To Be Read For Lois Today - R.I.P. & I.L.Y

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 16^th 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.