as to their existence.
One thing that stands out to me the most, he always acted the
"gentleman." Holding the door, ladies first, he even walked the nurse to
her car after she came to visit him for a weekly assessment. Sometimes,
I wasn't sure who was caring for whom. I kept a daily journal so I
could look back and see the events of the day and the things we'd done
so we could talk about persons, places or things on those long days of
sitting and reminiscing.
I got to know many of you through his eyes and the one thing that stands
out to me, that when he talked about someone, he would say, she was a
fine "lady" or he was a great gentleman. When, we talked he never made a
judgment on anyone. He wasn't a touchy feely kind of guy, but when he
spoke of his wife Mae, his eyes would sparkle and he'd say, she was a
"special woman." Recently, I saw him looking at her, she was sitting
with him and he had that "moonstruck" look of a young man's first love.
It was one of the last times he was able to be with her.
This past year, we spent time with some of his old friends in The
Valley. He was pleased to have seen people at the airport. He loved
going to the hangar and visiting with Jim Parker. We would go to the
Bundy Art Gallery, which he offered to buy me one day! He also gave me
$1,800 for a loaf of bread one day at Mehuron's. I couldn't imagine what
kind of bread they had. I didn't know at the time, but that built
"trust" between us when I used my money to buy the bread. Honesty was
what he admired in anyone.
He would begin each morning by saying, "What are we doing today?" I'd
say, "Whatever you want to do." He would say, "Whatever you say," which I
understand was not how he handled things; he was the one in charge!
We toured The Valley and walked the mountains, the land around his
house. One week we just toured the cemeteries; often we'd go to see the
plot where Mae and he would rest someday and he'd speak of the great
view. When he'd see friends and his memory would fail, he would rely on
me to fill in the blanks and be delighted at recall.
I want to thank all of you who made his last year and one-half so happy.
The women at Mehuron's, especially Peggy, who would ask if she could
give him a hug. He would be flabbergasted but loved it anyway. For Anna
Whiteside, who stopped by and sat on the swing and spoke of their
history in The Valley. For the Odd Fellows, who came and held their
dinners with us to include Warren in their meetings, for the celebration
of John McCone's birthday together with old friends and acquaintances,
for the celebration of Harlow Carpenter's life at the Roth home, he was
so pleased you thought to invite him. It gave us endless hours of
conversation.
For everyone who was friendly and courteous when we went to the library,
town clerks' office, stores, when we were walking (which he did daily
until he first was hospitalized), for Fr. Jim Martin, who he considered
the "nicest guy" who had a presence of peace about him. For my
daughters, Suzie and Liz, along with his oldest son, Warren Jr., who
were with him when he died.
Last of all, for the fine example the children of Mae and Warren Ketcham
have shown to their parents in such a meaningful way. The Mays family
thanks you for allowing us to be part of this journey.
I'll close with sharing my fondest memories of Warren. One day last
summer, we took our bikes to the airport, parked my car and headed east
to the Roxbury Mountain Road. He saw the sign that said 35 miles per
hour and says, "I can do that!" He took off leaving me in the dust! You
can imagine my thoughts, of course, we had to walk back up the hill. Can
you imagine doing that at 91?
The last day I saw him, he was looking for a spat with me because I told
him I was going on vacation. To avoid conflict, I said I was going for a
walk in the driveway. He got dressed in his raincoat, mud boots,
pajamas and his bicycle helmet. He took my hand; we went to the barn. He
made me wait so he could open the door. He fed the cat, said she was a
good old girl, opened the door to the outside and said, "Let in some
light and sunshine." We walked back into the house. Later as I was
leaving, I said, see you soon. He said, "Maybe," nodded and squeezed my
hand. I said take care, love ya. . . .
Thanks, Warren, for the journey!
Audry Mays lives in Moretown.
