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Charles Hughes

Apr 08
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A Message From My Father Spirit Wrapped in Black Feathers

By Andrew Hughes, Charles Hughes, crow., death, Masqueman Photography
It was one year ago that my brother called me and told me of our father’s passing. I was sitting in my office and clearly, my ears heard the words, but my brain wrapped them in a web to digest later. I had to get out…

As I sat in my car staring into space, a huge black crow flew through my field of vision and landed in a tree next to me. It squawked at me for what seemed several minutes… and then it flew away.

At moments like this, I can get a little superstitious. Some Native American cultures see crows as liaisons between this world and the next. They are viewed as guides that help the deceased cross over.

I would rather imagine that this was a message from my father’s spirit than just a noisy bird who took a keen interest in me sitting in my car. It does not really matter if that is even logical or not… This life is full of mysteries and strange occurrences, and I do not need to know all the answers. Either way, it marked the moment vividly.
Celebrating death anniversaries may be a purely human endeavor. Other animals rarely look back at the end of someone else’s life with pride, remorse or joy. Humans may be the only creature that can understand how the past, present and future glide seamlessly through one another changing our viewpoints along the way. 
What a child’s parents experienced, may later be felt by the same child once grown. The only time I ever saw my Dad cry was when he told us that his father passed away. I understand more clearly what that moment was like for him now that I have felt the same sting.

“I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together.” — John Lennon 

Whether this is what Mr. Lennon was exactly saying, it seems to support my view that these similar shared experiences as humans bind all people and cultures together. We all mark similar milestones in a lifetime, but not necessarily at the same rate or in the same way.

THE PAST

At that moment…the past came flooding back to me. All those lessons my Dad taught me, the secret talks and the shared dreams. Pulling me out of trouble and teaching me that the only way to do a job is “the right way”. The last time I saw him… the last time we talked… I never knew that would be it.

THE PRESENT

One simple call made the present slip into the past as I realized that I would no longer be able to pick up the phone to call him.  I thought “I have to leave right now…. I have to change flight arrangements…. I have to plan what to do next…. I will grieve later…. too much to do…”

THE FUTURE

Keeping an eye to the future can help you cope with the present. During the week of the funeral, I kept myself as busy as possible, never letting my brain sit idle. After the funeral service was over, the walls came crashing down. There was no outrunning it any longer, and it was too painful to think about a future without his smile that was seemingly just for me, and his lovely voice of a southern gentleman. I have replayed messages from him just to hear it again.

My Dad’s smile, captured by his granddaughter, Kristina
FOLLOWING HIS LEAD

Charles Hughes never stopped moving during his life until his medical condition confined him. I believe his last 5 years were purchased with sheer stubbornness and willpower to stay at my Mom’s side and raise his grandchildren. He was a man of boundless energy and creativity. He could be a mystery to those who loved him, hiding his true thoughts behind silence or sarcastic attempts at humor. He did not linger in the past, but decided to look ahead with the vision of what was important to him. I want to be like my father. If I see a crow, I will tell him this… just in case my Dad is listening.
Apr 08
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Memorial Video of Charles Hughes

By Charles Hughes, memorial
This was the memorial video that was played at my father’s funeral, and replayed on the one year anniversary of his passing.

I made it with the help of my nephew, Justin who helped me scour the photo albums for the right shots. During the funeral, the video was accompanied by beautiful live music that Justin played on his guitar. Unfortunately, I did not have clean recording of that, so I replaced it with a powerful song sung buy Annie Lenox with music by Howard Shore. The lyrics fit…

In case the video does not come through in email, here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r47-EDM93II

“Into The West”

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You’ve come to journey’s end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You’re only sleeping

[Chorus]What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don’t say: «We have come now to the end»
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

And you’ll be here in my arms
Just sleeping

[Chorus]

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West

Mar 14
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The Priceless Birthday Present

By Andrew Hughes, Carol Hughes, Charles Hughes, mother, parents, wedding anniversary
For my 45th birthday I received a surprise treasure from my mother. An unassuming box arrived in the mail, and there was no telling what would be in it because she has a knack for creative presents. This year she sent something of great personal value to her and now to me. It was from a time many years before I was born.
Carol and Charlie “JUST MARRIED” in 1960
 Back in 1961, my parents were newlyweds and financially strapped like many young folks. The stuff we take for granted today would have been considered luxurious for them at that time of their lives, especially since they were spending their summer working at Sky Ranch, a camp for “challenged” campers. Some of these young kids had no arms or legs, or suffered from the effects of polio and birth defects. My mother said that these children taught her and my father so much and made the summer a memorable experience.

