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Faith Baldwin writes about Gladys Taber

As I mentioned in another entry, I have quite a few of the books that Gladys's friend, Faith Baldwin, wrote. I'm going to post some of the things Faith wrote about Gladys in her books. She mentions her frequently, so I'll just post a few things that are more than a word or two. As I run across them, I'll just add to this entry rather than starting another. So if this interests you, keep checking back!

From Testament of Trust...

~~Often, when old family problems increase or new ones spring up, like dandelions in May, I don't, as Gladys Taber says, know which way is from me.

~~Nowadays, my yachting, so to speak, has been confined to watching boats when I'm on Cape Cod, or going on a day's fishing trip, or admiring the way Gladys Taber paddles a canoe.

~~Then, of course, I think of Gladys and Eleanor whose house has always been open to me. Eleanor went away last January, but so strong was the impact of this gentle, quiet, rock-firm, understanding woman upon everyone who knew her that, for us, she has just gone next door. We are the poorer for her going, Heaven, the richer. And nothing is ever really lost, no valid friendship and love.


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Mar. 7th, 2008 08:52 pm (UTC)
From Many Windows: Seasons of the Heart
From Many Windows: Seasons of the Heart...

~~My younger friend, Gladys Taber, strides out with a swift, almost frightening determination, no matter how cold it is. She and her Irish setter have mermaid blood. But I am content, while my toes turn blue, to paddle around in the shallows and pick up driftwood or look for shells.

~~It is a strange thing--I do not like the ordinary wind, strong and gusty, especially in winter, nor the eerie sounds it makes in the chimneys--yet in the untamed wind of hurricanes, and the tons of falling, blowing rain, I have struggled out to a car or walked, bent double, down the hill to pool my emergency resources with my friends, Gladys and Eleanor.

~~In September, as in other months, Gladys Taber takes me out after supper. We drive to the post office and note, after Labor Day, how tranquil the village, the tumult and shouting of the busy season having died. Sometimes we go to look from heights up on beaches which fringe the ocean, at the Coast Guard Station on Nauset Light...

Mar. 7th, 2008 09:09 pm (UTC)
Re: From Many Windows: Seasons of the Heart
I HAVE to get that one!

Who was Eleanor?
Mar. 7th, 2008 09:22 pm (UTC)
Re: From Many Windows: Seasons of the Heart
She was 'Jill' in the Stillmeadow books. Her real name was Eleanor.
Mar. 7th, 2008 09:32 pm (UTC)
Re: From Many Windows: Seasons of the Heart
Thanks! That seems to have escaped my notice.
I'm sure you could win any Stillmeadow trivia contest on the planet. :)
I've thoroughly enjoyed your posts here today. My husband is about to come home soon, so I'll have to wrench myself away from this wonderful daydreaming experience. *sigh*
Mar. 7th, 2008 08:53 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much for posting these comments.
They had such a close and rich friendship!
Mar. 7th, 2008 09:06 pm (UTC)
From Living by Faith
From Living by Faith...

~~Gladys Taber and I do them on the Cape (crossword puzzles). At least she does, but now and then she permits me to fill in a word, which usually she erases, as she's much better at this pastime than I am. I think I can hold my own with her when it comes to jigsaw puzzles.

~~One thing I'm sure of, no matter what I bring or do not bring to Gladys Taber's house on the cove, is a welcome.

~~How often I have stood with my comrades, Gladys and Eleanor, near Nauset Light and watched, as Gladys always says, "the waves come in from Spain."
Mar. 7th, 2008 09:21 pm (UTC)
Harvest of Hope
From Harvest of Hope...

~~August makes me think of Cape Cod, where the Spartan roses grow by Gladys Taber's door--I have a few, which were gifts, but they cannot measure up to hers... I can, as always, recapture the look of sand and water, the smell of sun and bayberry, the faces of friends, the trips to the village, the little outings, and the walks with Gladys' Irish on the narrow curving beach. At least I walk; she runs.

