A Life Remembered

In a home movie of Bill Maynard’s 91st birthday party, more than a dozen friends are gathered inside a neighbor’s house in Provincetown. Maynard is sitting in the center of the room in a brown, leather chair. Cake is brought out. He blows out the candles. And Maynard starts talking about his life -- about how he got the chance to become a painter. “I remember when I was a kid, around 12-years-old, [at] our house in Brookline, there was always a painting on an easel,” Maynard said. “My father was a plumber by trade, and was a self-taught artist. So anytime you’d go in there, there was always a painting on an easel. Either half-finished or beginning or whatever. And I, as a kid growing up, became very very interested in watching my father paint. He was nice enough to explain to me how … important it was to mix the colors properly, etcetera.” But his father couldn’t afford to send him to art school. So instead, Maynard joined the US Army. During World War II, he patrolled for German U

Tuckernuck Island off Nantucket feels like a place out of time. With just a few dozen homes connected by grassy roads, it’s held onto its wild character and sense of the past. That’s probably in part because it’s pretty remote. But it’s also thanks to the efforts and presence of Bam La Farge . "He served, y’know, he watched over the place," said Jim Tyler, a friend of La Farge's dating back to the 1960s and right up until La Farge died in February. "He was the caretaker, curator, guardian. I don’t think anybody who ever knew Bam could go look or hear about Tuckernuck without bringing him right in with it." La Farge was a big man, physically and emotionally. And he really didn’t care what other people thought of him. As evidence, his daughter Cate La Farge Summers says he had a distinctive smile. "He had had one of his front teeth knocked out I think in a baseball accident when he was a kid," Cate said. "And through most of his life wore a fake tooth, but in later years, just decided

When the irresistible force known as Ruth Bates walked into a classroom, wearing her signature red high top sneakers, her students knew immediately that it would be no ordinary class. A teacher, gardener, cook, baker, traveler, hiker and sailor, Bates’s zest for life and boundless energy fired her students’ imagination, enabling them to tap into their own creativity. Colleague Diane Perry said Bates’s passion for learning and teaching were equaled only by her love of the natural world. “She entered my life first when I was teaching and I worked with her at Center School," Perry said. "She was a substitute teacher and planted so much love of learning. It just came so naturally to her; it was wonderful to watch. I watched her do literal planting of flowers and trees all over Mattapoisett and marsh grass on the beach to help keep the dunes and the waterfront from washing away. I watched her working with so many people and sharing her enthusiasm for life. And as I was thinking of all these

Emblazoned below the image of a full-rigged ship, the old Tabor’s motto proclaims “All-A-Taut,” a nautical turn of phrase entirely consistent with the salty ambience of this seaport town. For more than 40 of her 82 years, Betty Durfee was the school’s head nurse. It was a good fit. Durfee was old school too. She ran the infirmary and, in keeping with the school motto, people who knew her say she ran a very tight ship. Over her four decades of service, thousands of teenage students and dozens of faculty members came to appreciate Durfee’s skill, compassion, and common sense as she went about her duties. “I knew Betty Durfee for almost thirty years here at Tabor," said Dick Duffy, who teaches in Tabor's history department. "I was the dean for eighteen years and Betty was the head nurse and I could always count on her to take the sick and the wounded. And I would have to take some of the miscreants and various disheveled shapes, and on weekends I’d bang on the door at all hours of the

Before the tool belts were strapped on or the first nail was pounded, Don Dickinson was looking over plans, writing proposals and talking to people. He was doing the groundwork. "He was just dedicated to the idea that people should be able to afford a decent place to live if they were working folks," said Warren Brody, a Mashpee-based attorney, and Dickinson's friend. Brody also volunteers at Habitat for Humanity of Cape Cod. "I think he had a fundamental and very deep sense of fairness," he said, "and (Don) felt that it was so unfair that people on the Cape could work hard and not be able to afford a decent place to live. And he felt that very personally and felt he needed to do something about it." This is an excerpt from the Life Remembered story about Don Dickinson. To hear the full story, click the LISTEN button above.

Harold Purington grew up in Framingham and lived the last 11 years of his life in Fairhaven. Harold was a World War II pilot, a devoted family man, and a born craftsman who brought joy to many people over the years through his woodworking creations.

