Quite simply, Eleanor (Elie) Randrup was every lovely thing. Born December 28, 1936, to an old Connecticut family, our mom was all the things that we are all supposed to be. Her quiet strength, her brilliant mind, her whimsical sense of humor, and her seemingly endless patience are indescribable, but that won’t stop us from trying, because she didn’t raise quitters!

She was born and raised in Hartford, Connecticut, by parents who were very much ahead of their time—they believed a girl could be—and in fact, should be—anything she wanted to be. Her lifelong love affair with books no doubt started as a result of the fact that her dad would read books to his children every night and personally tuck them into bed. Crazy stuff, we know! The youngest of three, she was extremely close to older sister, Elizabeth (Lee) and older brother, Morgan. She loved to tell us the story of the day that our uncle, Morgie (then aged 13) challenged his youngest sister (aged seven) to climb up the outside of the house and sneak in her second-floor bedroom window. Challenge accepted! Up she scampered and was climbing in her bedroom window when she was discovered by a horrified maid. Another day she was playing ‘statue’ (a game in which you literally violently launch yourself forward and when you land you must instantly freeze), our mom was so committed to sticking the landing that she broke eight digits! In retelling the story, she always had a satisfied, left-it-all-on-the-field smile combined with an impish (but gentle) ‘gotcha’—and yes, she did win the game.

Her family spent many summer days in Fenwick, Connecticut. At a time when neighborhood phones were often interconnected, she and her friends took great delight in listening in on Katherine Hepburn’s phone calls. And when in Hartford, she and her friends followed that same Kate around the golf course, hiding in the bushes, and listening to her swear. Thankfully, her mother insisted they stay at the shore one day when the circus was in Hartford, Connecticut. It was simply ‘too hot to be in the city’, so they were not in attendance during the great circus fire of 1944 which tragically claimed many lives.

She attended the Oxford School (now Kingswood Oxford) where she shone in many dramatic productions by Paint and Putty, and went on to Connecticut College, where she scraped through to a degree in English—a fact which delighted son-in-law, Bob, who unearthed her transcript while helping to clean out the attic, as they agreed college was an unfortunate detour one was required to navigate before entering the real world and making a difference. College life simply had so many delightful distractions. The ultimate distraction, of course, was our father, Pete—the absolute love of her life. In the fall of her senior year, she agreed to a blind date with a sailor from the nearby sub base. He showed up late (‘there was a swell lecture on nuclear subs’) but was tall, blond, Nordic, and had a convertible Triumph TR3—so she was (shall we say) forgiving. Three weeks later they were engaged and they never looked back. Theirs was an uncommon marriage (full of joy, love, and whimsy), and those of us who got to go along for the ride were undeniably lucky. For the last decade of their lives, after sixty-some years of marriage, when we commented to her that “it seems to have worked out”, her response was always “so far.” When gently reminded that she had limited mobility and was tethered to oxygen, and occasionally unsure of what state she was residing in, and asked “how far are you going to get?” she would invariably give us that Mona Lisa smile and reply “depends on how motivated I am.” Yes, she was that awesome.

Mom earned her master’s degree in education from Hartford College for Women. When she applied for off-campus housing, the dean stated she would be required to obtain her father’s permission for that. She replied that her husband and four children would probably notice her absence, and the administration waived the need for her father’s consent. She devoted the next 45 years of her life to early education, the last 30 of those at Roland Park Country School in Baltimore where she also taught gifted programs for reading and writing, and chaired the English Department. She truly loved teaching and it showed. She was completely dedicated, not just to educating kids, but to helping them fall in love with learning.

When she gave her students a reading assignment of a biography of a Maryland woman, one child discovered that there were almost none (written for elementary students) about African American women. Mom solved that by partnering with colleague Kathy Kenny to write a book about Juanita Jackson Mitchell, the first African American woman to practice law in Maryland. A feminist at heart, she again collaborated with Kathy to write a book, “Women of Courage” also written for elementary readers.

Endlessly curious, she attended many OSHER classes in later years, studying the History of Jazz, and War and Peace, among other subjects. She simply loved learning. She did the New York Times crossword every day, in ink, and looked askance at those who chose pencil. She loved hunting through a used bookstore to search out a good mystery by Agatha Christie, Rex Stout, Ellis Peters or someone new. She was never without a book within inches of her chair, and usually had a stack of them nearby, her place marked with sticky notes or index cards, old envelopes or sometimes even Kleenex. She never tired of reminiscing laughingly about dad’s malaprops and giggled about the “Wizard of Tin” every time we brought it up. She had a rare pleasure in words, and never missed a typo; she found them in books, newspapers, magazines, on restaurant menus, signs, and billboards. Recently, upon seeing her daughter’s sticker which read “More Mountains Less A$$holes”, mom pointed to it and said “More Mountains FEWER A$$holes.” The “10 items or less” sign was particularly grating.

Together Mom and Dad created an absolutely magical life for their family—on a farm in CT (where she showed us how to collect sap and make syrup); on Block Island in the summers (clamming and blackberry picking), and in Baltimore, MD where they cheered on Dad’s beloved Orioles (go Birds!). They welcomed anyone who showed up at dinnertime, and sat on the porch just listening to the rain. Dinners were always full of conversation, and when Mom didn’t approve of the direction, or the topic, she would attempt to change the subject with varying degrees of dexterity, on which her children would then score her from 1-10. Early fans of PBS’ show Victory Garden, Mom and Dad’s gardens were legendary wherever they lived—full of tomatoes, cukes, strawberries, raspberries, and more.

The daughter of Morgan Bulkeley Brainard, Jr. and Elizabeth Goodrich Buell, she was predeceased by her parents, her older brother, Morgan B. Brainard III and sister, Elizabeth B. Glassco. She was stoic in the face of tremendous loss, first of her third son, Morgan Brainard Randrup in 1995, and then by the loss of the love of her life, her best friend and husband, Peter N. Randrup, last April.

Survivors include sons, Anders Randrup III (Lennie) of Salisbury, MD and Peter N. Randrup Jr. (Sara) of Glen Arm, MD, daughters, Eleanor Randrup Hein (Robert) of Norfolk, VA and Rennie Randrup Washburn (David) of West Chesterfield, NH; grandchildren, Katie, Sarah, Andy, Tyler, Carly, Claudia, Alex, Brendan, Michelle, Ryan, Casey, Morgan, Emily, Matt, and Chris, and 17 great-grandchildren; niece, Patti Brainard (Sheila Long), and nephews, James and William Glassco.

No doubt, she and Dad are off on another adventure: sailing aboard their sloop, the Dandy or heading out on a drive together. Destination was never important—just together—forever.
Kissy-kiss, Mom. Love you dearly.

A joint service for Peter and Elie will take place at St. David’s Church, Baltimore, Maryland, later this spring.

Arrangements have been entrusted to the care of the Fenton and Hennessey Funeral Home, 55 Westminster Street, Bellows Falls, VT.