GLADY AND AUNT ERNA: ~ABOUT THEM~---document-links---pictures---related pages---site navigation
I have a page for Non-family Woods Hole folks: NON-FAMILY: WOODS HOLE FOLKS. Strictly speaking, Glady and Aunt Erna belong there, but they get a page of their own, because - because.
Glady was born on July 27, 1903, in Illinois - Chicago, I assume. Her father, George S Green, was born in Missouri, and her mother, Marion, was born in New York. Her mother died relatively young; I don't yet know when, but she's listed in the 1920 census, so Glady would have remembered her.
Glady and her father rented a house in Woods Hole in the 1930s, and liked it enough so that they bought a summer house on Buzzards Bay there very soon afterwards. They called it Vagabond House, and it was around the corner from Fernbank. A very easy walk for a child in a bathing suit. I remember being four years old (it is quite clear to me that I was four years old) and standing way out on the sandbar at low tide with my mother and Aunt Alma and a few others, and maybe learning to swim.
Erna was born in Germany on May 25, 1886. I don't know her original name. She married Herman Reichmann, and shipping records suggest that she and Herman came to the US around 1910. Herman was a hospital administrator in New York, and Erna assisted him, though I don't know exactly what her role was. There's an obituary for him saying he died in Florida on May 24, 1938 at the age of 56, having come from New York six weeks before.
Erna never lost her German accent, although we had no trouble understanding her. She told a story about knitting socks for the soldiers in World War I, and taking them to wherever one took knitted goods for the soldiers. The receiving officer heard her accent, and asked what kind of stitch she used. A German stitch, of course. He refused the socks.
Erna was hired to help nurse Glady's father through his last illness, around 1950, and stayed for the rest of her life. We children called her Aunt Erna. I remember figuring out, with some surprise, that Aunt Erna was not, in fact, my aunt.
She died on September 4, 1981.
Glady and her father rented a house in Woods Hole in the 1930s, and liked it enough so that they bought a summer house on Buzzards Bay there very soon afterwards. They called it Vagabond House, and it was around the corner from Fernbank. A very easy walk for a child in a bathing suit. I remember being four years old (it is quite clear to me that I was four years old) and standing way out on the sandbar at low tide with my mother and Aunt Alma and a few others, and maybe learning to swim.
Erna was born in Germany on May 25, 1886. I don't know her original name. She married Herman Reichmann, and shipping records suggest that she and Herman came to the US around 1910. Herman was a hospital administrator in New York, and Erna assisted him, though I don't know exactly what her role was. There's an obituary for him saying he died in Florida on May 24, 1938 at the age of 56, having come from New York six weeks before.
Erna never lost her German accent, although we had no trouble understanding her. She told a story about knitting socks for the soldiers in World War I, and taking them to wherever one took knitted goods for the soldiers. The receiving officer heard her accent, and asked what kind of stitch she used. A German stitch, of course. He refused the socks.
Erna was hired to help nurse Glady's father through his last illness, around 1950, and stayed for the rest of her life. We children called her Aunt Erna. I remember figuring out, with some surprise, that Aunt Erna was not, in fact, my aunt.
She died on September 4, 1981.
SATURDAY NIGHT PICNICS AT VAGABOND
Other than Glady's beach, the thing people remember about her is the Saturday night picnics in the summertime.
As I understand it (but this is from before I was born), originally the Saturday night picnics not always held at Vagabond House. I think they were probably started by Alma, because Alma loved picnics, and Saturday evening would have been a good time for one, when there were weekend visitors at Fernbank and people were finished doing their swimming and fishing and walking around and whatever else they did in Woods Hole. I think the picnics were often held out at Nobska.
But eventually it became settled that Saturday night picnics were always held at Glady's house. No invitations were sent out; if you were a friend of Glady's and you were in Woods Hole - or if you were visiting a friend of Glady's in Woods Hole - you went to Vagabond at 6pm on Saturday evening.
There was a long picnic table in Glady's back yard, between the house and the path to the beach. It was made festive by the use of the Tablecloth. This was a white tablecloth with a flower pattern, and if you came to a Saturday night picnic, Glady embroidered your name onto the Tablecloth. It would be on the table when we arrived for the Saturday night picnic, and it was fun to walk around and find the names of people we knew, and of people who had died but who lived on in the Tablecloth. I remember that Sarah Gregory, a friend from my home town, came in the 1960s when she was a teenager. After dinner she signed the Tablecloth. Glady decided that dark green would be a good color for Sarah, and Glady embroidered Sarah's name into the Tablecloth on Sarah's signature as we all sat and talked. And now both Glady and Sarah are gone.
Here are pictures of the Tablecloth, which actually, as it turns out, doesn't have a flower pattern:
GLADY'S PICNIC TABLECLOTH
What was served at Saturday night picnics? Swordfish sandwiches on snowflake rolls, with tartar sauce. Aunt Erna grilled the swordfish in bacon fat. I don't remember the bacon fat myself, but I'm told that's what it was, and it certainly fits Aunt Erna's cooking: delicious, German-type, and completely unconcerned with what we in the 21st century might regard as a healthy diet.
The grill she used, in the beginning, was a built-in outdoor grill. That setup didn't last forever. The story is that the next-door neighbors asked for permission from Glady to build an extension to their house that was close enough to Glady's property line so that permission was needed. Glady gave it - and lived to regret it. The outdoor grill was close to the property line - had been there for decades - but with the addition to the neighbors' house in place, they complained about the fire hazard. So Aunt Erna cooked the swordfish inside in the kitchen after that.
Other than Glady's beach, the thing people remember about her is the Saturday night picnics in the summertime.
