Hello, my name is Dr. Byron Pigley Crudell
and I was Lois’s boss at Fairfield University. Actually, Lois called me Byron Pigley Crudell because that was
the name on letterhead that was sent to our office soon after I arrived to
Connecticut. She never let me forget it.
Over the last week I’ve been thinking about
this nickname and how the Great Whatever has
a wonderful sense of humor – a sense of humor that was shared with Lois Carol
Minto and was appreciated by everyone who knew her. Any one of you who tried to
text how today’s celebration would be at Testos understands exactly what I mean.
Spellcheck automatically changes Testos to testicles
or testosterone. Or, if you saw Pam
Kelley trip on Lois’s front lawn this week or witnessed her flying headfirst after
chasing down a balloon for Lois at Fairfield University, you would know the
humor I’m talking about. For me, personally, the 35-pound opossum that chose to
get hit by a car and settle at the end of my driveway for this past week and
the 28 spiders I’ve relocate to outside my home in the past 48 hours are also evidence
of this humor. That, and the tooth I cracked
when biting into lasagna at Patty Ann’s on Saturday, remind me of Lois’s sense
of humor. All week long I’ve been thinking, “Okay, Lois…an opossum, really? Lasagna?
That’s like biting into yogurt.” All week I’ve been imagining that Lois is watching
me take a shower while she eats Bon Bons from above…laughing, laughing.
laughing, all because she can. Yes, a few minutes with Lois Carol Minto and one
could easily believe in the humor of life. A few minutes with Lois and you
believed in the magic of being alive – she had the knack for finding good in
absolutely everything and this is what I’ve been reflecting upon this week
while trying to process the reality that my administrative assistant: my
colleague, my neighbor, and my friend, will no longer keep me laughing, keep me
grounded, and keep me focused on what matters most in this world. Yes, my name
is Byron Pigley Crudell and it is an honor to speak fondly of Lois today.
I’ve been trying to remember how it is,
exactly, that Lois and I bonded. The precise moment, however, was never
recorded. Instead, I am only able to recall how quickly I realized that instead
of having someone who worked for me,
I had some one who worked with me. Lois
was the sort of exceptional person who could read people and know exactly what they
needed. Together, we worked for the Connecticut Writing Project at Fairfield to
invest in teachers and students as writers. We promoted literacy for all, and
those of you who witnessed us in action saw how we also promoted laughter. Lois
and I discovered a mutual sense of humor early on when we realized how we needed
to get going in order to keep our jobs. See, soon after we took positions with
the National Writing Project in Connecticut, the National Writing Project lost its
federal funding. I looked to her for answers but she quickly responded, “Well,
you’d better do something because I really need this job.” Lois decided we could
make a commercial to plead our case to the masses. Within seconds we fired up
her computer to film. It was a horrible idea. The two of us are lousy actors
and simply seeing ourselves on screen caused us to start laughing. In our first
and only attempt at the commercial idea, I began, “Hi, this is Bryan and this
is Lois. We both need your money because we have had zero luck playing
Powerball.” Lois then began to beat box in the background. I had no idea at the
time that my administrative assistant was Flava Flav and before I knew it I was
hearing her go, Boo chik a chik a Boo.
Boo chik a chik a boo while doing the some fierce break dance moves. Then
she burst out laughing and the tears came rolling down her cheek. She held up
her bowl of grapes and we announced we were selling grapes for a $100 a piece.
I think we were doomed from getting any work done ever since.
No, actually, that is a lie. Lois was,
by far, the most incredible assistant in the world and her efficiency,
professionalism, and organization helped the Connecticut Writing Project to
land back on its feet in a very short time. Within a year, she helped me to
write grants that brought our project over $120,000. Just this Wednesday, too,
I learned that representatives Rosa DeLauro, Jim Himes, Joe Courtney, and
Elizabeth Esty, all from Connecticut, signed a letter in Congress to ask others
to support the professional work we do. It was Lois who arranged time for me to
meet with each of them in Washington, D.C. and it was Lois who organized my hotel
and transportation. It was also Lois who worked with the two other sites in
Connecticut to unify our needs. Lois’s meticulous eye for details made this
achievement possible.
Lois
always thought of better ways to bring programs to more people. She was smart,
clever, and persistent - skills she used when creating the Stratford STARS dog
festival, as well. Although she pleaded
and almost convinced me to dress up as a giant dog for the event, I resisted. Rumor
is, though, that Pam was less successful and she still wears the dog costume
once a month in Monroe.
I moved to Fairfield in June of 2011
and Lois was the first person to reach out to me and to show me around. As a
result, I found a home near hers and, with ingenuity and sure luck, I managed
to sucker Lois with a dinnertime scheme I used to pull on my sisters in
Syracuse, New York. See, I benefited from living near my sisters while I worked
on my dissertation. I grew into the habit of coincidentally stopping by their homes at the very same time they
were about to eat dinner. This is a graduate school ploy that works really well,
especially when one doesn’t have a lot of money. In Stratford, I began to time
my runs so that I would jog by Lois’s house just as she was getting Luis off his
bike to come inside and clean up. Lois would offer me a glass of water and, lo
and behold, somehow I would also be fed a hamburger, some coleslaw and, on good
nights, an ice cream sundae, too. Soon, it became a habit for Lois and I to
take Luis out to dinner or for me to barbecue on their grill, and last summer,
I challenged them both to help me try every ice cream parlor along the Long
Island Sound. I was making money again and it was a lot easier for me to contribute.
