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February 4, 1953 ~ July 5, 2023 (age 70) 70 Years Old
Pamela Ann Frankel of Marlborough, NH passed away on July 5, 2023, after a courageous battle with cancer. She was surrounded by the love of her family.
Pam was born in Manhattan, New York on February 4, 1953, the daughter of Irvin Frankel and Doris Leila Frankel (Geiser).
Pam grew up with her Mom, Dad and two brothers in Westbury, New York. She graduated from W. Tresper Clarke High School in Westbury. She earned a Bachelor of Science Degree in Art Education from Hofstra University in Hempstead, New York. Pam also earned a Master’s Degree in Education-Elementary Education from Antioch University New England in Keene, New Hampshire.
Pam was a passionate and talented artist and writer. She taught and worked in education most of her life, and recently developed a children’s art program in Dublin, New Hampshire. She also enjoyed teaching English, on-line, to children in China. Prior to her cancer diagnosis, Pam was dedicated to providing educational support for a student with special needs who was attending a nearby public school.
Pam is survived by her brothers Brian and Ken Frankel, her nephew, Kevin Frankel, and sister-in-law, Pam Frankel.
The following poem, that she wrote in 2004, illustrates her love of New England, with its natural beauty, charming towns, art galleries and festivals. It also is a window into her artist’s eye and heart of a poet.
Prompt: From Emily Archer’s meeting, to write a poem based on feelings from a photo. Mine was on spring based on a few photos and a walk through Amherst, NH. (Pamela Ann Frankel)
The Sprouting of Spring in New England
By Pamela Ann Frankel, 2004
With a pard’ning of winter on spring’s thawing ground,
There was a stirring of life waking up all around;
White snow geese with silver-blue wings stream the sky,
But pheasants, fowl and young parade proudly by.
White clapboard houses are no longer hidden,
Under winter’s white snow & melting frost chagrin;
Green canopies instead begin to take over,
The bare branches of birch and maple from here to Dover.
Kites soar high and compete with flags flapping on poles,
As Frog Hollow Pond has dancing and leaping tadpoles;
Willow Tree Farm gathers hay for its horses,
While hills have daisies and daffodils sprouting up might forces.
At old Farnworth’s orchards, still farmed by horse power,
Are apple trees budding their new white-cupped flower;
The plushness of May shall fill Windy hollow,
The blueberry patches along lakes shall follow.
It’s time to start painting white picket fences,
And mend old tattered barns from winter’s offenses;
To tidy flowerbeds with pine scented mulch,
Just take heed of the black fly at all chance approach.
Even with the passing of a short, deep blue storm,
Cranberry vines are showing their beads in uniform;
And fiddleheads sprout their violin handles,
While sills in windows still flicker with candles.
Along the shores can be heard the call of seagulls and plover,
And inland the sweep of wind through milkweed and clover;
Lupines spread over hillsides their lavender veil,
But alas, there’s still room for ragweed to prevail!
Stillness only comes with the surrender of sunrise
To the moonlit valley, hills, and caterpillars’ surmise;
And tucked under quilts over old creaky floors,
All children, alike submit to night’s crestfallen doors.
At last, an old woman with spirited power,
Pulls on the rope to ring the church bell from a tower;
Which sounds even more during this spring season’s call,
As weddings unwind and square dances curtsy to all.
For those who glide with a flock or alone ponder,
It is a wonder for all and for all to wonder,
The sprouting of spring in New England is all around
Whether on hills or valleys, or in streams where trout abound.
*The rhythm of the poem as a whole was inspired by a poem found in a hymn book called, “In Sweet Fields of Autumn,” written by Elizabeth Madison in 1883. These two endings of phrases (in bold) were used from that poem, even though she was referring to other seasons. Everything else is original.