Stories about Libbie, Lib, Bubbe
If you have a thought or a story that you'd like to share,
please do. I'd love to hear from you!
From:
Evie Taylor (June 30, 2023)
Happy Birthday
Another birthday. Memories of The Lake and celebrating with you. So many times that familiar ache takes over: wanting to share some news or find some sisterly solace when days are gray. Somehow I know you're there watching. "Kvelling" over your accomplished daughter who seems to know just what to do at exactly the right time. Seeing your cherished grands move forward in their lives with a little nudge now and then from a mom who learned that from you. To say you are missed is such a gross understatement. With every year I feel isolated one step more, having no one who can share the life we lived together. No one to answer a question or a phone call. I fervently hope this IS something after this life. Some place, some time where we can all just BE together again. 'Til then, happy birthday, Lib. Love you.
From:
Evie Taylor (June 30, 2022)
Happy Birthday
June 30. Another year without you. Opening this site and seeing you in your garden gives me goosebumps. You look as if I could call out, Hey, Lib!" and your head would pop up with a big smile on your face. I want to tell you, big Sister, now that I'm the elder, it sucks! I'm not wise enough to handle this role. There is no one with whom to mutually share old memories. Questions I have others aren't old enough to have the answers. You were always the one with the most perseverance; the one with a ready answer to any query. It wasn't always what I wanted to hear, but it was given through your heart. We quarreled, forgave, laughed and cried together. No one can take your place. You were a "oner," Lib. I wish I'd told you more often how much I loved you.♥
From:
Michael (May 29, 2022)
In my thoughts today
I have never forgotten her. I was/am ADHD and as a kid, no diagnosis or treatment. That meant I found myself in trouble often. I have wonderful memories of having to sit in her office with her and eat my lunch. Ironically I got to see her in a different light. She was very caring as we talked and I felt comfortable and oddly important during these “punishments” like she just knew. Just wanted to share that today as she passes my thoughts soooo many years after she impacted me.
From:
Evie Taylor (June 30, 2021)
Happy Birthday
It's the day we always celebrated you at "The Lake." Goodies and gifts around the picnic table. Your delight at new surprises. I know as years pass this should be easier. But as the world tightens in around me, I miss you more. Your wisdom, your laughter, your knowing glances as we remembered the same thought at the same time. How I wish we could talk as we often did of things important and inane. You would be even prouder today of Melinda and her family as they have exceeded any possible expectations. Sisters are so special. No one can replace you in my heart. ♥
From:
Evie Taylor
A Note on Mom's Birthday (2019)
Today's your birthday. It gives me goosebumps remembering so many summer days at The Lake when we celebrated YOU ♥. Cakes on the picnic table. Combining our party with the Landos et al. Your joy at opening gifts among the crowd. Trinkets and books, but the ones that lit up your eyes were the clothes. Ever the fashionista, your widening smile with each summer halter, jerseys and bracelets was pure delight. I remember when you told me how Big Harvey proposed. It was December and you were helping him paint his room back at the Lederstein house. At some point he tossed a ribboned sweater box from Kauffmans on the bed and said "Here's your Chanukah gift," Your heart fell. For that one time, you weren't thrilled at getting anything CLOTH. You were so hoping for that special ring box. You told me you were almost in tears and just kept painting until he asked, "Aren't you going to open it?"
Finally you did. One box led to a smaller box and a smaller one and voila! There it was. A tiny jeweler's box with the prettiest, sparkliest, emerald cut diamond on earth! (Music crescendo please). That was the beginning of such excitement for all of us. Your wedding followed at B'nai Israel where the same rabbi who performed Mom and Dad;s wedding, officiated over yours. Bliss. I know it's only a date, and I'm dropping tears on my keyboard now, but I hear your laugh and see your smile and miss you so. So many unshared events and sisterly talks unspoken.I fervently pray there is an afterlife where many are once again gathered around to celebrate this day with you. I'll do it in my heart.
You have shown this family—and the world—how strong and resourceful a woman can be. Your children and grandchildren know you can do anything—especially where love is involved.In this milestone year, know that you are deeply loved and the legacy you have created will live on for generations.
You are one incredible woman, Lib.
I hope this scrapbook gives you just an inkling of what a treasure you are to me.
Love, Evie
From:
Evie Taylor -- a note to her sister on Libbie's 70th birthday, June 2009 (and thank you Aunt Evie -- the scrapbook you made for Mom's 70th gave me so many great pictures that fill the gallery on this site!)
Libbie,
70 is only a number; but you at 70 are phenomenal! You have always been a stellar role model.
I always wanted to be as talented as you, as smart, as coordinated, as musical. I even wanted to be as short and petite as you, All of the above were impossible.
