| On the porch at The Island Inn, Monhegan ME, 1970 |
To begin, Francis Swett Whiting was a fabulous cook. Her idea of a tuna salad sandwich involved first grilling a filet of fresh tuna, then whisking up some homemade mayonnaise and serving it on melba toast she baked from a loaf of extra-thin Pepperidge Farm white bread.
With that in mind, you can imagine what Christmas was like at her beautiful home in Bedford Village, NY. She got started in mid-September, beginning the long process of making hard sauce for the plum pudding and hand-stringing garlands of popcorn and cranberries for the tree. Fran loved to knit, so each year she created fabulous gifts for her entire family. One year she made cable-knit fisherman's sweaters for five people, myself included.
Besides being very beautiful until the day she died at age 64, Fran was super-smart. Her Smith College education benefitted all who knew her, although she never had a paying job. She won every Scrabble game and finished the daily New York Times crossword puzzle in record time.
She was hysterically funny, with a dry sense of humor that was lost on many. I visited with her a few days before she died of stomach cancer, and she gave me the following instructions: "The day after I die, Lucia Faithfull (widow of her husband's deceased law partner) will come to the door with a casserole for Dick, to console him. She's been hoping for years that I would go first so she could snag him. Don't let her in. And whatever you do, certainly don't eat that casserole -- she's a terrible cook!" Sure enough, Lucia showed up around noon the day after Fran died, casserole in hand. I politely took it from her and said that Dick was resting and not seeing anyone. She left unhappy.
Happy Birthday Fran, wherever you are! I still miss you.
Great story!!
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