~~Sometime during this month (November) or very early next, I'll be going, I hope, to see Gladys Taber, not on the Cape, but at Stillmeadow, and hour and a half away by car. We will sit by the fire, near the enormous very old hearth, and we'll talk of all that has taken place since we last saw each other. There'll be a little shop talk, too, but not much, although we are both writers; mostly we will talk of times remembered and friendships unforgotten, of our children and their children and of places and people. We'll watch a little TV and maybe go out to dinner once if the weather permits; we'll sleep late in the morning and stay up late at night, as friends will. And I'll walk down to the mailbox and bring back the mail in a basket while Holly races around the yard, not being permitted the dangers of the road. The Irish will be glad to see me and will imagine, of course, that she's a lap dog and come bounding up to sit on my knees while I tell Gladys about Bermuda, for she has friends and relatives there.... So I hope the weather holds and I can go before the time of the turkey, or before December storms... If I can't, I'll be sorry, but I'll 'make do' through telephone calls and postage stamps.
Mar. 7th, 2008 09:33 pm (UTC)
Face Toward the Spring
From Face Toward the Spring...

~~I was fortunate in being about two minutes away from another writer, Gladys Taber, who is also one of my closest friends. We like the same things. We swam together and took her canoe out to paddle and fish. We enjoy the same food (Gladys is a fabulous cook) and we are both addicted to reading. Our literary tastes aren't always the same, but it is wonderful to sit and argue about them. And as writers we could 'talk shop' by the hour and understand each other perfectly.
Mar. 7th, 2008 10:03 pm (UTC)
Evening Star
From Evening Star...

~~And on the Cape in September, I had advance birthday gifts. One, Gladys Taber gave me; an enchanting driftwood panel with a suggested Cape landscape, which I can't describe; you'd have to see it for yourself. I brought it home, wrapped in a nightgown and sturdy brown paper, flat on the floor of the car. I reached the house in time to wash my face and stretch my muscles, and then go out to dinner. At eight that night the luggage remained unpacked and the mail unopened, while I snatched a row of books from a living-room bookshelf and set my panel therein. There was room for two books at one end, so I found the right ones--the wonderful book called The House on Nauset Marsh by Wyman Richardson, given me by my friend Eleanor many years ago; and The Clammer by William John Hopkins.

~~One such (cookbook) is Gladys Taber's Stillmeadow Cookbook. I can read that, think myself back to Stillmeadow itself, the old old house in the woods, the hills and meadows, and the Cape, and relive the years of our friendship. My favorite supper dish is in the book. How often have I asked her: "Isn't it time for the fried tomatoes, bacon, and cream gravy?" So she prepares it for me. I am hurt to the quick that it is not entitled 'Faithie's Favorite'.

~~That year Gladys Taber and Eleanor also came to Williamsburg and we made many little excursions together, looking at gardens open to the public, driving to the beautiful Jefferson mansion, and picnicking in the grounds of the house that had belonged to Pocahontas' husband. The grass was full of violets--the pale blue-gray and white variety--and we were permitted to dig up some plants to take home. They grew pretty well on my place but not nearly as well as at Gladys' where after all these years, they have spread and spread in the grass and on the terrace and by the well.

~~Perhaps my sister will let me do a puzzle with her; she's generous about puzzles. Gladys Taber and I do them, too, but Gladys guards hers jealously. Once in a while, if she is in the study wing, working and I'm alone in the living room I sneak over to her special place on the couch and steal the clip board to which a puzzle is always fixed. Then I put in a word or two, hoping I can solve something she hasn't. When she returns, she regards the clip board with a lifted eyebrow and is quite happy, I think, when she determines that my words is incorrect and then, gleefully, erases it.

~~Gladys Taber often uses a phrase that remains with me. Before we went out she'd carefully list the errands we had to do and the friends we were to see, and as we got into the car she'd say something like, "Then when we come back, and before we go to Millie's, we can take Holly for a run on the beach; and there might be time to stop by and see Helen, and still come out even." And when we finally returned home, if we'd succeeded in our endeavors, she'd say triumphantly, "See? We did come out even!" Yet she'd left it flexible. Sometimes we didn't quite make it, but she knew that on the list there'd be something we could catch up with the next day.
Mar. 7th, 2008 10:05 pm (UTC)
As I was paging through Faith's books this afternoon, I decided that they really are about the closest things to the Stillmeadow books that I've found. I'm sure that's partly because Faith and Gladys were friends and are writing during the same period. They write about a lot of the same things, but their experiences and way of presenting them come from different perspectives.

I'm going to have to find time to reread these more thoroughly soon!
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