I find the word, "purposeful" so new sounding yet so ancient in it's meaning. I love to use it but find it is one of the more difficult words to just plop into a sentence.

I discovered the word and it's usefulness through a dear friend, Fred. 

Fred is someone who I have been talking with over the years; we talk but we never sit down to do that--it's always on the fly when we do spend time talking. Like an exchange of quick thoughts and ideas that flit through the air like dandelion whirly gigs..

One day after I had moved to my new residence on Hill Street in Southampton Village I did have an encounter with Fred that was quite something. He walked up behind my house to the back deck and waved at me through the window....

It was late November and it was still warm; we have just had the most beautiful Indian summer here.

Fred did not have to yell for me to hear him--he was right at the open window and he called out my name in his deep, full throat-ed voice. "Hey-Hey Paula" he said using the same tune as the famous 60's song...He always made me laugh with his sudden bursts into tunes long forgotten. One time he even started to sing an Aria from La Boheme' out of the clear blue--he did have a good voice, untrained as it was!

Fred was walking better now since his fall from his stepladder earlier in the Fall. His bruises were gone from the side of his face and head and he didn't limp quite as severely as he had. Fred was quite the busy handy man. He helped all kinds of people here in the Village and he was always up on something and always had a hammer or wrench in his hand it seemed. 

I walked out onto the porch and pulled up a chair to the table and pointed to another one for him to sit down--never thinking he would--but he did!...eventually.

"I thought I would try to fix that lounge chair for you before you put it away in the garage for the winter--that way you can start using it as soon as Spring comes--you won't have to come looking for me if I'm still around!" 

He pulled at the chair as if he wanted to sit but was too busy to sit. He leaned forward, hands resting on the ladder back of the chair and I could see the fatigue in his form--his shoulders were more forward and his legs crossed one behind the other as he leaned heavily on the chair.

"What?" I said in a loud voice...."What is that supposed to mean? 'if I am still around'" I was taken aback because Fred was never a man to denigrate himself or to make an issue of his health or frequent accidents. He always just moved on and lived as full a life as he always had, as long as I can remember. 

"well, you know you never know what is ahead. I never think about what's ahead for me but now I think I need to start thinking about it because I may want to retire soon and what will I tell everybody here if I were to suddenly just disappear!"

I was shocked at his comments. I never thought of him as retirement age and I don't think he is anywhere near that age but there he was sharing something with me that we had never ever mentioned before. "If you retire before me, I will take it personally" I said in a laugh.

Then he did sit down and he looked at me from across the table and said in his low voice: "I have never planned on retiring. My Father never retired--he worked right up to the day he died...He was a farmer you know--a damn good one too.  Raised cattle, chickens and ducks, you know." 

"No I didn't" I said. "You mean you were actually raised on a working farm?" We had never discussed his early years as I said before. "Well, not really. I was away at school most of my  life" 

"AWAY at school?" I said in disbelief...He was still looking right at me. "Yes" he said and then he did look away--he looked as far away as I have ever seen him look. "You know when I was a boy, my Mother was very sick. She had something called Lupus and then she developed a form of cancer that no one could figure out but they treated her for many years for this form of cancer before she finally up and died."

He turned back to me and said "I never really knew her because they put me in a school in Connecticut so that I wouldn'tPOTATO TRUCKS be underfoot as she fought her battles. My Dad couldn't care for me and the cattle. I did a lot of work round the farm but Dad was always upset with me because I couldn't do things as well as he could--says he always just had to do it all over after I did it---waste of time!" "So I didn't see her after I left--she died 2 years after I left and I never saw her again!" I saw his whole frame shudder a bit. It was obviously a heavy burden he still carried. His Mother  was a stranger to him and then she died...He never really knew her.

"What do you think she thought about you going away while she was so sick?" I asked this knowing it would not get an answer but feeling like he wanted to talk about her. He mentioned that he never knew her; twice he said that but he was surely not going to want to talk about her. 

Then he looked up at me and said the most surprising thing: "I never knew her and it really bothers me--somehow I think that had a lot to do with me never marrying. I only knew a woman who was so sick she had nothing to do with me. That left a mark" He said that with an emphasis and look of deep concern came over his face. "I guess I feel like I ran away from her; but I didn't run away from her, there was no place for me on the farm--with my Dad!"

