My Brother, Walt

(The following remembrance of Walt Cole has been received for publication.)

The world knew him as a tall, handsome man; a hard worker, self-made, a master carpenter and successful businessman. He was articulate, immaculate — even in his work clothes after a day’s work — and always ready to lend a helping hand. He was a man of many charms and talents, well-known and well-liked by a wide variety of people, some of which are among the “rich and famous.”

But to me he was simply “my brother, Walt.”

He was eight years older than me, the seventh of nine children. We all grew up in Sandy Hook with a couple of goats, some chickens and a huge garden. It was a house filled with family, friends and lots of homemade music. When Walt was 9 years old he bought a puppy (he told me many years later that the rest of the litter was given away and that this was his first lesson in the way of the world). The dog and I grew up together and while it was clear Tarzan was Walt’s dog, he was my best friend. That dog helped me learn a lesson about the world at large too — when Walt got married and took his guitar and his dog with him.

When I look back now, it seems that too swiftly the years slipped by, the nine of us experienced the joys and sorrows of marriages and divorces, children and grandchildren, careers built and ended. We all measured success by our own rulers; the links of the family chain weakened. A few years ago, Walt decided it was high time for us all to get back together, so he hosted a family reunion and they came home from Texas, California and Florida. It turned out to be the first time ever that all nine of us were in the same house on the same day!

Maybe it’s because Walt and I were the only ones to remain in Connecticut, steeped in our New England roots, but I think we shared a special bond. It is those special moments at the kitchen table when we shared a cup of tea, just like when we were kids at home on Pine Street, and I got to be the baby sister once again, basking in his warmth and humor and good advice, that remain my most precious memory of him.

He’s gone now after a courageous battle against cancer and a long, successful career, but perhaps his greatest contribution is manifest in a family reconnected.

Shirley Ferris

Robin Hill Road, Newtown                                                April 7, 2010