As a result, Lois began to transcend the role as my assistant. Soon, she became
family. Even GiGi, Luis’s great grandmother and Lois’s mom, succumbed to the quirky
ways of Byron Pigley Crudell. This winter, in fact, Gigi even knitted me a
winter hat I could wear when I run and, I’ve come to learn, any time I want it
she has a plate of lasagna for me. Gigi is an appreciative, caring,
kind-hearted, empathetic, shining start – proof that apples don’t fall far from
the tree. Lois was definitely her daughter. Their love of baked goods is even more
evidence. Lois was a loving soul….
….except when I cracked my knuckles,
creased paper in her presence, or accidentally scared her by hiding behind the
door in our office and popping out at her when she returned from the bathroom.
Then Lois would slap me upside the head and snap, “Don’t ever do that again.”
The slap was much better than the silent treatment she gave after I conducted a
grocery car race with Luis at Big Y. We were shopping for a picnic and Luis and
I were having fun. Lois, however, was not amused.
It is my nature to be on the go and to
have multiple tasks needing to be accomplished at once. My character flaw since
the time I was born is that I stop too little to relax. When I do chill out, though, I’ve always done so
with the people who keep me grounded the most. For these reasons, I spent many
of my best nights in Connecticut sitting on Lois’s back porch with her listening
to the cicadas, looking for the faces she saw in trees, and hearing her stories
– oh, the stories – about growing up with Patti Ann, Mary Beth, June, and Pammy
in Gigi’s Bridgeport home. On Lois’s patio I heard about her friends, her
nieces, her nephews, and her cousins. The names: Noelle. Marlee. Patrick.
Shauna. Nick. Kaitlin. Julia, and Hayley became music for the fond ways that
Lois spoke. Slowly, in a short time, I began to meet these people that mattered
to her most and I felt fortunate that they shared St. Lois with me.
Thinking about what I wanted to say
today I realized I needed to edit the last year and a half rather quickly
because Lois was central to every second of my time here. I could narrate the
story of how Lois convinced me to climb into her attic one afternoon because
she was convinced the previous owner hid money there - she “swore” she heard loose
change falling in the drywall of her closet. I could narrate the story of how I
helped build a canopy along her fence to block out that bastard-of-a-neighbor
of hers. I could share the time we both played hooky from work and raided Pam’s
house (and yes, Pam, this was ALL Lois’s idea, but Patrick helped). I could
also talk about last Thursday night when Luis asked his Aunt what midget meant and Lois explained that it
was a very short person. She used her IPad to get an image to teach her great
nephew. You can imagine her face when she landed on several
not-so-child-friendly internet sites – let’s just say she covered the screen fast
and then laughed, and laughed, and laughed. That was Lois.
Another story I’m narrating over and
over again in my head is about Lois’s use of her computer to send memorable,
unforgettable emails in video forms. She wore wigs and glasses or plotted with
Luis to make mashed potatoes in her bathtub. She made arrangements to have me
fired so she could have my job. She told stories of how everyone on campus
thought the two of us were dating and that she had a reputation to keep. In
all, Lois maintained brilliant wit and a contagious laughter, both of which
will stay with me for life. To know Lois Minto was to know happiness. As an
angel on earth, she took what was given to her and fought with a mission of kindness.
She picked everyone up when they were down, checked on them when they were
troubled, and enjoyed their company when they were present.
On my living room wall is a giant piece
of art that Lois and Luis gave me for my last birthday. Once upon a time it was a painting
of three ducks in bonnets carrying picnic baskets – the silliest piece of art I’d
ever seen. Lois convinced me to buy it as a joke while we were at a Goodwill
one day. Actually, Lois convinced me I needed the frame for an art project I
did with my undergrad and graduate students. For six months, however, the ducks
stayed in basement. Then she thought it would be hysterical to give the ducks as
a gift during the annual Christmas Yankee swap at work. The painting is huge
and it took all of my power to wrap it and to fit it in my car to bring to the
party. I cursed her for the idea but I drove it to the party. I cursed her even
more when, after all the gifts were finally swapped, Lois decided she wanted
the ugly ducklings for her house. Guess
who had to drive the painting all the way back to Stratford? Yup. Byron
Pigley Crudell.
Ah, but there was a reason and that was the
way Lois operated. For my birthday, February 16th in case any of you
want to take me out to dinner next year, Lois once again returned the duck
painting to my house. After the Christmas party, Lois began a special art project
for her and Luis to do together. The two of them first painted over the three ducks
in red and let it dry. Then, for several weeks, the two of them painted marbles
and played games across the canvas with paintbrushes. Slowly and surely, the duck
painting transformed into a piece modern art made from their love together. It
looks a lot like hyperactive sperms and eggs to me, but I love it. I appreciate
that Lois, with her tremendous love for Luis, made it especially for me. The
picture has quickly become an emblem of everything Lois: bright colors, extensive
creativity, tremendous collaboration, and an irreplaceable willingness to bring
magic to everyone she knows.
The night before Lois left us (and after
she did a Google search for “midgets”), the two of us worked with Luis on his alphabet
letters and homework for school. We reminded Luis that the left hand makes an L
and that the L stands for Lois. But, the L also stands for Luis, we told him. And,
lo and behold, an L also begins the word, Love. L-O-V-E. Love.
Today, Lois, you need to know that all
of us really ‘L’ you. You have united us with the importance of I.L.Y. and for
that Dr. Byron Pigley Crudell is most thankful. I. L. Y. today, tomorrow and always. You offered us so much in your life.
