Memories by Tom Feagley

Hello, Kathy & David. I, too, am an artist, tho no where so prolific & accomplised as Peder. I work full-time, usually about 50 hours a week, so carving time to paint is challenging. Still, I manage to finish 20-25 per year, & have been part of 4 exhibits the past 2 years & had a solo show this past January-February.

I really didn't know Peder very well. He & my older cousin Bill (aka Billy Hilldreth or HillBilly) were pals & I'd occasionally see them together when I was 11, 12 or so. Later, when I was in school plays entered in the NH HS Drama Festivals, I ran into Peder twice, in the painting studio of the Arts Center at UNH. I walked around, peeking & poking. I think I was 15, & I was drawn by the smells of oils & the like. When I walked into the studio, there was this guy, a student, kneeling on the floor. It was Peder, & he was busy stretching canvases. We got talking, I told him I planned to be an artist, & he said, "Then, hey, you need to learn how to stretch canvas. It'll save you a lot of money." He was doing it to sell to other students, & when I went to UNH I also stretched canvas to make money. I didn't start to paint til 10 years later.

David & I were friends, off & on, through high school & up until when he moved west, following some Yellow Brick Road. We swam in Granite Lake as young teens, skated & "played hockey" on the pond near his parents' house. We were on the Little League team together, & David was cool enough to send me a photocopy of a photo of that team. I framed it & it's in my office, & when people drop by & comment on it, I ask if they can pick me out, that I'm the "best looking kid in the picture". They almost always go straight to Jim Zwicker. David was a year ahead of me in school, in my brother Mike's class, & we were on the HS NH State Class 'S' state championship team in 1963. Actually, MHS won its first championship in '61, & every one through '65, & lost a no-hitter (Teddy Miner) 1-0 in '66. I watched, 'cause my younger cousin (Bill's kid brother) Chuck was on the team. My memory stinks, so maybe it was a 1- hitter, lost 3-2. I know Teddy pitched a heck of a game. Sorry I missed chatting with him at Peder's funeral.

On at least 2 occasions, I went with David to help his Grandfather, Harry Price, rake in the hay, stack bales on the wagon. He always had the best, & the ice-coldest, home-made apple cider. When I was 18 he gave me a jug of his world-renowned hard cider, as payment & thanks for another day in the hot sun slinging hay onto the wagon. I also worked with David at Merrimac Farmers' Exchange in Keene, 6 months in 1970. We had lots of fun times rambling through the hills on SW NH & SE Vermont, jumping into just about every conceivable water hole & river & stream in the area. The best single experience, or the one I remember most clearly, was when David(driving) & I where finishing up what was maybe a 14-hour day, in late March. It was freezing cold & raw & dark, & David had to keep down-shifting & playing magic games with the gears to get it up this steep, slippery hill. I had to climb out of the cab, up onto the top of the cab, & lift up all the ice-covered low-lying wires & branches. I kept thinking I'd get bounced off, or slide off from the ice. David drove great, we got the job done, headed back from Acworth or thereabouts to Keene, then on to Marlborough & sleep.

It was during that time that I saw Peder for what probably was the next-to-last time. He was living in Stoddard, & David & I would drop in every so often when we had deliveries nearby. Or even when we had to drive a few miles out of the way. Peder was working cutting trees, so all the stories about him loving to cut timber, well, they were true. He'd lumber in, all sweaty & grinning, talking about how much fun he'd had cutting down however many trees, cutting them into fire-wood, splitting. & he'd casually show me the paintings he was working on. I wanted to buy one, an Autumn scene in the woods, with large boulders & some trees & the sky poking through. When I saw it, all I could think was, man, I'd sure like to climb up onto one of those big ol' rocks, & just sit there a while, doin' nuthin, thinkin' bout nothing. I mustered the courage to ask him, that next-to-last sighting, if he'd sell it to me & if so, for how much. He said he was asking something like $500 for it, had someone he thought might buy it, but if I'd give him $50, he'd give it to me. He said something like, "I'm havin' a good day today & I'm in a charitable mood, so I might even frame it for you, for free. Well, I didn't have more than $5 to my name back then & so I told him he'd be smart to take the man's $500, thanks for the kindness. Years later I kicked my self, knowing I shoulda struck some sort of pay-as-I-went to buy it.

The very last time I saw Peder, he was early in his career teaching at FPC & showing some of his paintings as part of a group exhibit. I think he had a half-dozen paintings on the walls, & I saw what looked a lot like the one I'd been so smitten with maybe a dozen years earlier. I walked over & looked at it real close, & I commented on how much it looked like the one I'd asked about buying back then. Peder said this was a fairly recent painting, I think he said it was done in Chesterfield or near there. I meekly asked his asking price for the painting, & he said he'd already sold it. Dang! Foiled again.

