Longtime Middletown resident and former ARC of Monmouth principal, Katherine (Kay) Frances Grady (Leyden), passed peacefully on May 17. She was 92.
Kay Grady Photo/family via John E. Day Funeral Home
“Kay never stood taller than 5 feet, but her diminutive stature was deceptive as she always had a big presence, touching many lives. Kay faced life’s challenges with dignity and grace and always maintained a sense of humor and positive attitude.
Kay will be truly missed by all those she has left behind.”
Born to Joseph and Katherine Leyden in West Orange, Kay was raised in Ridgefield Park. It was there that she met the love of her life, Douglas Grady. Doug and Kay married in June of 1951 and settled in Middletown, to raise their three children, Joanne, Douglas Jr. (Skip) and Kathy.
“After spending many years at home as a devoted wife and mother, Kay decided to rejoin the workforce. She was hired by the ARC of Monmouth in an administrative role and continued to advance within the organization eventually becoming the director of development, which was the position Kay held when she retired after 30 years. While with ARC, Kay won several awards including the prestigious Martin Papish Award in 1998.
Loved ones of Kay Grady
Kay was a communicant at St. Catherine’s Catholic Church in Holmdel for more than 25 years and St. James Catholic Church for 25 years prior to that.
Kay is survived by: her sister, Joan Tanner of Rochester, NY; her children, Joanne and husband Frank Delguercio of Hammonton; Douglas Grady, of Ft Worth, TX; Kathy and husband Ted Dlugolecki, of Hopkinton, MA; nine grandchildren and nine great grandchildren.
Kay is predeceased by her loving husband, Doug as well as her great granddaughter, Leyden.
The family would like to thank the wonderful care provided by the caregivers and staff at Arbor Terrace Shrewsbury and Embracing Hospice.
Checks may also be mailed to ARC at The ARC of the US C/O Tamala P. Scott, Senior Director of Development, 1825 K. Street, NW Suite #1200, Washington, DC 20006 indicating that the gift is to be applied in memory of Kay Grady.
There will be a memorial gathering on Tuesday, June 15, from 9:30 to 11 a.m. at the John E. Day Funeral Home, Red Bank, followed by a memorial mass at 11:30 a.m. at St. James R. C. Church in Red Bank, and an interment at Mt. Olivet cemetery in Middletown.
— Edited obituary written by loved ones via John E. Day Funeral Home
“Hey! Where you going?!” I knew the voice. I knew it well. A Gladdis Kravitz Popeye, if you will. Gravelly, purposeful, with that guttural laugh, he’d yell to me from the porch as he, hearing my “beep, beep” call, would run outside to catch me in my disappearing act before I turned the corner.
After all, it was his neighborhood job. He took it seriously — and he relished the relentless taking care kinda ribbing he so generously doled out. Food was usually involved, too, if he could catch you to get you in for a burger, a sandwich or a Twizzler. The scoop was what he was after. He had that bait, too, but you couldn’t get away without a good grilling, burger aside, a lecture and a heaping helping of teasing. Always the scoop — on what I was up to and how my dad would feel about it all. It was a few million steps beyond nosy neighbor. He had to know. It was part of our neighborhood family pact.
“Once there was a way to get back homeward. Once there was a way to get back home … “
Golden Slumbers ~ Paul McCartney & John Lennon
There’s always a way. And for childhood friends, the way is always niched in those time-capsuled moments, until the capsule cracks …
“There is a crack in everything,” musician/writer Leonard Cohen said. “That’s how the light gets in.” The jarring news that childhood friend Fiona Wilson Phillips had died brought me back home with a jolt — a jolt that gaped the time capsule fissure, light seeping through. She had gone there, too, in snippets of her own light. It was all we needed — all any childhood friend needs with that sort of shake-up. The light brings a smile, warmth. Going back home nourishes the soul, after all. If only for a moment.
The truth was that we hadn’t stayed in touch, but we always had our after-school fourth grade club. It wasn’t Paris. It was better. And when we’d see one another at reunions, we’d smile, say the name of our secret kid society out loud and flash back. Our secret. Our way to get back home. Another truth, though, is that we were always there. I think she might like it if I bring her husband and son back to that place from which she came — the club. They’d never been there. It was a secret, after all.
Kid moments. Secrets. The place to which only a few had gone. The places, times we remember, if only for a bright, colorful, warm second. Often people pay no mind to them — the memories. They should. Everyone’s had them. We had ours. The light shines on them.
The pin spotlight veers through those cracks to this …
I don’t know if it was Paul McCartney, the frozen M&Ms or just the kid connection in the random fandom. I do know that one piece of each day from those weekly meetings of the unofficial Paul McCartney Four club (PM4) of 1969 is embedded in my memory like little slivers of glass chards, each having its place in a delicate crystal jigsaw capsule now cracked, a bit shattered. Slivers scattered, stuck, making way to let that light in.
Once those reflective pieces are stuck, they can no longer be broken. They shine. When one person leaves, each splinter stings with the movement away. Fiona had left the Earth, never the club. I certainly hadn’t thought about the PM4 club every day.
