When I asked my father why, when he graduated with his Ph.D. in 1940, he didn’t immediately begin a job search, he answered, “Because I knew we were going to war.” Apparently that same logic applied in reverse when it came to having a baby. With war looming, their biological clocks ticking, and the optimism of youth, my parents had a baby. Gretel Marie was born thirteen days after bombs fell on Pearl Harbor.
Daddy's girl
With the exception of my Uncle Walter and a few older cousins, I have known her longer than anyone living.
Gretel and Kathe, March 1948
Because of the age difference, we didn’t play together much, except on holidays...
Christmas, 1951
...but with our parents, we explored the Far East...
Okinawa, 1960
...and the Far West together.
Yellowstone National Park, 1960
After a few false starts, Gretel would pursue a successful career in college theater as a costume designer, marry the love of her life, Frank Rutledge, and have two beautiful children, Jenny and Weldon, both of whom are ensconced today in careers that they love, married, and starting families.
After years of watching her artwork disappear every time a theatrical production closed, Gretel took up printmaking, and, over time, explored other fine and applied arts. Her prints were shown and sold in shows and galleries throughout Michigan.
She visited us at Mill Brook House at least once a year, where she and Frank, who died in 2008, made many valuable contributions. More than that she was our cheerleader, always happy to hear news of our adventures in Charlemont. In what would be our last conversation, I told her about a bald eagle we had seen a few days before, perched in a tree along Route 2, not far from the house; her face lit up in that trademark smile we have known and loved for so long.
"Woman in the Wilderness," 2013