Although I did not know Peder well, or even sorta well, I knew him through stories David loved to tell of the older brother he so adored. He'd tell stories about when Peder would pick him up & place him carefully on the handlebars of his bike, only to go tear-assing down some backwoods dirt road in Marlborough or into Troy or Jaffrey, bouncing David's brains silly...or tree-cutting exploits, such that I began to think of Peder as the enfleshment of Paul Bunyon, expecting to see some goofy blue ox tagging along behind him.

The one constant thread in my experiences of Peder is that he always, & I mean right from the very first occasion when he & I met (thru cousin Bill), all the way to that last cameo visit during his exhibit...Peder always treated me like I was real. It was common, heck, always has been & always likely will be, that older kids would treat younger kids like they were invisible or toys or just silly little twits best ignored. The first time I met Peder, he asked me how did I like living in Marlborough, & what was it like for me living in near NYC, on Long Island. Y'know, he was the first & the only person in Marlborough that ever asked me that. I always was one who'd prefer to not be in the limelight, but Peder drew me out almost immediately. &, best of all, he actually listened to me. That's what I remember - & will miss - most about Peder C. Johnson, my buddy David's older brother.

I went to the funeral mostly out of friendship with & respect for David. At the same time, I also sorta knew Nancy, sorta remember Andrea, vividly recall times with young Sam, & the few times I saw Betsy I thought she was just about the most beautiful girl (she was still in HS) I'd ever seen. David's Dad & Mom always were wonderful & interesting hosts. He once told me he could teach me how to whistle really good, but after about a half-hour he said "maybe whistling isn't your gift, Tom". His Mom sometimes made hot chocolate for us during our skating breaks, which were frequent. The entire Johnson family was always different, & each was different from the others in their own wonderful & wacky ways. My mother, who's long-retired as a French (& occasionally Spanish) teacher, still mentions Andrea as one of her favorite students, "a special girl, that one".

So, maybe I actually went because of all of the Johnson folks. Growing up in Marlboro(ugh), NH, back in the 50s & 60s, was a really special & enthralling time. As people I knew back then pass on, I am aware that it's like parts of my own personal past have passed on. Peder's passing, well, that's probably the most notable to date. Jim Zwicker's was the most important to me, because we'd share a long & close friendship, followed by a long & painful separation.

When the pastor invited individuals to stand & speak about some "special memory" of Peder, all I could think was the times I've gone to others' funerals & when invited, no one, or maybe only one, spoke. Obviously, Peder impacted many people through the years, in a variety of ways. He touched hearts & minds of grown human beings, many of whom didn't strike me as the sort who'd be easily impressed. Yet, Peder had indeed impressed them, easily & quickly. I could not but feel a touch of sorrow for not having known the man better, given all the wonderful & articulate testimonies. But, I did not know him better.

My heart goes out mostly to David's mother. My kid sister Kathy died 6 years ago this past Monday, & my Mom stills says, "It's not right. A mother ought not outlive her child." I'm sure Mrs. Johnson must be feeling & thinking much the same. It's a pain that can never disappear, but with time it can be less gnawing.

& my heart goes out to David. He's lost a brother, a friend, a hero. Kid brothers tend to look at older brother's (5-6+ years older) as bigger-than-life creatures. A couple parts magic, at least one part overbearing pain-in-the-butt, part charming & gracious, part mean as heck, & always someone to look up to, knowing that he'd be around to toss a baseball around or amaze you with how talented & able he was. I think David's gonna miss Peder a lot, even tho they didn't have lots of contacts over the years. Plus, it means than now David is the Older Brother in the Johnson clan. Maybe he should defer & let Sam take on the role.

Well, folks, this was gonna be brief, howdy & toodles. Guess I figured I needed to share some of my Peder C. Johnson memories with someone who was one of my growing-up buddies aeons ago. I'm real glad I knew I had to be there in the Federated Church that Saturday & I'm real glad I got to at least see David & his family that afternoon. Friendships forged during the tempestuous years of our youth have a way of returning throughout our lives, no matter where or how our paths take us. I got to chat with maybe a half-dozen people I'd known growing up in Marlborough. At one point, at the Community Center, I told my mother that I knew which lady was Nancy, which was Betsy, I knew which guy was Sam because he'd stood up in church & said "a few words"...but, I didn't see anyone who I thought was Andrea. My Mom, who liked Andrea so much, said, "that's because she isn't here." Later, Nancy confirmed that.

Okay, then, goodnight, sweet dreams, take care of yourselves & each other. I suspect that Peder's spirit was hanging out there in Marlborough that day, smiling & chuckling & wishing he could wander off & split some wood.

Take care. Walk gently on the earth. peace & love, etc, Tom Feagley