Carol and Charlie Hughes in 1961
Having little money, my father got creative for their first wedding anniversary. He made my mom something with his own hands. In a way, these kinds of gifts represent an investment of time and love. Not to say that a store-bought gift is not appreciated, but in our product driven world, most people have stopped making things themselves. My father would continue to make her gifts for the rest of his life as seen by these whimsical butterflies made of crushed rock, wire and wood.

My dad carved for my mother a small wooden figure of woman carrying a baby on her back. For anyone who knows my Mom, they will know that this has more than a surface meaning. 

She has raised 4 of her own children, 4 grandchildren, a gang of neighborhood kids and several stadiums worth of teenaged counselors and campers. Not only that, she was the oldest of 8 siblings and helped with her mother with baby raising duties.

The timeworn face of a mother

To me, the figurine of a mother carrying her children symbolizes her perfectly. I suspect my father knew this when he carved it. My Mom  put her children before her own concerns. The weight was heavy as you can see from the stooped back, but she did it anyway… and is still doing it today in her late 70s.

You may never meet a more caring, insightful and funny lady. Many of our late night calls are filled with laughter and funny yarns filled with juicy details… just the way a good tall tail should be told. She is the type of person who knows who everyone is at somebody else’s family reunion. I am sure she has introduced cousins who did not even know that they were related. My mom will make strangers feel welcome, and always let you know how much she loves you. I kinda feel sorry for the rest of the world, because I have the best mom out there… just saying.
Aug 21
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It Would Have Been 54 Years Ago…

By Andrew Hughes, Carol Hughes, Charles Hughes, Masqueman Photography, parents, wedding anniversary
Wedding anniversaries in my family are not usually celebrated as big events outside of the married couple. Years ago, when my parents had their 50th anniversary, it came and went quietly. They did not want the attention or the hullabaloo.
Today would have been my parent’s 54th wedding anniversary. 
My Dad missed it by less than half a year having passed away in April. My Mom is bravely facing this day “alone” so we are all thinking about her right now.
Over the years my parents rode the peaks and valleys of any marriage, learning to communicate as two totally different types of people and somehow made it work.
A big component of their lives was their children and grandchildren, but this is just about them.

My Mom shared a personal story of how my Dad would hide Snickers bars under her pillow or present her with flowers gathered from everywhere except the florist. The example below looks like it did come from a  florist, but he probably borrowed it from somewhere. Don’t ask…

This is one of the last photos that I took when my Dad still had a sparkle in his eye. He had the same sparkle when he would sing songs or expertly whistle tunes for my Mom.

This was the photo we used for my Dad’s funeral, and now it hangs in their bedroom next to the sparkly butterflies my Dad made for my Mom aeons ago.

Almost 54 years together is quite an accomplishment. I really don’t have the words to describe what their partnership together must have been like so I’ll leave it to the expert. Alan Jackson… take it away. This song is dedicated to Carol and Charlie Hughes on their 54th anniversary. It is their life and I would have sworn he wrote it for them.

See video here: http://youtu.be/TTA2buWlNyM

Jun 15
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A Letter to My Daddy on Father’s Day

By Charles Hughes, Father's Day

Dear Dad,

It’s Father’s Day so I thought I’d write you an note and let you know what is going on down here on Earth. Hopefully, you have internet access up in Heaven and can read this, but my hunch is that you are looking over my shoulder as I type.

First, all of us miss you dearly. I hate the fact that I cannot just pick up a phone and hear the eloquence of your Southern Gentleman’s voice and your “dry as the desert” humor. I left a few old  voicemails from you on my phone so I can hear you any time I want. I also watch some of those videos from the 80s and 90s that were made about your Marine Science Center and when you appeared on the local morning television programs. You looked so cool in your lab jacket.

Most everyone is dealing with your departure in their own way. Mom is incredibly lonely without you, her companion for over 50 years. That’s a long time to hear someone snore next to you. Maybe I should install a gasoline generator in her room to simulate the racket and she would sleep better then.

Kelli has gone a bit crazy without you. Hopefully, she can pull her life together, but that is something she will have to do on her own.

Dan is busy raising his family and carrying on the tradition of camping in a RV instead of a tent. I know that might be cheating, but it is a lot more comfortable with AC and electricity.

Gena is spending a lot of time with Mom helping her when she can make the drive from Richmond. She has her hands full with 2 kids and lots of wicks burning her candle down.

