Another year, a new endeavor

I ran this as a Letter from the Editor in both of my newspapers this week as a tribute to my Dad!

The term “Proud Papa” applies very much to my Dad, Gary Will. Since the day I was born, 25 years ago, he has been proud of me for various accomplishments, but he also has had a profound affect on my life. 

He was raised in Holyoke by French-Canadian and Polish parents. His father, Edward Will (fondly called Pop Pop), was an electrician, and well, you could say he wired the entire City – from the Holyoke mills to Holyoke Water Power and the Northfield Mountain Project. Pop Pop had a penchant for old things, which he promptly passed down to my Dad. I have since inherited that love for antiques.

I look back fondly on memories of being six, seven and eight years old, finding myself spending the weekends with Dad, venturing around the state and New England, in search of antique shops containing dusty heirlooms, once-prized possessions and long since forgotten paintings. “You break it, you buy it” was engrained into my brain, but it didn’t stop me from gingerly tracing my finger over old photographs, looking at Victorian children blankly staring back, or realizing the tattered, sweet-smelling novel titled “Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland” was the original version of the more familiar illustrated children’s book, “Alice in Wonderland.”

Our antiquing adventures were certainly not boring. Dad taught me how to recognize a real Raggedy Ann or Andy doll (identifiable with a hand-stitched heart on the body), which to this day has me awkwardly peering down any Raggedy doll I encounter, just to check. I learned how to recognize the American Fostoria pattern, something that Dad and his partner, Todd, collected together. This lesson, however, backfired, as I would then point out any piece found in the pattern – regardless if he already owned it or not. 

The Hadley Flea Market was my childhood stomping ground, as my Dad set up a booth to sell antiques. Like father, like daughter, I too wanted to sell my worldly possessions, and he helped me set up a box from which I sold books. I learned how to haggle pretty well and today can make a mean deal. 

As a child, Dad nurtured my love for books and readily supplied the demand I created. This trend continued in each direction I found myself growing. A love for music? I was furnished with a clarinet. A love for writing? Endless amounts of notebooks, journals and writing utensils came my way. My father nurtured my dreams, hopes and talents. 

As I grew, of course, they matured with me, but his endless support chartered the vessel of those dreams. Dad was beyond proud of me for graduating from college, thrilled to see me secure an internship and eventually land a professional job in the field I studied. Throughout all of these experiences, Dad effortlessly pushed me to follow my dreams.

Now, it’s my turn to be proud. On Thursday, July 21, he will have celebrated a birthday, but also, the fruition of his own dream – opening an antique shop. Recently he founded Main Street Antiques, in Belchertown, with a friend. His collections will now have a place to be displayed and he can devote all of his time to doing what he truly loves the most. Searching for treasures, interacting with those who share a similar love and being living proof that it’s never too late to follow your dreams. Happy birthday, (times two!) Dad. I love you.

Fourth fun with favorites

For the majority of my life, I've spent the Fourth of July on Cape Cod. After meeting Sean, and him having lived essentially on the cape, that tradition has continued for nearly 7 years. We returned to Plymouth last weekend for a fantastic Fourth of July celebration full of my favorite people.

Sean's sisters and brother, and their respective significant others, are like the brothers and sisters I never had but so wanted. The whole lot of them is endlessly entertaining and I love them to pieces.

Tim spawned the idea for a weekend clam bake. He arrived at Sean's parent's house carrying 10 pounds of clams, an entire bag full of corn, something like 5 pounds of linguisa, potatoes, hot dogs and onions. Talk about making an entrance!

Tim also has been on a mixed drink-making kick ever since returning from his honeyoon in Antigua. Tim consumed nine chocolate monkeys (choco liquor, banana and choco syrup) by the time we finished clam-baking. Needless to say, Tim was drunk. And SO funny.

Sitting poolside we chatted, the girls and their mom played card games, while myself and the boys played Bocci ball and were thoroughly entertained by Tim, who later threw himself in the pool while bear hugging me. 

That evening saw myself, Sean and Tim fishing down at the cranberry bogs in front of Sean's parent's house. Sean finally caught something larger than the palm of his hand, I got my line tangled in a tree (I don't fish), Tim fell in the bogs while picking flowers for Doris and we ended the evening teasing frogs near one particular bog pump station. 

