Family
Annie Dunlea Hawkins
Daughter-in-law
I first met Eric in Santa Monica, California, in the spring of 1977. He and Ellen were visiting John, with whom I was fast becoming an item. Our first interaction was spent talking about education: safe ground and a shared interest, since I’d recently completed a year of graduate work at the University of London studying educational psychology. Had I known then he'd been a member of the famous Plowdon Committee, whose work had so impressed me, I might have been more awestruck and tongue tied. As it was, we were a bit formal and serious with one another. Until Ellen said in Danish, "Come off it Eric". I was of course quite unaware of this little exchange, but he did instantly relax and at that moment I stepped into a wonderful and easy relationship with Mutti and Pater, as I would soon call them.
Eric and Ellen embraced me as a loved family member rather than merely an accepted daughter-in-law and we shared countless travels, adventures, chats and visits.
When I reflect on Pater, I certainly note his keen intellect, his enormous passion for education and the tenor tones produced by his voice and cello. But it is a combination of other things that make me smile and fill me with love for him. He had a rich sense of humor that could be surprisingly impish. His hands were competent hands, he was always curious and interested in things - often many things - and he was exceedingly kind. I learned much from him and laughed many laughs with him.
One of my very favorite rituals was sharing a noggin of scotch (often Glenmorangie and I learned from him that the stress is on the second syllable). The magic was sitting into the wee hours considering pressing matters of the world, discussing education, or, my favorite, my being captivated by his thoughtfully told stories of the war, Spain, his numerous adventures. Many of these tales made their way into "Listening To Lorca".
Traveling has always been a centerpiece in the Hawkins' world. Pater showed me how to travel as a person slipping into a culture rather than watching it from without. As an American studying abroad I'd visited many of the "must see" landmarks of England and the Continent, but Eric, Ellen and John introduced me to little villages, hidden ruins, the joy of staying in a Gîte and simple pleasures of the countryside. I still smile when I recall the day in 1978 when, in the midst of a strenuous hike in scorching heat in the Auvergne, Pater nipped into a tiny shop and came out with beer, a baguette and a couple of bars of chocolate. I was incredulous when he recommended placing the chocolate between gritty chunks of bread, then dazzled by the taste sensation he'd introduced to me. His eyes twinkled knowing how much I'd like it. This was before chocolate croissants were popular items at Starbucks. This was the original thing. It was often like that with Pater: his delighting in sharing fun little discoveries.
While summers were for Europe, Eric and Ellen regularly had winter visits to see John and me in the California sun. We all loved these: they were home centered times and not infrequently included Eric-led home improvement projects.
Some others have commented on Eric's skill as a craftsman, working with wood or clay. Whenever his able hands touched wood, even basic items were transformed into art: railings for garden steps, gates for the drive, a music stand, later a gate to keep his little granddaughters from tumbling down the stairs in Swanland. He loved challenges and puzzles and helped me with many projects. One California evening I shared a dream of having tiles in my entry. The next day I found myself in a hardware store with Pater, gathering together all sorts of curious items we'd need to bring the dream to life. He showed me how to plan, measure and cut tiles then how to space them, glue them and use tinted grout. Together we laid beautiful Italian tiles in the foyer. Another time he and I chopped down and dug out a superfluous long hedge - laughing our way through the sweaty labor. He always laughed when he worked with me and he always laughed at himself, recalling his mistakes in past endeavors (a tent that leaked, a floor that sagged). Pater put together many wonderful photo albums of our travels and visits together. These are now treasured souvenirs of very special times. For those who might not know, he was also a talented photographer.
Eric had many facets. It was his "hands to" attitude, his light humor, his artistic sense, his enjoyment in being, that provided such a marvelous counterpoint to his sincere, serious, academic side. He had a deep modesty and a great desire to recognize the contributions of others.
He once observed that there are different kinds of sports. Games such as tennis pitted one person against another, whereas in mountain climbing groups work together to achieve a goal. That was Eric - he wanted to get to the summit, but he wanted to take others with him.
My one regret is that John's and my daughters, who came to us late and after much effort, didn't have more time to know their "Farfar" (father's father, in the Danish tradition). He was a great man.
The photo captures the laughter. This was taken 12 August 1988 on Eric and Ellen's 50th wedding anniversary, laughing at John's very funny poem that imagined his parents' courtship.