My heart stopped for a moment as I thought he was going to break down--his chin even quivered a bit and he swallowed hard. Then he said "You know, I was a child prodigy of sorts. I was a Choir Boy in the church and I was looked upon as the one person in the church who would amount to something someday--with my voice and all" "That's why they shipped me off to a private school so that I could use my voice for a higher purpose". He leaned back and broke into a long, low hummm...then he began to sing in his deep rich voice a piece of music I recognized from many years ago. It is called Rienzis Prayer  from a very famous Wagnerian opera "Reinzi".

Fred stopped his beautiful solo of this unfinished aria (It was  an early Wagner, his 3rd opera that he never completed --the original score was burned in the fires of Dresden during that unfinished aria--a prayer to the Almighty to ease the pain of "loss".) he turned away and I knew that he had just done something that I could not comprehend the meaning of.

"Where did you learn to sing so beautifully?" I asked, moved beyond all other words--he had just sung something so hauntingly beautiful that I was "struck" by it---as if a bolt of lightening had just struck me. 

"I was a part of the Trinity Men and Boys Choir in New Haven Connecticut. I sang with them, traveled all over the world really; much time spent in UK--all over the UK. My Aunt Vivian lived in New Haven and I was sent to live with her at the age of 8. My music learning began in the little church here in Southampton Village, over near the train"..."Oh, you mean Our Lady of Poland Church, right?"...he nodded then he drifted away from me; deep in thought he nodded again as if he were seeing something from a long distance. His whole countenance changed again as he sat forward on the chair, elbows on his knees and head bowed over his clasped hands "It really was a calling you know. I could not live without my music. Don't know how much longer I can do it--I am 55 now, oh no it's 56 now---I turned 56 in September--the 19th."

My mind suddenly spun out of control--September 19th??? "That's my birthday!" I said in utter surprise--"I didn't know we have the same birthday! Fred, do you know that we have known each other almost 20 years now and I never knew we have the same birthday!!" He was not as surprised as I was.

He could not sit any longer and he moved toward getting up. "Here, Fred...Have some lemonade, I forgot to ask you if you wanted some". I made a gesture toward the pitcher and he shook his head no. "I want to go now. I have spent much too much time on myself here. I need to go to Fowler's to get some shrubs for the back yard--I have to make sure they go in now so that come spring they will be strong and grow to cover the house behind mine." With that he got up and took a huge step off the porch and disappeared around the corner of the house---Gone! He was shy, embarrassed that he had shared so much with me--I felt as though I had just met him. He was a total stranger before today and now what was I to do with this new person? 

As the days moved into one of the coldest and snowiest winters in memory, I found that there were so many stories about this man called Fred. He was known in the Village as a man of great faith, a religious man of great depth and devotion to the church. He sang in many choir groups and he led prayer groups at the little Catholic church near the train. 

I still to this day can not believe what I heard in my back yard; it seems he did break into song on many occasions. The Village knows him for his moments of great song--in the park on a windy Wednesday night he sang the complete aria from the Pearl Fishers--another favorite of mine.

Many times he was invited to sing at the Dune Church, on the ocean (the oldest church on the East End) for special services, some weddings too.

This day, I discovered a man of complete and total purpose. He was singing from his heart at any unexpected moment--He would take a song from the day and make it entirely his own--a masterpiece by the end of it and he had a way of making a message in his song that needed to be heard by someone--anyone who needed to hear it. 

An angel? Perhaps; I never had anyone sing to me  before, especially an aria that I remember from my youth--a song that no one else knows! A prayer; A song so obscure that only an opera buff would know it and he sang it to perfection. 

This was the last time I saw Fred, until that day in the back yard with his homemade sled. Dead of winter and it was freezing! Fred has cancer I hear, and now I wonder when I will see him again. I don't even know where he lives!

Always on the run, this man of purpose--doing things for others, always!...And the voice of an angel!

Now, that is a quiet man; a purposeful man with a purposeful life!!




                                     **ALL INFORMATION AND CONTENT IN THIS BLOG IS ORIGINAL TO PAULA I. HATHAWAY.  The views expressed herein are my personal views and do not reflect the views of Douglas Elliman Real Estate


Paula I. Hathaway, Senior Broker Associate, Douglas Elliman Real Estate

Southamtpon Village Real Estate Specialist since 1995;  Also Specializes in North Sea, Noyac, Water Mill and Bridgehampton, New York

Diamond , Gold and Chairman's Circle Awards; Top Producer since 2005


Click here to see my Hampton's website to see all my listings; please email me or call me for all your real estate needs in Southampton, Bridgehampton and Watermill:



Comment balloon 17 commentsPaula Hathaway, REALTOR, LBA • May 17 2018 10:23PM
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