As I introduced the text, I found myself telling my class about my beloved Papa Da, the greatest storyteller I know - a man who encouraged my love for the written word far before I could read by gifting me with books, delighted his grandchildren with his tales of talking animals and make-believe lands, and read from illustrated anthologies complete with voices and actions. As we got older, his stories became less fanciful, their subjects ranging from our family's Irish-American history and his upbringing near Boston to his early days as a schoolteacher then as a Navy man in WWII, the post-war "secret" FBI stories, and always, always about his lovely bride. A greater love story has never been told than that of my grandparents, and I can't wait to tell my own children one day about this lifelong love I witnessed in their partnership. Papa Da loved to tell stories, and he was damn good at it.
I shared with my seniors how much I'd learned from him about our family, admitting my impatience at times when I'd heard it before or when I thought I had somewhere better to be. I tried to establish the role of storytelling in my own heritage and the lessons which come from resistance to or acceptance of those stories; they shared with me as well. Shortly after, my mom came to the IA to tell me that Papa Da slipped into eternal rest, quietly, humbly, with his bride of sixty-four years beside him. I told you: the greatest love story ever told.
God, I wish I hadn't been so impatient with those stories. Where else did I possibly have to be? Did he know how much I loved the Skippery Boo enactment, his made-up creatures, and that story about how he bought Gramma's engagement ring in Lakeland, Florida?
It's easy to get lost in those thoughts of regret and disappointment, but I think he did. Sharing stories with those he loved (or sometimes barely knew!) gave him such joy; he raised children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren who celebrate the printed word and re-tell his favorite stories. In my mind, this is his legacy: a simple but rich one, that of fantastical lands and harsh realities, his own fairytale romance, and values of knowledge and wisdom instilled in us from a true teacher. As a teacher himself, I think he'd be quite pleased to know I shared a small piece of my students with him yesterday morning.
In his almost ninety-three years, Richard T. Clancy saw a lot of change. As a man of faith, family, and morals, he probably didn't love the choices the world or we as his family made sometimes. Yet, never did I hear words other than love, support, and respect leave his lips. He rejoiced in our successes, expressed sorrow for our griefs, and loved us unconditionally. For as long as I can remember, when I bent to say goodbye, he kissed me on the cheek, held my hand for a brief moment, wished me God's blessing, and said, "Nice to be with you." The beauty of his message is in its simplicity, I think, just like the stories.
He said two other phrases which will be his legacy as well, at least for me. He often told me, "You're looking good," -- never mind that we were on the phone at the time. As I got older, I said it back to him sometimes on the phone, beating him to it, and he got such a kick out of that. His sense of humor especially with us grandkids was a such a gift. Secondly, he often said, "Glory be to God" with great exuberance. It really had this perfect pitch and tenor which left no mistake about how exactly he felt about something. Papa Da's presence didn't go unnoticed in most situations and for that, he was a stranger to no one he met. His wide circle of friends all over the place and strong connections to distant relatives in Ireland attest to his generous spirit and sense of adventure.
Papa Da's legacy lives on in each of us, and in our many anecdotes and beautiful memories of him we can now share. There are so many tales of Rockport adventures, his support at games and performances and weddings, the legendary book gifts at Christmas, and the flowers which he gave my grandmother every.single.week for their entire marriage. (Did I not tell you it really is a fairytale?!) He wove past and present together into this seamless heritage for us. To move into a future without our Clancy patriarch means to embrace his greatest gift to us, our own oral tradition, and celebrate Dick Clancy's legacy through his storytelling.
I shared with my seniors how much I'd learned from him about our family, admitting my impatience at times when I'd heard it before or when I thought I had somewhere better to be. I tried to establish the role of storytelling in my own heritage and the lessons which come from resistance to or acceptance of those stories; they shared with me as well. Shortly after, my mom came to the IA to tell me that Papa Da slipped into eternal rest, quietly, humbly, with his bride of sixty-four years beside him. I told you: the greatest love story ever told.
God, I wish I hadn't been so impatient with those stories. Where else did I possibly have to be? Did he know how much I loved the Skippery Boo enactment, his made-up creatures, and that story about how he bought Gramma's engagement ring in Lakeland, Florida?
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| Christmas 2012, after the presentation of Papa Da's much-anticipated Christmas books |
In his almost ninety-three years, Richard T. Clancy saw a lot of change. As a man of faith, family, and morals, he probably didn't love the choices the world or we as his family made sometimes. Yet, never did I hear words other than love, support, and respect leave his lips. He rejoiced in our successes, expressed sorrow for our griefs, and loved us unconditionally. For as long as I can remember, when I bent to say goodbye, he kissed me on the cheek, held my hand for a brief moment, wished me God's blessing, and said, "Nice to be with you." The beauty of his message is in its simplicity, I think, just like the stories.
He said two other phrases which will be his legacy as well, at least for me. He often told me, "You're looking good," -- never mind that we were on the phone at the time. As I got older, I said it back to him sometimes on the phone, beating him to it, and he got such a kick out of that. His sense of humor especially with us grandkids was a such a gift. Secondly, he often said, "Glory be to God" with great exuberance. It really had this perfect pitch and tenor which left no mistake about how exactly he felt about something. Papa Da's presence didn't go unnoticed in most situations and for that, he was a stranger to no one he met. His wide circle of friends all over the place and strong connections to distant relatives in Ireland attest to his generous spirit and sense of adventure.
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| Never was Mr. Clancy happier than when he was surrounded by his family: Pat & Catelyn's wedding (2011) with nearly the whole fam-damily |
It was nice to be with you, Papa Da.
