Kerry Temple '74 | November 25, 2015
At Thanksgiving time I think of people who deserve a thank you. These are people who came into my life and left a gift, and then went there way while I went mine.
This year I’m thinking of John A. Richardson. Here’s why.
One Saturday morning when I was 8, my grandmother died. She had lived with us, my mother’s mom. She did all the cooking, slept in the back room of our little house, offered her lap when we watched TV at night.
Her sudden and unexpected death was a blow to me, and not just seeing her dead in her bed, but the tumultuous disruption it brought to the gentle security of home. My mother was nearly hysterical with tears and anguish and cries of disbelief. My dad tried to console her, but she pushed him away, leaving him helpless, not knowing what to do.