Eulogy for my Aunt, First Church of Round Hill, September 9, 2010

Good morning to everyone as we celebrate and say goodbye to Nancy Tyner Gagarin. Aunt Nannie was my mother's younger sister. Her brother, John Tyner, was my uncle and godfather. These three Tyners, their parents and my cousins have all been pivotal in my life.

A few weeks before Aunt Nannie died I came to visit for two perfect days and nights. The first night, as we ate lobster from Chatham and drank wine I looked over at her and even with all she was going through she looked beautiful and happy. The next day we looked through old albums dating back to the 30's when my grandparents bought the big house in Chatham. Aunt Nannie remembered every detail, date and name. She was always like that and we shared a passion for all things Chatham.

This is what I want to talk about this morning. As best I can piece together, when Aunt Nannie was a child she had petite mall, a mild form of epilepsy. My grandmother being a Christian Scientist of sorts and being at a loss for how to handle her youngest child's illness sent her to Chatham with a nurse from the age of 10 to 12. She lived in the little cottage my grandparents built with her nurse Ms. Hicks. She had a horse which she kept at Eldredge's garage. On it she explored all the nooks and crannies of a virtually undiscovered Chatham.

Those years, living apart from her family couldn't have been easy but I think it gave her something so profound it cannot be described. Her childhood friend Boo Weller told me

" Nannie had a depth of feeling for the Cape your mother and I couldn't touch. "

The beloved big house, known as Riptide, the two cottages and the garage are no longer in the family but the memories are and that is what Aunt Nannie and I shared. We were both obsessed with Gammie and Gampie's legacy. We referred to it lovingly as the big house. Aunt Nannie was the one I would turn to for questions about that fabulous bygone era. She would tell me " Oh Robbie, I dream about walking through the rooms exactly as they were and I can smell the smells. It's as though I was there again." She told me things no one else could and I was like a sponge. On our last visit she told me the names of her childhood dogs. She would tell me things in an excited, almost breathless way that I loved to hear. "Your grandfather could charm the birds out of the trees. Your grandmother was cozy and funny and dear. Your great grandmother didn't like drinking and tried to keep the Tyner brothers apart."

The other night I looked through old family photos. My mum and Aunt Nannie, lying on the deck of my grandparents sailboat at 14 and 16 years old, feet touching. In these albums I see her love; for my grandparents, for my Uncle John and my mother. Her love for Uncle Peter was something out of a love story and her love for her children, grandchildren and friends.

Honestly, it was her love of her dogs that took the prize. In those old photos she was always petting a dog. Dirk the bull terrier,Happy Hooligan, Baffie or Dash. If it is true that all dogs go to heaven she is in good company. But they are in the best company of all. Our beloved Nancy Tyner Gagarin, we will live you forever.

Nannie's sunset

On the morning of Sunday August 29th my beloved Aunt Nannie died. It was a beautiful day. She died peacefully at home surrounded by her family.

Early that evening I made my way to Tyner's bluff to watch the day end and say goodbye to the last of the Chatham Tyner's. As the day ended, her last day, the light was magic. I wrote as I watched the last light fade.

The waves lap against the sea wall .

The gulls cry.

A cormorant floats on the ocean of blues and greens.

The last fishing boat comes in.

Day turns to night.

A grey seal glides by.

Another one pops it's head up and looks at me.

Nature plays her song.

I dedicate it to Aunt Nannie.

A day in the life of a fisherman

Sometimes I ride my bike down to the fish pier and watch the early morning unfold. One boat is pulling in nets, another is replacing the bow windows. Cutting the glass to the exact shape of a curved window takes the skill of two. The two fisherman and a third casual interloper consult over how to cut the glass so it doesn't crack. A tremendous amount of teamwork is involved in the life of a fisherman/woman. They depend on each other for all the mundane details of keeping their boat running. They depend on each other to stay alive in extreme seas.

The sounds and smells here are an elixir; the banter and laughter of the fisherman, the cry of gulls, music from a nearby boat and the ocean roar from the outer bar. It has taken close to 45 minutes to cut one window. now there is a second one. The ocean spray eats away at the windows and they need to be replaced every two years.

On the other boat two fisherman pull in endless feet of nets. They are untangling and cleaning nets, many of which have hooks in them. The fish they catch with these nets are mostly monk, skate and dogfish. Destination; China, Japan, France, England, " all over the place."

As I watch these fisherman I am in awe. It is hard work but I think most of them love what they do. They have a profound connection to the sea. They also have a connection to anyone who loves and eats fish. They put food on our tables and for that we should give thanks.

Light

Sometimes I feel like I chase the light the way a dog chases it's tail. It's exhausting. It's thrilling. When I open my eyes and see that clear light on the wall I know what I have to do. It is early September and the light on the Cape is especially magic in the fall. Feed the dogs, swill down the coffee, load the bike into the car, grab my leather camera bag and off I go. Destination unknown.

A symphony of love and nature

I cannot let the sheer magic of last night with my beloved boys pass without trying to write about it while it is still fresh in my mind. We went out on the boat around 5 pm. There was no wind and the water looked like a vast lake; an ocean of pearly glass.

Alex has the fishing bug so we brought the yard sale pole and some fancy new sand eel lures. The day was a Cape kind of day, overcast with peeks of sun; uninspiring light wise but peaceful after an unusually hot and sunny summer.

We headed to Stage Harbor Lighthouse where we fished awhile, casting and watching the boats head home at days end. Then we headed to the South Way. We cut the engine and drifted; listening to the sounds of the gulls, terns and plovers on the inside of the outer bar and the roaring waves crashing on the oceanside. We were totally alone on that great expanse of calm ocean.

Later as we headed back another unexpected show; a sunset that unfolded quietly with a thin streak of color on the horizon. Nature played a symphony and we sat mesmerized; yellow to orange to a purple gold. We quietly rowed into shore. The shared love we felt for this place and each other transcended words.

Summer of surfing

This has been the summer of surfing for Peter. Somedays I go with him early on a sparkly diamond day or late evening when the fog has rolled in.

Last September we bought him a used 9ft surfboard for his birthday. He was already back at Bates so I posed the surfboard against an ivy covered fence and sent him a photo of it. He never even saw it until May and at the time it seemed like a non present as he couldn't open it and enjoy it. Delayed gratification isn't such a bad thing in the end. He has used it constantly this summer. He surfed for 6 hours yesterday and is back at it this morning.

Surfing is hard work. It requires Zen like patience, incredible physical strength, perfect timing and skill.

I watch as he watches for a new set of waves to come in. The waves are getting bigger and bigger and I hear the occasional hoop and holler; similar those I hear when we are tree skiing. Everyone should have such a passion in life.

Pete just came in commenting on " the absolutely glorious weather " and said " I feel like a real surfer!" Summer 2010 has been a perfect summer for all of us. The days have been like a string of pearls; sunny, hot and the ocean has been unusually warm. I know this is probably the last summer we will have with both boys here for the whole summer. How sweet it's been!

Sweet cat boat

Early morning at Cow Yard with the pups. The water is like glass with the slightest west wind stirring. I have come to love this catboat; at any time of day, in every changing tide it sits there looking so pretty. The beach shacks are the backdrop . The bright glints on the water sparkle

like a diamond frame around it.