The Sweeneys had always been a highly political family…Democratic, naturally. And so Linda signed up both Shannon and Bridget to attend anti-Vietnam marches in Washington, one of them under the wild-wing of Susan Bair. Back in those days, Linda volunteered a single day a week for a much-loved local Congressman named Joe Resnick. Kevin volunteered for the fire department, to which the Sweeneys contributed generously — and Kevin and Linda struggled to create the town’s now indispensable ambulance squad. It was natural enough, then, that Linda be elected Town Justice in the mid-eighties, not long after Kevin’s two-terms warmed us to such intelligent, I daresay, eloquent arbitration.
Small town life changed certainly…almost irrevocably in Woodstock with Kevin and Linda’s divorce. Our fathers mostly sided with “him,” and our mothers with “her”…but as grown children we were forgiven a more catholic view allowing for the enjoyment of both. It didn’t seem long before old family friend, Eva Ballantine was tending the gorgeous garden ringing the family property over which Linda presided as doting grandmother to Bridget’s brood of children. The property’s backyard centerpiece being a remarkable antique iron-work and molded cement gazebo, carefully trucked over from the Berkowitzs, shortly before they sold off their small slate-roofed mansion on Maverick Road. The house, of course, was a gem, in and of itself, and Linda, with an old world sense of welcome, entertained often, assisted by the grown daughters and young wives of many Woodstockers. All her children married (though, as Woodstockers, it wouldn’t be consistent that all such unions “stuck.”)
Not five years ago, a friend helped me host a tea in Byrdcliffe to which we invited several old doyens of Woodstock, encouraging them to remember days gone by. I was struck at Linda’s totally unfiltered responses, by which I mean, she seemed to carry an array of memories — both joys and hurts collected over a long life — which she presented with little or no guile, as might a highly intelligent child not entirely happy with the proposition of growing old. In fact, she was so heartfelt in her descriptions, without any of the armor most of us develop fast enough to “save face” and fuel elaborate trains called “pride,” she shocked me, I have to say. And so it wasn’t until later, I here admit, I found myself more and more in awe of her, until I ended by becoming completely admiring of such unguarded courage. From that day forward I felt I’d become, a little late — a true friend. And that, well…I still am.
When I asked her about the famous photograph taken of her as a little girl standing shyly next to John Flannagan’s freshly-hewn Maverick horse (Hervey White paid him 50 cents an hour to carve it almost completely with an axe — the same salary he paid another man to mix cement or shovel snow…) she recalled that Flannagan was always very kind to her and often much fun, but that he was utterly powerless over drink. “The last time I saw him, not so long after his carving the Maverick horse, he was newly married to a very young girl…My parents threw a little party in their honor…I think it was a lunch, in fact, but by the time we all sat down, Flannagan was so drunk he passed out with his face in an empty soup bowl, very embarrassing, to say the least… And, well, it wasn’t but a few days later we all heard that he’d killed himself…”
No, it wasn’t all romantic, the lives of these artists. And it wasn’t such fun being the daughter of one. Friends divorce, some move away, others die too soon. And we “the children” have troubles of our own…Seldom easy, and then come the aches and sorrows of old age! Hah! And while the war between Kevin and Linda seemed at times nearly gothic in scale, I knew them both well enough to know that there was unspoken love — always — between them. Indeed, Linda visited Kevin more than once near the end of his life and they ended as friends. For Linda Sweeney was a marvelously caring, and in the end, yes, a forgiving soul — so real and righteous in her feelings I’d sometimes need to remind myself that this is one of the ‘gentle-greats’ Woodstock has produced…in pain and in joy — and in truth. Remember that, sonny…
And we will…And we do.
Linda Sweeney is survived by daughters Shannon Sweeney (spouse Lowell Emerling) of New York City; Bridget Sweeney (spouse Doug Bell) of Woodstock; and son Seamus Sweeney (spouse Lisa Sweeney) of Phoenix Arizona; grandson Julian Hom of New York City and granddaughter Laurel Hom of New York City.
A memorial celebrating her life will be announced when the snow drifts melt…
As a first cousin once removed I was fortunate to be with Linda on her trips to Ohio to visit her cousins ( my mother and aunt ). She was always kind to my family and a joy to be with. Thank you for an obituary that told me some things I knew and many I did not.
An honor and a pleasure, Bill. TW