As I understand it (but this is from before I was born), originally the Saturday night picnics not always held at Vagabond House. I think they were probably started by Alma, because Alma loved picnics, and Saturday evening would have been a good time for one, when there were weekend visitors at Fernbank and people were finished doing their swimming and fishing and walking around and whatever else they did in Woods Hole. I think the picnics were often held out at Nobska.
But eventually it became settled that Saturday night picnics were always held at Glady's house. No invitations were sent out; if you were a friend of Glady's and you were in Woods Hole - or if you were visiting a friend of Glady's in Woods Hole - you went to Vagabond at 6pm on Saturday evening.
There was a long picnic table in Glady's back yard, between the house and the path to the beach. It was made festive by the use of the Tablecloth. This was a white tablecloth with a flower pattern, and if you came to a Saturday night picnic, Glady embroidered your name onto the Tablecloth. It would be on the table when we arrived for the Saturday night picnic, and it was fun to walk around and find the names of people we knew, and of people who had died but who lived on in the Tablecloth. I remember that Sarah Gregory, a friend from my home town, came in the 1960s when she was a teenager. After dinner she signed the Tablecloth. Glady decided that dark green would be a good color for Sarah, and Glady embroidered Sarah's name into the Tablecloth on Sarah's signature as we all sat and talked. And now both Glady and Sarah are gone.
Here are pictures of the Tablecloth, which actually, as it turns out, doesn't have a flower pattern:
GLADY'S PICNIC TABLECLOTH
What was served at Saturday night picnics? Swordfish sandwiches on snowflake rolls, with tartar sauce. Aunt Erna grilled the swordfish in bacon fat. I don't remember the bacon fat myself, but I'm told that's what it was, and it certainly fits Aunt Erna's cooking: delicious, German-type, and completely unconcerned with what we in the 21st century might regard as a healthy diet.
The grill she used, in the beginning, was a built-in outdoor grill. That setup didn't last forever. The story is that the next-door neighbors asked for permission from Glady to build an extension to their house that was close enough to Glady's property line so that permission was needed. Glady gave it - and lived to regret it. The outdoor grill was close to the property line - had been there for decades - but with the addition to the neighbors' house in place, they complained about the fire hazard. So Aunt Erna cooked the swordfish inside in the kitchen after that.
I imagine it was after the issue with the Woods Hole neighbors that Glady bought the property lot behind her house in Miami Beach, where she lived in the winter. My brother Roger reports that she was thinking about buying it, but the price was unreasonable. Our father (Will's younger son Roger) said to her: "What do you care? You can afford it." Glady recognized the truth of that and bought the lot.
And, yes, Glady had money, inherited from her father, and she used it in fun ways. I remember a camera that spat out prints before anybody else had such cameras. I remember the power windows in her car. When I was a child, power windows in a car were unheard of - except in Glady's car. So cool. I'm sure there is much more that I don't remember, and I would love to hear about it.
I mentioned this web page to my siblings, saying "What I'm still mulling over is how to convey what she was like." My brother Roger responded:
I can remember a time when I thought she was the nicest person I knew. Memories fade, and I’ve met a lot of people since then, and maybe I’m less judgmental now. So while I guess she was never surpassed, I no longer keep score. She retired as champ.
A while later, my cousin Barbara the family genealogist emailed me about Glady and Aunt Erna with some information that I've included here, saying:
I just loved them so dearly, they were so kind especially the summers I was with Aunt Eva, but they weren’t blood relatives so I had no real reason to research them since I had no where to put any information I found. And now I can send things to you and you can decide what to include 😊.
That will have to do for now.
Glady died on March 22, 1988. She was 84 years old, but I don't remember ever having a feeling of her being an old lady.
There's more to remember in general about Glady and Aunt Erna, but for now, here's a link to what my mother said about Glady: 1988 EDIE'S EULOGY FOR GLADY
And, yes, Glady had money, inherited from her father, and she used it in fun ways. I remember a camera that spat out prints before anybody else had such cameras. I remember the power windows in her car. When I was a child, power windows in a car were unheard of - except in Glady's car. So cool. I'm sure there is much more that I don't remember, and I would love to hear about it.
I mentioned this web page to my siblings, saying "What I'm still mulling over is how to convey what she was like." My brother Roger responded:
I can remember a time when I thought she was the nicest person I knew. Memories fade, and I’ve met a lot of people since then, and maybe I’m less judgmental now. So while I guess she was never surpassed, I no longer keep score. She retired as champ.
A while later, my cousin Barbara the family genealogist emailed me about Glady and Aunt Erna with some information that I've included here, saying:
I just loved them so dearly, they were so kind especially the summers I was with Aunt Eva, but they weren’t blood relatives so I had no real reason to research them since I had no where to put any information I found. And now I can send things to you and you can decide what to include 😊.
That will have to do for now.
Glady died on March 22, 1988. She was 84 years old, but I don't remember ever having a feeling of her being an old lady.
There's more to remember in general about Glady and Aunt Erna, but for now, here's a link to what my mother said about Glady: 1988 EDIE'S EULOGY FOR GLADY
GLADY AND AUNT ERNA: about-them---~DOCUMENT LINKS~---pictures---related pages---site navigation
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GLADY AND AUNT ERNA: about-them---document-links---~PICTURES~---related pages---site navigation

My brother Roger says: "I probably took this picture of Glady and Aunt Erna when I was about 10 with a little Kodak point and shoot. Unlike Glady, I was a terrible photographer, and I have many pictures to prove it. This one was always my favorite, although the colors have faded a bit in the 60 intervening years." The dog was a cocker spaniel named Gypsy. This is on the steps up to the doors to the porch.
GLADY AND AUNT ERNA: about-them---document-links---pictures---~RELATED PAGES~---site navigation
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