From:
Mark McLaughlin
I remember the first time I met Libbie. It was 1989. Melinda and I were getting very serious and also still working together at the same agency. After a hard week, we got in the car and drove up to Poughkeepsie (really Wappingers Falls) on Friday night to have dinner with Libbie and Joe at the home where Melinda grew up.
Everything started off great but being Irish, after a long week and a long rush hour drive, I was sure looking forward to cocktail hour at Libbie's house. Libbie and Joe were very gracious but I was a bit confused because nobody was even thinking about drinks. Gulp.
Well, I got comfortable enough to wander into the dining room while Libbie was in the kitchen working on dinner and to my delight, there was a cabinet that looked like it just might contain liquor!
Quietly opening the cabinet door, I was delighted to spot a bottle of Dewar's Scotch that was 80% full. Eureka! Getting up my nerve, I said to Libbie; "I noticed you have some Scotch in the cabinet, would you mind if I poured myself a drink?" Libbie's reply still echoes in my ear: "Oh Mark, that would be wonderful, nobody has touched that since Harvey died!"
I knew then and there that Libbie and I were going to get along just fine... and the rest as they say, is a 26 year marriage that is still going strong.
From:
Melinda McLaughlin
This is the speech I gave at my Mom's retirement party (June 1994; Before I became a Mom) ...
I wanted to say a few words to commemorate this important event in my mother's life. While I'm thrilled for her and very eager to see her spend time enjoying herself, I can't really imagine her not working in the Wappingers Central School District. It's who she is. It's what she does. And she has certainly poured her heart and soul into doing the very best job she could.
I grew up proudly proclaiming my Mom as the Assistant Principal at John Jay High School. I thought it was just the greatest thing that she was so important. I was so proud. I didn't care that she couldn't be home in the morning to see me off or be there waiting with cookies at the door when I came home. In fact, it didn't even dawn on me that other Moms did that. From as early as I can remember, I just assumed that being a mother meant taking care of the family, deciding what to take out of the freezer for dinner that night, and being there in the evening to hear about our day and help with our homework.
It was only later in life that I looked back and thought, "my god, did she really do all that?" I will always be amazed at the challenges she tackled and that I never sensed weakness in her. I really can't imagine the grief and hardship of my mother's life in 1973 when my dad passed away suddenly, leaving her with 3 kids who didn't quite understand what was happening. I think that her career, and all of you, pulled her through that time. Her career gave her somewhere to go every day and it forced her to stay strong. And for that, I'm grateful.
By example, my mom taught me that I can do anything. She taught me to be professional and to dress for success :) . She told me to be aggressive and go for what I want but never to forget to consider those around me. Most importantly, she told me to always do the right thing. There was never a question in my mind that I would have a career or that my choices were limited.
And now, when I get a raise or a client approves one of my recommendations, I can't dial my Mom's number fast enough. She is the voice in my head, saying, "you can do it, you have what it takes." I feel very lucky to have her, not just as a Mom, but as a role model. The greatest compliment would be for someone to see me at work and say, "yes, she is definitely her mother's daughter."
So Mom, thank you for instilling all the right values in me. Thank you for being strong and keeping our family together. Thank you for being the kind of role model that every daughter should have and for inspiring me to realize my dreams.
Congratulations on a wonderfully successful career. You deserve this retirement! You've given your all to the school district and now it's time to plant your flowers, lay in the sun, read a magazine and pamper yourself every day.
Finally, thank you all for being so good to my mother. For being her friends and for being her co-workers. I think she will miss you all more than she can say. And I think she will miss John Jay... maybe not every single thing, but her work and all of you have been a very big part of her life. I think I can speak for her and say that she will never forget her career or all of you.
Good luck, Mom. We all love you very much!
From:
Emma McLaughlin
I love you, Bubbe and Grandpa Joe
My earliest memories that I can recall take place in the Cape at Bubbe and Grandpa Joe’s house, which to me, at the time, was full-blown 5-star resort with endless activities and stuff to do.
As I am sure most of you (unfortunately) remember, I was a bit of a drama queen when it came to falling asleep at night. I will never forget my visits to the cape alone when Bubbe and Joe would let me sleep in their bed with them, and once I got larger, on the floor next to the bed. But once I got so old that it became ridiculous for me to request sleeping on their floor anymore, I had to find a new strategy. Every night when I would start to feel that anxiety and irrational fear of sleeping alone creeping in, I would shut my eyes and think about Cape Cod. I would think about the waves at the beach, the boogie boarding, and the hot dog truck. I would think about the Nice Cream Shop and endless fudge from trips to Provincetown. I would think about trips to the pond to take out the canoe, eating chocolate chip pancakes at the diner, laying in the hammock, making stepping stones, playing mini golf, and so much more. These thoughts helped me fall asleep and relax my mind for YEARS, and admittedly, still do.
