02/23/2020
This is the eulogy that I wrote for my wife Liza for her memorial service February 22, 2020.
As my mother-in-law Muzz has often said, Liza was born happy and busy. That is so true. Anyone who had even the briefest encounter with Liza would ask if this girl was as warm and friendly as she appeared. The answer was a resounding, yes. Liza was precisely the way she came across to others, and there was nothing artificial about her. Liza was the genuine article. She never spoke ill of anyone, nor talked behind their back. She always had a positive attitude about everything and never woke up in a bad mood. Liza never cursed, and very rarely became angry at anyone except for me occasionally, when I screwed up.
It is challenging to talk about Liza as a single person because most of my life, we have been partners. We were an extension of each other. I can't stress this enough. My wife and I were a team since 1974. I thought everyone was like this, but I now understand that that is simply not the case for many. I was a lucky guy, and I certainly knew it. I can't remember a day that would go by that I wouldn't say to her, "Did I tell you how much I love you today?" She would then reply in a pouting manner, and respond, "No, I don't think you have!", as if it was about time that I said it.
I have known Liza my entire life. In the preschool years, Scott and I became friends, and we used to ride tricycles around the Bean's living room. Scott also had one of those heavy steel cars that you could sort of pedal if you had the strength of Hercules. We were so small that both of us could fit into the same seat, and Liza would push us both around the yard. She was pretty strong.
Whenever I was hanging out with Scott over at his house, I always wanted to talk to Liza. She was incredibly sweet. When Liza was 15, I asked her to the dance at Westminster School; she turned me down. But during the summer of 1974, I finally mustered the courage to ask her again, and this time she said yes.
So on the eve of the 4th of July in 1974, Liza and I went out on our first date. She was barely 16, and I was barely 18. I invited her to go see the movie "The Sting." After spending almost eight years in private schools where there were either no girls or any girls who would ever give me the time of day, I hardly knew anything about women or dating. Luckily, Liza did not consider that a prerequisite.
I bought a cheap bottle of wine and some ice for after the movie but awkwardly failed to provide wine glasses or a corkscrew. Our first adventure together was perusing the aisles of Grandway in Waterbury, searching for these essential missing items. But Liza did not care. It wasn't a big deal to her.
After the movie, we found ourselves sitting on a bench at Whittemore's Beach. As I grabbed the bottle of wine from the back of the car, I suddenly realized that the wine bottle failed to actually make contact with the bag of ice melting in the back seat of my 1966 Chevy Malibu. So the wine was quite warm after sitting in the car on that hot July night.
But again, it did not matter to Liza. Nothing rattled her. She stuck a few ice cubes in the glass, and after a few sips declared, she was getting a little tipsy. I questioned how in the world anyone could get tipsy on two sips of diluted wine. I started acting like I was getting tipsy too, and faked that I was falling off the bench. As I was falling, I reached out my arms for her to catch me an uttered a corny line from "Gone with the Wind," Kiss me, you fool!" And to my utter amazement, she did.
And that is what started it all. From then on, we started going out every single solitary night. My parents kept on telling me; You're seeing "THAT" girl way too much! You're going to blow it! She will get sick of you and dump you. But you know, that just never happened.
Since the moment that Liza first kissed me on that hot July night, we have been almost inseparable. We never did get sick of each other. For 46 years, it was Liza and Jimmy.
We went to college together, where we both majored in Biology. She was into plants, and I was into Embryology. We studied incredibly hard until late in the evening and then sat quietly together in my private dorm room surrounded by the soft, rippling lights emitting from the 14 aquariums I needed for my research. On other nights we would go to local clubs and danced to the music of Earth Wind and Fire.
After college, she pursued her love for plants and flowers landing a job at Nature's Touch Flower Shop, run by the wonderful Sandy and Pat Perilla. I worked as a marine biologist at the National Marine Fisheries Service in Milford.
On a balmy October evening in 1981, I mustered up some more courage, and on the bluff at Tom Nevers Head in Nantucket, I asked Liza to marry me.
After being let go from the NMFS because of budget cuts, I wanted to be an entrepreneur and be independent, so I embarked on a number of Ralph Kramden business ideas that just did not work out, or just too early or too late for the general public. Liza supported me at every turn.
Through a twist of fate, we decided to try to make our own 18-century-style furniture. Scott put an ad together for us in the local paper for our Christmas Table. In only three weeks, we managed to sell 21 of them. Thus our furniture-making business began.
While all this was happening, Liza and I started a family, and we were blessed with our two wonderful sons, Christopher and Jason. One could not ask for two better sons. They were incredibly easy. When they rarely misbehaved, we stole a page out of the NFL playbook, and instead of punishing them, we would simply fine them. “You punch your brother its a $5.00 fine.” We put all the fine money in a Ken Schlitter pitcher in our kitchen. We pulled the money out when we went on vacation, and the boys would pay for the meal with their fine money.