The Fourth of July was spent entirely outside and in the same good company. We ate crazy amounts of seafood, played a game of softball, more Bocci, swam and explored downtown Plymouth while eating ice cream (Raspbery sorbet for this lacto!). 

(Chris & Renee, Tim & Doris, myself & Sean). Roy & Jennie are missing!

Jumping photos are the best. Ever.

Plymouth, "America's Hometown" turns into a swelling mass of tourists and residents alike during this particular weekend. Burial Hill, located in front of Plymouth Rock, becomes swarmed with people waiting to watch the fireworks. You're always bound to run into someone you know.

We had the best seats in the house - we watched the fireworks from a rock jetty right in Plymouth Harbor. Our feet and butts fell asleep, but it was totally worth it. 

The scrambling of everyone looking for a spot and the ensuing chaos of everyone trying to leave quickly is exciting. It's always a rush winding through the maze of people (tourists) looking for exits. Thankfully, we know the side streets and quick ways to exit, so while our exit was not gracious at all (Doris....."I'll have you arrested!"....) it was painless. 

And the Fourth isn't complete without backyard sparklers!

A western wedding

Doris and Tim were married June 4, 2011 in Iowa.
I've known them only as a couple and was introduced to them near the end of my freshman year in college in 2005 when meeting Sean's family for the first time. I fell in love with them instantly.
Carefree and completely in love, they exude happiness from every pore. We were all waiting for when the time came for Tim to propose. I was the first one he told about his plan in 2010 and I helped him with a few things behind the scenes. Including keeping the secret quiet from Sean and forgetting to bring the engagement ring from my home in Western Mass to theirs in Plymouth. Oops. I was honored to be asked to photograph their wedding.

Doris, Tim, Renee and her boyfriend Chris drove down to Iowa a week before the wedding to set things up. Myself, Sean and his family flew down June 2. Kay, Doris' best friend, drove down with her fiancee and the wedding dress. Everyone made it safely. Doris finally breathed a sigh of relief when Kay appeared with the dress.
Somehow, Sean and I weren't informed we needed to rent hotel rooms during our stay. Tim's Grandma and Grandpa graciously let us stay in their beautiful home (complete with gorgeous antiques - I was in love) for the first night. Later on, we bunked with Doris and Renee and then finally Renee and Chris in a beautiful lodge.
Sean and I helped Tim run errands the day prior to the wedding (Iowa has Super Targets! Woa) and he showed us around his hometown as best he could. His family was so gracious and nearly every meal we ate was home cooked.

The wedding itself was lovely, with a few mishaps mostly involving breaking glass, that are funny to look back on now. It couldn't have been more perfect for a pairing that is so perfect for one another.
Influenced by the Mid West, everyone wore cowboy boots, including the bride and groom. The reception was held in another beautiful location which looked like a log cabin, complete with stuffed bear, moose and deer heads adorning the walls. I don't think it could have screamed "Tim" more, who, by the way, let Doris take full reins of the theme, decorations and planning. He kept saying, "Whatever Doris wants" and "If Doris is happy, I'm happy." Honestly, Tim could have gotten married in a mud puddle if Doris wanted and would have been just as peachy.

During the wedding ceremony, Doris cried the instant she began walking down the isle with her Dad. And while we all joked about who would cry first (everyone suggested Doris, including herself) it was hard to keep a dry eye. Amidst her tears as she walked down the isle, Doris was beaming. When saying her vows, slipping the ring on Tim's finger or listening to the pastor, tears streamed down her face but she looked so in love, and so completely complete. Tim just smiled the widest smile I've ever seen literally the entire time. I think he gave his cheeks a workout that day. Every time I looked at him, which was all the time through my camera, he was smiling. It was contagious.
Truthfully, I shed a happy tear when I caught Doris mouthing "I love you" to Tim on the alter. The entire ceremony, and day, was beautiful.

I promised Tim I would keep these babies embargoed until he and Doris returned from their two-week honey moon. They returned early this morning, and while that means I can technically post them (can you tell I'm a journalist?) I will still keep the majority under wraps with only three complete dress shots. I can't wait to show them to The Duquettes (I love saying that now!) next weekend, so hopefully these babies will not only tide them over, but myself as well.