Now that I am older, I see a completely different side to Bubbe than what I could possibly see as a child living in these care-free, laugh-until-you-can’t-breathe, memories. From the amazing stories you all share about her life, I can now just begin to grasp the kind of loss she faced, the strength she maintained, and the pressure she put on herself to be a perfect woman. None of this came as a shock to me though, it actually put all the pieces together.
I grew up with a mom who, in my eyes, can do no wrong. In similarity to what my mom described in her retirement speech to Bubbe, I ALSO grew up with the understanding that a mom’s job was to go to work and be impressive and successful and still make time to take care of me and heat up chicken nuggets at the end of the day. When I read my mom’s note about her mom’s competitive nature, dedication to perfection, strength, and ability to face adversity, it was almost weird how exactly the description matched the words I would use to describe my own mom.
In a world where we are STILL waiting for true gender equality, I can honestly admit I grew up completely blind to the fact that men had any kind of step-up. I was raised by a line of women who decided they would never wait for a national movement to tell them they could be the most professional, successful, and powerful force in this world. And now, at 22 years old, I use those same words (strong, perfectionist, competitive..) to describe myself and I make no exceptions to the standard of success I will hold myself to.
Bubbe’s legacy is powerful in so many ways, but I can say with all certainty that everything that made her amazing lives on through my amazing mom, and my mom has given me the most amazing gift by instilling it in me.
From:
Rich Caira
Friendship
I have known Libbie and Joe since moving to Poughkeepsie in the early 70's. My first wife Joan and I enjoyed many memorable moments with them.; from playing doubles at Crosscourt, going to Broadway plays together, them visiting us at our Boca Raton home and just having them as friends. Libbie even did some business with Joan in selling skin care products. When we moved to Boca Raton in 1985, Libbie threw a going away party for us at her home.
She was just a wonderful person!! When I remarried in 1999, they attended our wedding in Cary NC. My wife Donna very much enjoyed meeting Libbie and Joe. We visited their home in Wellfleet, met them numerous times in Florida for tennis and lunch, and considered them our friends for many years. We are saddened that they both have left us, but at the same time feel fortunate to have known them.
May they both rest in peace.
From:
Audrey Siegel
May her memory be a blessing
I didn't know Libbie, but I know the daughter that she raised. I know the son-in-law that she trusted to love that daughter. And I know the grandchildren who continue the legacy of a woman who walked the earth, touched the earth, planted the seeds, grew the flowers, and understood that life is hard, that life is worth living despite that hardship. Libbie died on Tu B'Shevat, the Jewish holiday that celebrates the trees, and the fruits that they bear. On this holiday, observing Jews celebrate the seasons, and the passing of one to another.
We begin with a cup of white wine, and we add drops of red wine into the white wine. And as we watch the white turn to pink, and to rose, and eventually to red, we are reminded again that to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. I know that the soul and spirit of Libbie will be honored by those who loved her, and those that she loved. And that my dear friend, the jelly to my peanut butter, will blossom and grow, season to season, with the love of her mother secure in her heart. From me to you, always with love.
From:
Brian Cauley
RIP Libbie
I have fond memories of Libbie. She had a clear, honest face and the bearing of a human would would not lose ground easily. I always enjoyed her point of view. I could see that she was tough on family but that's okay, that's family. She was warm and kind and I will cherish her memory.
From:
Seth McLaughlin
My best memories of Libbie were at the Cape for Thanksgiving. The kids were young and Jessie was also. The beach was magical to Emma with Jessie. Libbie, Evie, and my Mom would cook... but like anyone's house, it was Libbie's kitchen and she was running the show. The Thanksgiving dinners were fantastic. Grandpa Joe was always kind and hospitable. The holiday always seemed particularly relaxing, which is not always the case at family gatherings, even though it should be.
Love, Seth
From:
Chris Kenworthy
I think this was taken in 2009 – Evie would remember the year better than myself.
I won’t forget Libbie – for many reasons -the most recent being the walk through the Audubon Wildlife Preserve in that year, for the incredible tomatoes she grew – and the amazing worm farm!
How she managed that all through winter I’ll never know.
And also for the photo of Libbie and Evie as children that used to hang upstairs in Fulton - with those hairdos! I was always fascinated and drawn to it with every visit.
With love,
Chris Kenworthy
From:
RoseMarie Stark
Libbie was always beautiful, charming, and delightfully strong. She was a rare and memorable person. It's sad to know that the light and joy she brought to the world is gone. But she left the world her beautiful and strong daughter, Mindy! I'm so sorry for your loss but your thoughts that you've shared here demonstrate that your mother left you as her beautiful legacy.