I remembered, though — four 9-year-olds deciding to celebrate Paul McCartney as their favorite Beatle weekly with frozen M&Ms, soda, drooling and dancing in one’s living room. It was me, Carolyn, Anne and Fiona.
I can’t even remember why it was Paul McCartney who united us for those weekly meetings and M&Ms, but, for some reason, we chose to grow up in that way together — at that time. I don’t know how it ended up being us four either.
But it was. We were all in Miss Sloane’s fourth grade class at Knollwood in Fair Haven, of course. We thought she was cool. We thought we were cool. She liked us. We were a little obsessed with our young, groovy teacher. We four walked into Red Bank (imagine that, helicopter moms of today!) to “pop in” on her at her apartment. She really must have thought we were a band of nutty little freaks.
But I digress …
We had bonded over our inadvertent stalking of Miss Sloan. When she got married and was expecting a baby, we had to find another target. Somehow, maybe in a conversation on Sportsman’s Field, we decided that we all loved Paul McCartney. What I or any of the four have no recollection of, however, is why it was Paul and not John or even Ringo. No matter. We had bonded over it. We made a pact to meet once a week. And somehow we decided that Ann would be sure to get the M&Ms in the freezer for our meeting day. They were our decided delicacy.
We would meet at Fiona’s on Grange Walk and walk over to Ann’s on Laury. I had no den in my house, so that was out for meetings. Carolyn had a cool house on River Road, but there were too many kids sure to bust up our secret meetings. Ann’s house was by the pond. No one was ever home — or at least we thought not.
We listened to the Beatles, or mostly Paul, because that was our club purpose. We jumped up and down and danced to When I Saw Her Standing There and I Wanna Hold Your Hand — WOOOOOOO!
We swayed and popped M&Ms to The Long and Winding Road, Yesterday and giggled like Gremlin hyenas over You Know My Name. We never knew what to make of that. Way ahead of our pre-teeny bop minds.
We thought, for sure, though, that one of us would marry Paul. Don’t you just love how fine it is for kids to be completely delusional? Still, we secretly waited for one another’s wedding invite.
The memories are static — crackling, jumbled, fuzzy. One thing that’s vivid, though is the light that shone through those cracks, the sound of the laughter, the smiles on those little faces. We were happy. So happy over a bag of M&Ms, Paul and time together. Remembered.
So, for Fiona’s sake, honor your connections to home. Find a way to get back homeward. Let that light in. Stay there for a minute and smile.
Fiona’s high school yearbook quote was “After all, it’s only a weed that turns into a flower in your mind.” ~ Thomas Benton.
Later in life, I learned, she loved Leonard Cohen, who wrote about the cracks. Ironic. But what about Paul?? No mind. He’s still there somewhere. Now and then come together today … Cohen says those cracks let the light in. The light turns that deeply-rooted weed into a flower. Soak up the light in the secret club of your youth … Rest In Peace, Fiona. Thanks for the clubbing, the dance and the sweet.
More about Fiona Lynne Wilson Phillips …
Fiona Lynne Wilson Phillips passed away on Jan. 30 in the comfort and care of her husband and family after a battle with colorectal cancer.
Fiona grew up in Fair Haven, the daughter of James and Sybil Wilson, who still live in their home there.
She loved coming home …
“Fiona enjoyed returning to New Jersey to visit family and friends and attended several RFH high school reunions, including her 40th reunion held in August 2018 in Sea Bright,” her family said in her obituary.
A Fair Haven-raised girl, Fiona, of course, attended Knollwood and what was Willow Street elementary and middle schools and graduated from Rumson Fair Haven Regional High School (RFH) in 1978.
After high school, Fiona joined the US Army for a four-year assignment and was stationed in Alabama, Texas, California, and Germany during her service.
Following completion of her military duty, Fiona went on to train in the beauty/aesthetics industry completing advanced training and certifications in cosmetology, makeup, and hair. She based herself in on the west coast and honed her skills in various assignments in professional makeup, hair and wardrobe styling in the entertainment industry.
“Known for her esthetics expertise and excellent ability to connect with people, Fiona spent over 20 years at Barney’s New York, Beverly Hills, as top performing sales professional in cosmetics, skin care, and home fragrance. With a keen eye, vivid imagination, and the ability to envision the end product, Fiona was gifted in creating things, whether artwork, a stylish outfit, or home décor. She leveraged these skills professionally and personally, enjoying decorating her home in the Los Angeles suburbs by creating unique designs from carefully curated items at the local thrift and discount stores. Fiona enjoyed exploring and taking weekend excursions with her husband, James. She filled the 61 years she was given with gusto and was proud of her Scottish heritage. Her son, Boris, was a constant source of pride and joy.”