For years, Liza and I made beautiful solid cherry furniture that was complemented by Liza's hand-rubbed tung oil finishes and sold them at area shows and big furniture markets at Valley Forge and Nantucket. We opened The Silver Cherry in Woodbury, and Liza transformed it into a magical Christmas wonderland every Christmas. Our Christmas Open House was such a joy for all of us as she decorated the shop so beautifully and would bake our nearly-famous Ko Ko Kana Ginger Molasses Cookies for our customers to enjoy.
Liza loved Nantucket. We both would vacation there when we were young. When we started our family, we were lucky enough to be able to rent a house on Smith point. Liza's biggest joys were sitting on the beach sipping a glass of wine (with no ice cubes this time) watching the summer sun sink into the Atlantic ocean, always hoping for a beautiful sunset. She has thousands of Nantucket sunset pictures; so many I created a book of her best.
But when we were in Nantucket, you just could not sit around. Liza made us all work. Each year she would make the entire family go on to what I called the "End of the earth walk." We would have to walk to the end of Smith point, which was quite far away to collect Bay Scallop shells, surf clams, Conches, and whatever interesting shells we could find. She would them spend brisk fall Sunday evenings making Nantucket Shell Lights, soap dishes, and other items for the Silver Cherry for Christmastime, all as we watched football on TV. Oh, that's right; Liza also liked watching football.
Liza was incredibly frugal. We would go to the supermarket together, and I would put things into the carriage, and she would promptly remove what I just placed in. It would be quite frustrating. I used to tell her that "I help make the money to buy these things you know." She would simply respond that we don't need them. Liza rarely bought anything for herself. She bought whatever the boys needed. She was not impressed with jewelry. A simple, beautifully handcrafted Lee Skalkos neckless was all she wanted.
During the mid-1990s, I was starting to get bored sitting at the Silver Cherry every weekend, fluffing stuffed bunnies. I wanted to try to write computer software as I began to do in 1983. By 1995 we launched Knightlite Software and began writing study software for firefighters, EMTs, and Paramedics. Our house was small at the time, and the only place the computer would go was our bedroom. Liza put up with me typing in computer code at 4:00 AM every morning and was incredibly supportive that this venture just might work out.
When our software business started to take off, we built a second story, so we would have enough rooms to create anything we wanted. We were now building furniture and writing software for firefighters. We loved what we did. Liza handled all the technical support, orders, and packaging of the software. I wrote the code and created the products. It was a great combination.
When my father and aunt passed away, we purchased our cousins' portion of some land my Grandfather bought in the early 60s. One hundred fifteen acres of forestland and a house in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Liza, and my brother and I turned it into a vacation rental, so we could afford to keep the property in our family. Liza and I would spend every evening brainstorming how we could make it more enjoyable for our guests.
Stockbridge was our escape from the world. It's pretty wild on our land. She used to laugh at the distant sounds of the Barred Owls as their hoots sounded like a slightly intoxicated party guest. We both worked very hard to make The Redway House a success, and Liza was very proud that our efforts earned 58 Five Star ratings. Even when Liza was sick, she would love to go to our little house in the woods. We loved to go to Tanglewood, and I was so glad that even when she was so sick, I was able to take her where we danced under the Berkshire summer sky for one last time as Earth Wind and Fire played in the Tanglewood shed.
Liza and I both believed that we came to earth as innocent souls that were thrust on this earth that often can be unkind and unloving. But we spent our time working at our businesses and try to insulate ourselves from what is so unkind on this planet. We created our own world that protected us. It was kind of a Winnie the Pooh world. I was once interviewed by the Associated Press as a "Dad that works at home," and they quoted me saying that my biggest obstacle getting to work was getting by the dog and cat. I think it was the president of Intel, who once said, "The best job you will ever have is the one you invent." That was true for us. We created our own world that insulated us from the outside, at least until the insulation was torn down by sickness.
I feel so blessed that I had the incredible privilege to have been married to Liza. Together it felt like we were an unstoppable team. W E M A D E T H I N G S ! We had a wonderfully creative life. We would imagine an idea, and we committed to making it useful, beautiful, and something that would last the test of time. No matter what it was, we worked to make it the best it could be. As the Shakers said, "Do your work as if you had a thousand years to live, and as if you were to die tomorrow." We made our furniture to last for centuries, and software that helped make better fire officers that equated to saving more lives from the ravages of fire.
Just a couple of nights ago, I was letting our Beagle Dory out before we went to bed. While standing out in the cold February evening, I was startled by the hoots of a Barred Owl right above me in the Spruce tree. I have never heard a Barred Owl at our house ever. They say that our loved ones often use birds to convey messages from heaven. I would like to think that was Liza's way of telling me that everything was going to be okay, and I should celebrate life with the enthusiasm of a Barred Owl hoot.
The box below contains Liza's ashes. I built it twice the size than it needed to because Liza and I were meant to be together, and someday we will be again. It is a hand-dovetailed box made out of solid cherry and is the first piece that I have ever made that Liza did not put the finish on.
Liza was the love of my life. She was the compass for our family. She was an unrelenting optimist and was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. In closing, Did I tell you today how much I loved Liza Bean Redway?
