Down by the Pond

 

The below was posted on Facebook, but I am copying it here so that it will be preserved longer than the fleeting posts in FB. The introduction was written by my sister, Beth, and the poem by my brother, Chuck. Both are so well written that I will simply let them speak for themselves.

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I recently came across this poem written by my brother, which he read so beautifully and emotionally at my Mom's funeral service.

As background, for those of you who did not know me then, my parents owned several acres in Wolcott, Connecticut. Adjacent to our house was a hill that the whole neighborhood used for sliding in the winter - sleds, and even cardboard boxes when it was icy. There was a Y in the hill - one way led directly through the woods to the ice covered pond. The other was a longer trail that ended at a dam. You chose whichever you wanted, depending on the conditions or the bravery you had that day.

 

All the kids in our area skated on the pond (called "Russell's Pond") during the winter months. Or build fires around the pond to keep warm. In the summer, they traipsed into the woods to pick blueberries, and to find the elusive Lady Slipper flowers.

 

My parents shared their property with everyone. My mom was everyone's mother. Need a bandaid? Use the bathroom? Build an igloo in the front yard? She was just ... there.

When they bought this house, this home, this property, they said they wanted to live there forever, to raise their children there, to die there. And they did just that, both of them dying in this home of ours.

 

When my Dad died in 2006, we scattered his ashes into the pond. We did the same with my Mom's ashes when she died in 2012. It is what they would have wanted - to remain a part of "Sylvernook", which they called their home when they purchased it just prior to their marriage in 1946. "Syl" was for Mom's name, Sylvia. "Ver" was for my Dad's name, Vernon.

So here is Chuck's poem, which brought back SO many memories for me - not just the home and the property, but so much more.

 

 

"Down By The Pond" - by Chuck Russell

Down by the pond I threw a stone

It skipped, and skipped, and skipped, and skipped

Made ripples that spread, and spread, and spread

How many drops of water touched another, then another, then another, then another

And down the brook and on, and on, and on, and on

Go softly, go softly, go softly into the night.

A spring or two or more filled the pond,

Wet the dirt and fallen leaves, and made it right

to grow march grass and lily pads

Where turtles and frogs and toads and snakes

Could live and eat and grow and thrive

For generations

And children, generation by generation, by generation, by generation

Could catch the turtles and frogs and toads and snakes

Or they could dig or run or skate or hide

Or in the winter take a slide

From the house at the top of the hill.

On summer nights the peepers and frogs

Would sing a chorus so loud, so loud

And lull to sleep, and lull to sleep, and lull to sleep, and lull to sleep

Go softly, go softly, go softly into the night.

In that house at the top of the hill

A quiet woman lived

And loved the generations of children

Who would come and share

Their lives, their joys, their excitement, and their bounty from the pond

And she knew their names each one, each one

Each child, each sibling, each life, each home

And loved them as her own children and their friends

And the generations of Girl Scouts, women's club members, exchange students, ESL students and more

Norway, Barbados, Spain, China, and the list goes on and on

She was the volunteer who was there

Not to make a splash

But to make a difference

A life touching lives, touching lives, touching lives

Go softly, go softly, go softly into the night.

That legacy of touching lives

Would pass onto her children and their children

From the west coast to the east coast

From Africa to Asia

A lesson that it's lives, not things, that count

It's memories and a life that's lived

That makes a difference, that makes a difference, that makes a difference, that makes a difference

And whether in body or in spirit

We return back to that pond

And stand along the shore, sharing memories and tears

Of a woman who shared

Not just a pond, but a life

Not just a life, but love

And when we spread her ashes

From ashes to ashes

From dust to dust

From life, to life, to life, to life

And on and on and on and on

Go softly, go softly, go softly into the night.