I never knew Tom Connors. He was gone from the scene before I was cognizant. Flossie was Eleanor's ( my grandmother's) closest friend. When Flossie died of cancer in her mid 90's, all the remaining fun in life went out from Eleanor. Ted/Jack, Eleanor's husband had already lost his battle with cancer and Flossie really kept her niece up and about. Flossie was younger than her sisters and thus closer to her brother's oldest surviving child. There are many Florence's in this family....this is the ONLY one ever called Flossie. She twinkled. she was impecably groomed, she was always correctly dressed for whatever occasion up or down and always ready for fun. She had a musical laugh. Well into her late 80's I remember her sailing into our home in a fire-engine red , black piped Channel style suit with matching shoes and bag. I can't ever remember her with a negative thought about anyone no matter how caddish a character. But, I remember many stories told of her adventures, most with Eleanor. One example: The two ladies, Eleanor and Flossie were traveling around Boston via the subway ( streetcar to them). They were at a busy subterranean section under the city's heart. They were not able to get a seat and so held onto large porcelain covered metal hand rings that hung from a bar across the ceiling of the cars for standing passengers. Not wanting to soil their white gloves ( this was 1960's Boston) they each removed one glove and held on bare handed. A man seated in front of Eleanor was deeply asleep. Her loose glove dropped onto the abdomen of the somnambulant gentleman. Before she could retrieve the glove ( How indeed !) the car jerked around a corner, the sleeper awoke, looked down at his trousers, saw white, unzipped, tucked the white glove inside his trousers , rezipped, and went back to sleep.. Bewildered, Eleanor looked around at the others sitting passengers next to the man. " Don't look at me" one man shrugged. No one said another word. Eleanor soon got off...short one glove. Flossie's question after telling this tale was " What do you suppose he'll tell his wife tonight when Eleanor's glove falls out as they ready for bed?" You have to see two sober faced sincerely old fashioned ladies tell this tragic tale of loss and embarrassment without a hint of a smile ...then cackling like happy hens once they had delivered Flossie's punchline question. The two of them would have made a sucessful stand-up comedy team. I can't tell if they had more silly adventures than anyone else I knew, or had a keener sense of observation and humor. I think the latter.
Florence Libby (b. Abt. 1887)
Notes for Florence Libby: