Longtime area resident Regi Kendig died earlier this month. She was 79.
Yet out of her family’s grief comes a remarkable story. Her daughter-in-law Elizabeth Kendig writes:
My husband Ty and I moved in with Reg not long after she started chemo — and never left.
Since her passing we’ve decided to move back to Connecticut, a place that’s felt like home since I first stepped off the train a decade ago and got the insider tour from — who better? — local real estate agent legend/future mother-in-law of my dreams, Regi Kendig.
We also yearn to be closer to family, especially my sister-in-law Paige, whose partner Bryan died from glioblastoma just 10 days after Reg.
Coming back here was never in the cards for us. Like so many “kids” (we’re now in our late 40s) we were raised by parents who encouraged us to find our own place in the world.
But in the weeks we cared for Reg, surrounded by a revolving door of her local friends and family, it became abundantly clear that we had found our people.
After living in Marin County, I feel qualified to say that no matter how objectively beautiful a place is, it’s the community that makes it a home.
Ty and Elizabeth Kendig
Our new community showed up big time last week.
We were driving home on Weston Road in the rain after a few Mets innings at the Duck, and noticed a car pulled over with its hazards on. A giant snapping turtle was in the road, and the driver was trying to shuffle him to safety.
We stopped to see if he needed help, and learned the turtle was the victim of a hit and run. He had flipped over in the collision.
While the driver (Weston resident, first name Leo) had gotten him upright, the turtle’s shell was cracked and bleeding. He wasn’t budging.
We all stood there scratching our heads when another driver, pristinely dressed, stopped and knew who to call: VEG ER for Pets in Cos Cob, where he had once brought an injured bunny.
Would they take a turtle? Yes!
How we would get him in the car was another story.
Enter an oversized pickup truck passing by. The driver put his siren on. and pulled over.
This tall, highly capable looking bearded man miraculously had leather gloves, a small shovel and what looked like a mesh firewood carrier in his truck. We laid it on the ground, nudged the turtle in, and lifted him into our trunk.
Before Ty and I headed to VEG, everyone exchanged numbers so we could keep them updated on the patient.
Our new friend in fine linens? Andrew Leary, the founder of Look Optic (who only mentioned his company because I was squinting at my phone, in visible need of readers).
The hero in the truck? FBI special agent and local SWAT team leader Bullets (actual given name).
Leo lives down the street from Reg. I trust the Universe will put us in each other’s path again.
Ty and I raced off to Cos Cob, lulling our anxious passenger with the Grateful Dead.
We pulled into VEG after dark. Two employees came outside. While I couldn’t tell you their titles, Jenny from the Bronx didn’t bat an eye as she reached under the turtle’s tail to its under-shell, lifted him out in one fell swoop, and marched him inside without so much as a wiggle or snap.
The VEG crew assessed the damaged shell. They were optimistic that with its organs intact and head unscathed, the turtle would make a full recovery.
VEG couldn’t legally contact us with an official update. But I have it on good authority that our turtle friend is safe, and in good hands.
I know the feeling.