Bud Lauridsen helped to guide and build the Historical Society into its present form. The following tribute was written on Sepember 23, 2005, one day after his death, and originally published in our Winter 2006 newsletter:
“Bud Lauridsen picked a glorious day to leave us—sunny, warm and dry, with a gentle breeze. It was the kind of day that makes you think you’re in the best place in the world. Then we all heard an unfamiliar, wailing siren from the direction of the firehouse. My son asked what it meant, and I could think of only one message: a modern echo from a much earlier day when the church bell regularly signaled deaths within the small community. We walked over to the Historical Society, gave the Schoolhouse bell a good ring, and lowered the flag.
How many times Bud rang that same bell over at the King Ridge Ski School, I don’t know, but he must recognize its sound by now. We stood silent at the edge of the field overlooking Sunapee and King Ridge until one of the crows that watches over the village let out a long, scolding squawk. He lifted off the tree-top above us and flew down the row of buildings: Acquisitions, Schoolhouse, Privy, Country Store, Violin Shop, Eagle Hose. Is there anything that Bud hasn’t helped create?
“I spoke with Bud as he was leaving the Old New London pageant, just a few days earlier. He offered a firm handshake through the passenger window. For the first time in awhile he was speaking in whens and not ifs. I took that as a good sign, a sign that he might want to stick around a bit longer and give us some instruction on fixing a worn gasket in his fire pumper. He said he had bought enough replacements to last 200 years—and they should fit Bill Kidder’s pumper as well.
“Now I suspect that his confidence may have been more fundamental: the job would get done by the organization he had helped nurture with vision and hard work and patience. His legacy. Always practical, he insisted that the Society not become a static memorial to anyone. 'You’ve got to keep it fresh,' he often said, 'or the people won’t come.'
"I miss Bud terribly, but I also know that I’m not alone; others knew him better and will miss him more. A couple of years ago, on late fall afternoons when the first snow threatened, I would hear him methodically nailing shingles on the Eagle Hose building, the crows watching from the treetops. I will miss that scene. And if I intruded to help, he would invariably start telling stories—some new, some not. I will miss those stories. As I recall, the snow finally fell on the same evening he set the last shingles on that roof. What timing! Or maybe he had checked the forecast.
“For many of us the changes in New London are coming too fast, the deaths of those that personify the town too frequent. It’s unsettling. But the Historical Society is a place to put changes into broader perspective, in which time is measured by generations.
"Right now it’s hard to think beyond next week, but we will extend our horizon. The Society’s Board is committed to it. And we hope you will join us by offering your ideas and contributing your time to the effort. Let’s all be grateful for Bud’s enduring example and ‘keep it fresh.'”
– Jim Perkins (9/23/2005)
“Bud Lauridsen picked a glorious day to leave us—sunny, warm and dry, with a gentle breeze. It was the kind of day that makes you think you’re in the best place in the world. Then we all heard an unfamiliar, wailing siren from the direction of the firehouse. My son asked what it meant, and I could think of only one message: a modern echo from a much earlier day when the church bell regularly signaled deaths within the small community. We walked over to the Historical Society, gave the Schoolhouse bell a good ring, and lowered the flag.
How many times Bud rang that same bell over at the King Ridge Ski School, I don’t know, but he must recognize its sound by now. We stood silent at the edge of the field overlooking Sunapee and King Ridge until one of the crows that watches over the village let out a long, scolding squawk. He lifted off the tree-top above us and flew down the row of buildings: Acquisitions, Schoolhouse, Privy, Country Store, Violin Shop, Eagle Hose. Is there anything that Bud hasn’t helped create?
“I spoke with Bud as he was leaving the Old New London pageant, just a few days earlier. He offered a firm handshake through the passenger window. For the first time in awhile he was speaking in whens and not ifs. I took that as a good sign, a sign that he might want to stick around a bit longer and give us some instruction on fixing a worn gasket in his fire pumper. He said he had bought enough replacements to last 200 years—and they should fit Bill Kidder’s pumper as well.
“Now I suspect that his confidence may have been more fundamental: the job would get done by the organization he had helped nurture with vision and hard work and patience. His legacy. Always practical, he insisted that the Society not become a static memorial to anyone. 'You’ve got to keep it fresh,' he often said, 'or the people won’t come.'
"I miss Bud terribly, but I also know that I’m not alone; others knew him better and will miss him more. A couple of years ago, on late fall afternoons when the first snow threatened, I would hear him methodically nailing shingles on the Eagle Hose building, the crows watching from the treetops. I will miss that scene. And if I intruded to help, he would invariably start telling stories—some new, some not. I will miss those stories. As I recall, the snow finally fell on the same evening he set the last shingles on that roof. What timing! Or maybe he had checked the forecast.
“For many of us the changes in New London are coming too fast, the deaths of those that personify the town too frequent. It’s unsettling. But the Historical Society is a place to put changes into broader perspective, in which time is measured by generations.
"Right now it’s hard to think beyond next week, but we will extend our horizon. The Society’s Board is committed to it. And we hope you will join us by offering your ideas and contributing your time to the effort. Let’s all be grateful for Bud’s enduring example and ‘keep it fresh.'”
– Jim Perkins (9/23/2005)