From:
Carolyn Heilweil
My Very Special Friend
I knew that this time would come but now that it is here, it is difficult for me to put my thoughts about Libbie into words. Mel and I met Libbie and Harvey when we were neighbors in Oak Park Gardens in Wappingers Falls in 1960 or '61. Libbie and I were pregnant with our first babies at the same time, but Mitchell came early and Vic was late, so she beat me to the hospital by several weeks! After that, Mel and I shared so many things - the good, the funny, then the tragic - with Harvey's sudden passing, and all that followed, especially Mitchell's tragic death at the age of 34. We always marveled at her amazing resilience, her drive, her capacity to keep on going when "the going" was so very hard!
In later years, after Joe came into her life, Mel and I visited with them on the Cape or they came to us in our new home in Florida. Those were very special times!! (I'm sending a couple of photos of these get-togethers for you, Mindy, to post.) I will always remember this vibrant, bright woman who certainly left her mark on so many of us. May she rest in peace.
From:
Alan and Cathy Gillis
As we remember Libbie, there were many things that stood out about this extraordinary person, who we were honored to have as part of our lives. Physically, she was beautiful but it was her qualities of intelligence and strength that made her a very special person.
As lives are doled out, Libbie had some heartbreaking challenges that could’ve broken many. Despite that, complaints or self-sympathy were not apparent. She forged ahead of each experience with determination and resolve.
One of her qualities we most admired was her love and commitment to family. Not only her own, which she loved beyond measure, but to those of us who were fortunate to be part of her extended family. She made every effort to attend family milestones, such as weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs and reunions. It was her deep-rooted understanding of how precious these moments are in each person’s life and how fortunate we are when we have the opportunity to celebrate and honor one another.
Finally, her love and commitment was most evident in the raising of her three children. Not an easy task, especially as a single parent dealing with the personal loss of her young husband. She did the very best she could to overcome the obstacles set before her. It was her greatest priority to provide for Mitchell, Melinda and Jason.
She ensured their future success by her own perseverance in continuing her education and establishing a career she could maintain while raising her family. As each grandchild was born, her love and commitment became part of each one of their lives. Her family was always the greatest source of love, pride and happiness.
We will greatly miss Libbie, who we loved and admired. As daughters will, Melinda carries on the very essence of her mother. Melinda is imbedded with many of Libbie’s very best qualities so it is through her that our memory of Libbie will live on and for that we are grateful.
From:
Judith Ondrasik Steding
I went to school with Libbie, your mom, from first grade to the 12th grade. Pleasant View to Moon High. I didn’t hang with her but always liked her. She was friendly with everyone. I saw her the last time at our reunion in 2007 at “The Barn at Roselea Farm”and she still looked beautiful. So many of them are gone now. I loved what you wrote about your mom showing how much you loved her. She was a good example to us all.
From:
Fran Shepherd
When Mitchell Was Born
When I saw the photo you that showed Libbie pregnant it reminded me of 1962.Harvey, Libbie and Phil started teaching in WCSD Sept.1961 and Phil and I married in June, 1962. Libbie "mentored" me by showing me how she had envelopes for budget items like food and rent which she admitted she moved money from one to the other as needed. She also taught me how to make tuna noodle casserole (unknown to an Italian girl from LI). One evening we decided to go to see "Lolita" at a movie house in Beacon. Libbie was getting close to her due date and wasn't very comfortable sitting in the movie. The next morning we got call from Harvey, "He's here, it's a boy." What a happy Dad he was. And a week later they moved into 3 Cindy Ln. And so a lifetime friendship started all those years ago and was sustained in good times and bad, in Wappingers and Wellfleet.
Libbie never knew that we used her name as an adjective. Lynn and I would go shopping and say, "that's a Libbie blouse" or "that's a Libbie color". Everyone admired her sense of style. Thank you everyone for the photos. They allow me to go back in time and remember her as I want to remember her--vibrant and strong.
From:
Susan Farrell
When I close my eyes I can see your mom and your dad so vividly. They are young—in their late 30’s or early 40’s and of course at Conneaut Lake. They are both very tan. Your dad was a very handsome man. My friend, Karen and I probably had crushes on him. He was always kidding with us—telling us “moron” jokes like why did the moron do this etc.—maybe not politically correct now, but back then, it made us laugh. I remember receiving a letter from my mom that he had died. I was spending the second semester of my junior year in Vienna. I just could not believe it. I was so devastated. He was so alive and vibrant. I close my eyes again and see your mom with her dark curly hair and glasses. She was a very animated talker. Once when she was talking for some time, all of my sudden my dad said “Stop—I have been timing you and you talked for ___ minutes straight. I forget the number of minutes but your mom laughed and took it in good humor. I also remember one time they were playing the game “perquakey”. There were dice that had letters on them and you had to make words out of the letters in a certain time period. Your mom made the word “thrip”. Someone challenged her that it was not a word and she said “yes it is. It is a little insect that eats gladiola bugs”. Someone looked it up and she was right.