He had a twinkle in his eye, always. And, a large, wonderful smile that created crinkles around his eyes when that smile appeared. It made him light up. You felt it. It made you happy. And when he laughed, he threw back his head and out came a loud laugh tinged with a southern accent. 

I always knew when there was a summer board meeting or a committee meeting because right outside the MMA Science Library – now Research Center – I would see a bike. That bike belonged to Ned who had cycled over from his house on the Cliff for the meeting.  It sat out in the middle of the lawn, without a care in the world, without worry of being driven off by someone else, awaiting the end of the meeting. I would know that the meeting was over because I would either see the bike missing or hear Ned open the gate and wheel out his bike as I was working in the Mitchell House. It was sort of like a rite of summer – Ned and his bike at a MMA meeting.

He firmly believed in the MMA and its mission and he could be very pointed in expressing concern or when he took issue with something. He was fairly tall, and when he extended his long arm and pointed his finger to tap down on the table in front of him, you knew he meant business.  It wasn’t so much as a tap either, it had a lot of strength behind it as he pushed firmly down. He was a gentle person so you knew he had a concern or point to make when he did that and, that you should listen. He was thoughtful and dedicated. 

I wish that I had known him better. He gave so incredibly and generously of his time and he supported so many organizations. He believed in giving back. And his dedication is something that we should all aspire to. 

The last time I saw Ned, it was on Main Street about two years ago. I was finishing up installing the 200^th birthday Hingham Bank window display for the anniversary of Maria Mitchell’s birth. I looked up and saw Ned and Merrielou and went to say hello. I think Merrielou had told him who I was and as I drew near, he reached out his hand to hold mine. The action caught me and I struggled to keep a big smile on my face for him. Because, while the discussion was between Merrielou and myself due to what was robbing him of his ability to speak and to remember, he was a part of the conversation, connected to us both by our hands. It is something that I have always remembered. Something that always makes me choke up. That even though language and memory may be gone, the power of touch is just as important, maybe even more so.

The step, however small, which is in advance of the world, shows the greatness of the person, whether that step be taken with brain, with heart, or with hands. – Maria Mitchell

JNLF