Robert D. Hartshorne Was Remembered as a Sportsman and much more
We are in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Today Bill and I drove north on winding small roads beside stunning views of the giant of the east, Mount Washington. Our destination was the small village of Tamworth, on the east side of the narrow state.
We found a place for some lunch and met a woman who turned out to know Bob and Sally from their time living here. They said the general store next door was purchased by a man from Philadelphia, who had planned to move up here and distill a new kind of liqueur. He said he’d be using a lot of local ingredients, but his plan was foiled by the fire inspector. He ran him out of town and so, now the former store sits empty waiting for someone else to come up with a dream.
I played the file of my father Nat Hartshorne’s remembrance of Robert D. Hartshorne. People sat transfixed as his mellifluous voice came out with details about double dates in 1937 and other trips down memory lane. For my eulogy, I recalled Bob’s better half of life, well, better majority of life, when he was a sportsman, a go getter, and he was so warm and hospitable to us when we visited, and to me later when as a 20-something I’d frequent their house in Dedham.
Then we drove north to Jackson where I’m visiting with Bill at his vacation chalet. A view of Mount Washington, a big deck and a ballgame to watch tonight. yeah!