After retiring from military and government work in the mid-1970s , George Webbere needed something to do. He had the garden to tend in the spring and summer. But when it turned cold, one of the things Webbere did was produce radio programs for the blind, including a story hour - one that became syndicated across the country throughout the Radio Reading Network. NARRATION: “The next mystery program is the story Venus Fly Trap by Ruth Randell… ." That’s Charlie Webbere, narrating. NARRATION: "Daphne and Merl were old friends, but they hadn't seen each other in years. Widowed now, Daphne had come to live in Merl's neighborhood… As soon as Daphne had taken off her hat and put it on Merl's bed, Merl picked it up and rammed it on her own yellow curls. It was a red felt hat…" “The blind were people he wanted to help," said Webbere's daughter, Sandra. "He was an avid reader. If you look around the house you see book cases hiding behind every door. And he liked plays. As a little boy he was

Helen Jean Lewis already was in her 90s when she moved to the Royal Nursing Center in Falmouth, three years ago, and it was a long life’s journey that brought her here — 94 years that she filled with travel and music, prayer and food. The following is an excerpt of the Life Remembered featuring Helen Jean Lewis. To hear the full story, click the LISTEN button above . Her friends and family say she was a woman who shared a lot, whether it was wisdom, stories or meals. For her roommate and friend Cinthia Karaffa, Lewis shared something bigger — her unwavering faith that God would take care of her. “I got comfort from that," Karaffa said. "I'm not afraid. I was afraid of dying when I came in here. And I've always been afraid of dying, but I'm no longer because of Helen. When it happens, it happens." For Helen Lewis, it happened on a Saturday morning after a life well-lived — and a jelly donut. "Oh, my goodness," said her youngest granddaughter, Jay-me Brown, "the jelly donut, how

In the second half of her life, Mary Lou Smith became known for being the person who knew the most about Falmouth history, and perhaps, the person who cared the most about saving it. After raising four daughters in Woods Hole with her husband, Paul Smith, she turned to historic preservation starting in her early sixties. Among her most enduring accomplishments was editing "The Book of Falmouth," a volume of photographs, memories, and history that has become an important historical reference. It was published to coincide with Falmouth's 300th anniversary in 1986. She was instrumental in saving the 1878 mansion Highfield Hall from demolition in the 1990s, as well as getting the town to renovate the 1930's-era Mullen Hall School when some suggested building a new school elsewhere. Mary Lou Smith was a founder of the Woods Hole Historical Museum and its journal, "Spritsail," which is still published twice a year. She is remembered as a buoyant woman who had a knack for getting people to

This May will mark two years since her husband Peter died, and Kerry Gonnella's greatest fear is that he will be forgotten. "I don't want his memory to fade," she said. "That's what happens. People die, people move on. Which is fine. That's life. But I want people to remember him." Peter Gonnella was the father of three children. He also was a coach and a teacher. His student-athletes describe him as a charismatic person who inspired them. They say that he cared about them. And that's not something people forget. "I could never forget him ever," said 18-year-old Erin Minns, one of Gonnella's players. "I still have the newspaper article about his passing up on my wall in my bedroom." Minns met Gonnella when she was a freshman trying out for the Harwich Girls Basketball team. "He helped me build my confidence not only in basketball but in life in general," she said. "I was more confident in myself and that made me happier. He just always had a very happy energy about him." Gonnella

In his retirement, Marston Daley wrote an autobiography called, "The Little Imp of Cape Cod." In it, he said his mom gave him the name Marston because she thought it couldn't be made into a nickname. She was wrong. Marston had lots of nicknames. His mom called him the Little Imp. And he writes that over the years people called him Marst, Jim, Tim, even Bud. His wife Jean, who everyone calls Birdie, said that many people have another name for Marston. "MacGyver," she said. "Remember that show MacGyver? He used to be able to put together some weird looking stuff and solve all sorts of problems. That was him." From the Barnstable Senior center, to a military museum in New Hampshire, to a group of Habitat for Humanity homes in Hyannis, Daley liked to step-up and solve people's problems, particularly in his retirement years. Professionally, he was a builder, and his truck always was carefully stocked with the proper tools -- and the proper clothes -- that a job might require. He built his

Osterville resident Al Lawson has been called a born counselor. He was the first guidance counselor at the new Barnstable High School when it opened in 1957, and it was a job that fit him perfectly. Today, there are stacks of letters and cards in the Lawson house in Centerville. Theyre piled neatly on tables and footstools and on the brick hearth. Theyre addressed to Al Lawsons wife Adrienne, and his two sons, Carl and Kurt. Most all of them include a story or two about Lawsons kindness and compassion. Weve got letter here from, Adrienne said, youd be amazed, they said he changed my life, just by taking the time to talk to me. And tell me that I was worth going on to school. Or that my family life was maybe not that great, but that he would look out for me, that he would watch after me. Lawson spent a career helping young people be happy, make good choices, and have successful lives. In his retirement, he sold real estate. Particularly land. It was a second career choice that his son