Loved ones of Fiona Wilson Phillips in her obituary
Fiona is survived by: her husband, James Phillips; her son, Boris; her step-sons, Cary and Colin; her sister, Jennifer Jaskowiak; sisters-in-law, Jenny Wilson and Margaret Clayton; parents, James and Sybil Wilson; nieces and nephews, Madeline, Gavin, Sophie, and Kelli; and extended family and friends across the U.S. and internationally.
Fiona was predeceased by her brother, David Wilson.
A private military funeral honors service will be held at California Central Coast Veterans Cemetery, Seaside, CA.
“Her love, guidance and life lessons taught have made us better people. Her generosity has been felt by all … We all now have another angel watching over us.”
Loved ones of Iris Bluford in her obituary
Another forever Fair Haven neighbor, an angel among neighbors to many, has passed, leaving behind a rich legacy of grace and love of home with heart. Iris Bluford, who lived on Parker Avenue since 1959, passed away peacefully at her home on April 2, Good Friday evening. She was 99, just a couple months shy of her 100th birthday.
“‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow …” Danny Boy
“Dan loved his family, he loved his friends, he loved his work — Dan loved life.“
Loved ones of Dan Grady
Friends called them The Grady Bunch: A passel of six affable Rumson- and Fair Haven-raised kids, all graduates of Rumson-Fair Haven Regional High School. The bunch was headed by patriarch Daniel “Dan” Richard Grady.
Surrounded by his children, the longtime former Rumson and Fair Haven dad passed away on March 9 at his Florida home. He was 86.
The popular dad was laid to rest today, April 14, what would have been his 87th birthday.
Longtime Rumsonite Dennis Patrick Lynch entered into his eternal life on April 10. He was 80.
The former Borough councilman, Rumson Country Day School Board vice chair, volunteer, consummate businessman and tennis player was known to
“practice what he preached.
He saw the good in every person, and was the gentle, self-effacing one so many sought out for counsel; his patience, understanding, and supportiveness were incomparable (as was his wit!). Dennis enjoyed the game of Bridge and earned the ACBL rank of ‘regional master.’ His taste in music was eclectic, and he was everyone’s favorite dance partner, especially his wife’s.”
Dennis Patrick Lynch Photo/family via Thompson Memorial Home
Longtime singles and doubles champion of the Seabright Lawn Tennis & Cricket Club, he served as its president and was recently named an honorary member. In 2000, the Asbury Park Press voted him second best player in the history of Jersey Shore tennis.
Dennis served on the Board of the Navesink House (now The Atrium CCRC) and was vice chair of the Rumson Country Day School Board. He also headed the investment sub-committee of the Meridian Health Group after years on the Riverview Medical Center Foundation.
In addition, Dennis served on the Yale Advisory Committee, and was named a Sterling Fellow. A longstanding member of the Racquet and Tennis Club of N.Y., Dennis was also a member of the Sea Bright Beach Club and Rumson Country Club.
More about Dennis Patrick Lynch …
Born in Jersey City, Dennis was a son of Thomas E. Lynch and Mary Doust Lynch. A longtime resident of Rumson, he was a graduate of Red Bank Catholic High School. After spending a postgraduate year at Phillips Exeter Academy, Dennis earned a B.A. from Yale College in l964.
Upon completion of his service in the Coast Guard, Dennis married his former classmate, Ann Marie Blades, his “best friend for life.”
The newlyweds moved to Philadelphia where Dennis studied for his M.B.A. at Penn’s Wharton School, majoring in finance.
He became a V.P. at Smith, Barney & Co. before cofounding the investment advisory firm of Lynch and Mayer, Inc., N.Y.C., in 1976. For 20 years, L & M ranked nationally in the top quintile of large-cap investment managers. Early retirement years were partly spent in Hanover, N.H., and Essex, CT.
Throughout his school years and thereafter, Dennis pursued an outstanding athletic career, distinguishing himself on both the basketball and tennis courts.
A member of the 1962 Yale Ivy League Basketball Championship Team, Dennis was named an All-Ivy Player in 1963 and 1964, was point guard for the Navy and All-Service Teams in 1965, and was drafted by the N.Y. Knickerbockers.
Dennis was also captain of the 1964 Yale Tennis Team and of the Yale-Harvard Team that played Oxford-Cambridge in the Prentice Cup matches of that year.
He was a decades-long parishioner of Holy Cross Church in Rumson.
Dennis is predeceased by: his brother, Thomas E. Lynch, Jr.; and sister, Maureen Lynch.
Dennis is survived by: his loving wife, Ann Marie; his devoted children, Kathy L. Hale (Jon), Dennis P. Lynch, Jr. (Marshall), William T. Lynch, and Nora A. Lynch; his brother, Vincent; his grandchildren, Ted and Nick Hale, Eleanor and Coley Lynch; nieces, Perri Howard and Meghan Lynch; nephew, Nick Lynch; and several close cousins.
A mass of christian burial and a celebration of Dennis’s life will be held in July.
Donations in his name may be made to the Sisters of Mercy of NJ, Red Bank Catholic H.S. and the SLTCC Landmark Preservation Friends.
— Edited obituary provided by family to Thompson Memorial Home
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