CAMPBELLs, LUGGs, & BLACKWELLs of Nelson, PA

I've previously mentioned that my siblings often seemed more like uncles and aunt. But my sister at times seemed almost like a second mother. And she was the one I felt safest sharing confidences with. (And with whom I may have set a record for the most times helping someone else move (and rearrange furniture). [I think she was only partially kidding when she said she was frustrated with an apartment she had on Binghamton's Park Terrace Pl. because she couldn't rearrange where the fireplace was located. :) ]

I spent many hours with her gardening -- especially on a rock garden near a small lily pond dad built. And countless hours in walks through woods and fields, where she taught me how to identify wildflowers. (And occasionally steal some for transplanting.)

I suspect that being a girl shielded her from much of the verbal abuse Tom was subjected to. But she may have been subjected more to the tugs and currents of the rivalry between mom and gram.

She had strong people skills and many strengths: talent in art, embroidery, poetry, etc., but lacked self-confidence in some areas. Part of that was because of an injury she suffered as a teen where she broke her nose. It was rebuilt, but was not "A Thompson nose." Probably that was all for the better, but she was self-conscious about it. She was dyslexic, which may have been why she never graduated from high school. (She always felt self-conscious about that.) Instead she completed Ridley-Lowell Business School's secretarial training where she learned typing, shorthand, filing, etc. Her dyslexia definitely was why she never got t drivers license.

I believe there are many different types of intelligence, but hers were markedly different from the rest of the family, which sometimes led her to feelings of inadequacy. When she played chess with Hank she didn't stand a chance of winning (nor did I). He would look ahead several moves and planned carefully. Anne took pleasure in from time to time making a random more, just to throw off his plans.

She had a strong sense of fashion, and as a teenager filled notebooks with fashion sketches. She worked in clay, water color, oils, charcoal and loved pastels. Being a "Sunday painter" ("a nonprofessional painter, usually unschooled and generally painting during spare time") was an important source of satisfaction to her. I'm not sure about the "unschooled" part. I know she took night school courses from two of Binghamton's best water-colorists. And she studied painting in oils from Binghamton's most prominent portrait painter. I believe there was more training, but I'm not sure of the details. She was also active in the arts and crafts scene, having her own candle making studio, roadside stand and participating in arts and crafts shows. Perhaps the Met wouldn't have bought any of her works, but I think many had considerable appeal and merit. If she ever tried to sell any of her art, I'm not aware of it.

She wrote some poetry, had a small library of the works of Whitman, Longfellow and others, but her favorite poet was Emily Dickinson.

She also collected antique demitasse cups and small tea sets.

I never regarded her as a particularly good overall cook. (Successfully making jello remained elusive.) But she had some dishes that were very good. And she excelled at making a meal out of whatever ingredients were on hand and feeding her family on a limited budget.

She worked at a variety of jobs. Secretarial jobs with insurance agencies. Being in charge of the candy counter at Sears -- that's where she met future husband George Gibson -- he worked for Sears as an appliance repairman. And she had a long and well appreciated job with Red Cross. All a boss had to do was say something like "Send a thank you letter." Or, "Send congratulations," etc. and she'd take it from there. She had a feel for marketing. One year her candy counter had a lot of candy canes left over after Christmas. They weren't selling at 10¢ apiece, so she put up a sign saying "Special. 2 for 25¢" and quickly sold out!

She was "unlucky in love." I liked some of her suitors who my parents disapproved of and think some would have made better husbands than she ended up with. Her first husband, George, always treated me fine, I have no complaints there. But he didn't do as well by his wife and son. He was a navy cook in the south Pacific during the war. And he did very good impersonations of Jerry Lewis. But he had issues, especially with his employers and honesty. As I remember it, the only reason he wasn't prosecuted is that my parents and their lawyer visited the DA and got charges dropped.

But indirectly, he played a role in my getting to hear my favorite poet, e.e cummings, do reading. He needed a bunch of tests done at the VA hospital in Syracuse. And needed another driver to come along, so I went with him. It was going to take several hours, so after dropping him off, I went to the nearby campus of Syracuse U. to look around and kill time. I had just started walking around, when a poster caught my eye. It announced that cummings would be giving readings at something or other hall in ten minutes. I asked directions, hurried off, and arrived at the lecture hall just in time. Seeing him in action as he brought his works to life -- and listening to his pauses and speed ups, changes in inflection and pitch was so very instructive about how he wanted them to sound. Someone just reading a page would have no idea how animated he wanted a 'Whee' to sound -- or the different voices he used. I am grateful for that, but it doesn't atone for George's misdeeds.

After several years of being a single mom, she married Herb. He was older, a retired IBM factory worker. He owned his home and had a good pension and benefits. And savings. I suspect she saw financial stability and a home for herself and her son. But it didn't work out as she had hoped. As time went on, Herb's drinking problem grew. One morning she called and said "He hit me last night. Come get me." I was happy to oblige and immediately left and retrieved her and as many belongings as we could fit in the car. (We went back later for the rest of her things.) She didn't divorce him, she wanted to stay on his health insurance, which was a very generous plan, but they remained separated until his death.

Interpersonal relations were her strong point. She had many friends, several of them life-long. She was a good friend, a great listener, and could keep confidences. Even when illnesses limited what she could do, she still helped others. For example she volunteered for years for a suicide prevention hot line. Even when she was in a nursing home and struggling with vascular dementia, residents on her floor selected her as their representative. And she conducted drawing classes.

She wanted to be cremated. But surprised me with her request for what to do with he ashes. She knew I lived near the Appalachian Trail (a half hour drive from it) and have spent a lot of time on it. So she said "I've always wanted to go on the Appalachian Trail, but never was able to. You know it well. Pick a place that has a nice vista or one that's pretty and spread my ashes there. By that time I wasn't so spry myself, but I picked a glen I'm sure she would have liked, with lots of mountain laurel and rhododendron, and scattered her ashes there, at a spot from which you can see the trail, maybe 100 feet away.

But if she had had a tombstone a fitting epitaph would be "She made art and friends all her life."