Pearl Hardaway Reese defied stereotypes, loss, addiction -- pretty much everything, including a world that changed dramatically in her lifetime. In each of the areas of Reese’s life that defined her – whether it was her expansive spiritual life, her art and poetry, or the way she faced trials and change – Reese lived on her own terms. Full audio story posted above

Jack Dowman, 84, was a mostly behind-the-scene volunteer. He was involved with government and service groups. He supported the school music programs, and for 10 years he organized the annual Eastham Windmill Weekend Parade. And he did it all just so he could help. "He was that kind of a guy who would do anything he could to help anybody," said his friend and fellow Rotary Club member, Dick Morello. "That's what we loved about him." Morello describes Dowman as a cut-up, always quick with a joke and always ready to laugh. But ask him about his wife, Morello says, and he was all business, telling you about the most amazing person he'd ever met. "He loved his wife. Oh my god, he praised his wife. Oh he couldn't say enough good about Ginette, … 'Oh, she's fantastic, best things that ever happened to me.' He would tell stories about when he was courting her." Dowman made friends easily, and he held onto them. In fact, he still me regularly with the fellas he grew up in back in Connecticut,

Welsey Ko probably could have avoided going to war. But as friends from his Philadelphia neighborhood were drafted and joined the fight, Ko decided to go too. He ended his service as a hero. For A Life Remembered, Sean Corcoran profiles Ko, who was 93 when he died. Five years ago, a WCAI reporter visited Wesley Ko home to interview him about his service in the Second World War. Ko received numerous medals in the war, participating in six different campaigns. He rose to the rank of Captain in the 82nd Airborne Division -- the 325th Glider Infantry, which means he and his men found their way into the war zones and participated in invasions not by parachute, but by flying in on unmotorized glider planes. In the interview, Ko talked about growing up in Philadelphia. He said that when the war came, he was working for a local printer. The printer argued that he Ko was needed at the business, and because of that, Ko probably could have avoided going to war at all. But as his friends and other

Harry Bowen was known by many names. But, just maybe, his favorite name might have been, "The Heather King." "He was the Heather King of Cape Cod," said Roberta Clark of the Barnstable County Cooperative Extension, where Harry Bowen volunteered and shared his love for the low-growing heather plant and its blooms. "He learned about Heather probably 40 to 50 years ago," she said. "He propagated them for over 35 years, and many of the heather beds on the Cape came from Harry." Bowen's passion for gardening led him to become a certified Master Gardner through the Extension. His volunteer work with the organization led to him staffing an information phone line, as well as designing and creating demonstration gardens. In an interview at the Barnstable County Fairgrounds, Clark said Bowen probably was the most ideal volunteer she ever had, because he was very interested in gardening, and because he loved working with people. "There's a heather bed here on the Fair Grounds, there's heather at

Maybe lots of people know there are three verses to the Happy Birthday song. Sarah Rosenberg knew. She knew all three verses, as well as the words to hundreds, perhaps thousands of other songs. Her family says she probably spent half of her days singing. As a student in New York City, Dan Rosenberg says his mother would study lyric sheets as she road the subway from Washington Heights to Brooklyn College. Broadway musicals and Big Band standards were her favorites. "Music was a very big part of her life," Dan Rosenberg said. "Not professionally. She was a school psychologist, and I think one of the people she really touched and influenced is going to be coming by." It was an act of kindness 45 years ago that first brought the Rosenberg family to this secluded, four-bedroom home along Wellfleet's unfrequented High Toss Road. "We were renting every year in the summers until '67," Dan said, "and the house we were in, while we were at the beach, caught fire and burned down. We came back

Outspoken and plain speaking, Betty Pease is featured in this month's A Life Remembered .

She can be described in many ways, but Roslyn Garfield was a small town attorney, in one of the smallest of towns. To her credit, she was more interested in helping struggling artists and entangled whales than she was in taking big, pay-day cases from Boston-based developers.

89-year-old Gloria Sargent Smith of Yarmouthport, died at sunrise on October 5, surrounded by half-read books, works of art, family members and pets.