AUGUST 9, 2021 – My three sisters gathered in Lyme, CT over the weekend. What drew them here was the 75th annual meeting of the Huntley National Association. I attended vicariously thanks to my sisters’ vivid descriptions.
Back in time, our grandfather, whose mother was a Huntley, was very active in the association. He paid our annual membership dues, for which we received our own little membership cards signed by the president, Virgil Huntley from Mystic, CT. As Grandpa explained, all Huntleys in America were related to the Earl of Huntley, who’d arrived on our shores in 1635 and was awarded a large land grant from the King of England. Our grandparents’ retreat (now held by my sisters and me) overlooking Hamburg Cove in Lyme was a piece of that land.
In 1946, Virgil and other local Huntleys established the national association. Each year since (except 2020), members, hosted by a Huntley, have gathered somewhere in America. This year the reunion returned to nearby Groton, CT.
It’s a quirky and persnickety group, judging by the minutes of the 73rd meeting:
“Time for reading the 2018 was given. Errors that were found and corrected were the spelling of the [_______]’s name and [_________]’s name and a few spacing and punctuation errors. The motion to accept the minutes as corrected was presented by [________ Huntley] seconded by [__________] Huntley, [sic] and carried.”
(I’ll have to ask my oldest sister, our immediate family’s wordmeister, whether she caught the punctuation error.)
My sisters agreed that the highlights of the dinner gathering Saturday were threefold: 1. An extended conversation with a veteran submariner, who told all except “what he wasn’t allowed to tell”; 2. A non-Huntley (and thus, a non-voting member) who was fascinated by the Huntleys because he lived in a house once owned by a Huntley in Old Lyme that had been moved to Westchester, NY in 1938 for $171.00; and 3. The silent auction . . .
My younger had assumed that the auction would feature such attractions as “a weekend at someone’s grand, ocean view home in Maine.” In reality the sale featured “memorabilia of Virgil Huntley.” These included a faded photograph of . . . Virgil’s sister; a letter from President Obama congratulating Virgil on his 100th birthday; and numerous plaques and certificates signed by one deputy mayor or another in commendation of Virgil’s community service. We’ll have to wait for next year’s treasurer’s report to learn how much was fetched from the mementos of the venerated Virgil.
The program included a prayer and songs glorifying the Huntley clan—one sung to the tune of Onward Christian Soldiers, the other to the Battle Hymn of the Republic. In recounting the event, my oldest (conservative) sister said rhetorically, “I wonder how long it will be before saying a prayer won’t be allowed. I noticed there was no Pledge of Allegiance at the dinner.”
Without missing a beat, my youngest (liberal) sister said impishly, “Maybe that’s because there wasn’t a flag.”
A descendant of the Earl needs to “flag” that omission in time for next year’s reunion.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