Justin has become more like you every day. There are times when I think that he is what you would have been like when you were younger. You would be very proud of him I think.

Kristina mourns for you long distance. She hates that she did not get to see you more before you left us. She has asked me for a bunch of photos of you to hang up in her home in North Carolina.

Sara and Tyler seem to be coping pretty well. They might not show it if they were not. They are in good hands with Mom raising them. They had better do their chores or suffer the dreaded flyswatter.

And that leaves me. I miss you too, but I feel like I am walking with you as my constant companion. If I look in the mirror, I see you. If I interact with children… I hear your voice and even use some of the same tricks you used on us to keep us entertained, though I have not attempted the fiery puffs of flame that you somehow surprised people with. I am not magician like you were.

The times I feel closest to you are in the deep woods right before sunset with the low beams of the sun lighting the side of the trees and leaves. There is such a peacefulness there without cars, cell phones or the constant background noise of modern life. There is just the rustle of leaves and the chatter of birds… many of which I know you could have identified and imitated with your virtuosic whistling skills.

In other news, I am sorry to have to tell you, that your beloved hoard of treasures has been discovered. Dan and Gena have been cleaning out your secret stashes around the house including your “drawer of trinkets”, your “closet of secrets” and your “shed of fortune”. They found many wonderful things like Reagan-era Band-Aids, old watches, souvenirs, ancient paperwork, $600 in cash and also an uncashed vintage check from 2003 worth over a $1300. Uh oh… you are in trouble with Mom. I am sure you will hear about that.

They have not attempted to clean out the attic or garage yet because we found out that dumpsters have a limit to what they can hold. Plus, we have to build a walkway through the expertly stacked strata of boxes, scientific equipment and biology books dating back to Darwin’s time.

Many friends have come by to visit Mom or give a call. She has had a lively time sharing stories and hearing how you touched people’s lives. Some of these folks have not been heard from in decades. Even now, the news continues to travel through the grapevine of your passing, and it still hits hard even months after the funeral is over.

Speaking of the funeral, I hope you saw it. The place was packed and there were even people standing in the back. Tons of old friends were there from Camp Chanco, relatives, neighbors, clergy, church members and your school colleagues. We sang all the favorite songs and it really took me back to the time you directed the camp in the 70’s. Some of the people have not changed much like Ron. He had the place roaring with laughter as he described the hi-jinx you guys shared. Some flew thousands of miles to be there including your 90+ year old Uncle. His quote “you bet your ass I’ll be there”. One interrupted her cancer treatments to come. None of them would have missed it for the world.

The one thing that I heard over and over is how incredible the service was and what a great person you were to so many different people. You had no fewer than 8 or 9 eulogies. There were many facets of your life to be celebrated including your college friendships, your incredible teaching career spanning over 53 years, your traveling camps and also Camp Chanco. Then, your family got to share their thoughts. Dan was too busted up to talk. I almost did not make it through my speech. Thankfully, people laughed at my bad jokes. Ellie’s speech was way beyond her young teenage years and Justin’s words inspired me and reminded me of you.

The memorial service was decked out with lots of photos that I took of you. We used the one of you and Mom for the printed program. That was the one that had a sparkle in your eye and captured your mischievous spirit. I put a photo of you in your native headdress and the one of you sitting on the live oak tree in your crypt. I hope you don’t mind because you are kinda stuck with them now.

Well, that is about it for now. I hope you are adjusting to your new home and are making room for the rest of us. I hope you have found some of your long departed buddies to pal around with in Heaven. I hope you are laughing and remember us too. We love and miss you Charles E. Hughes.

We can continue this conversation on our next walk in the woods. I know you will be there.

Luv Andy

Nov 03
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The Secret Forest of Charles Hughes

By Charles Hughes, Education, Teachers, Virginia Beach

I made this book about my father last year, but never wrote about it in this blog. Some of you may already know the book or own it, but for anyone else stumbling upon this, these are the actual page spreads. You can view The Sceret Forest of Charles Hughes as a PDF file here.

This is cover and introduction page.

On a trip back to Virginia, my father, Charles Hughes, took me to see his classroom at the Maritime School in Norfolk, Virginia. My father has spent a majority of his life teaching children and young adults of all ages.

His classroom is very unique and you likely will never see another room like it. There are scientific treasures everywhere that you look. Most of them collected and preserved by Charles himself.

You could easily be looking at exhibits from a science museum with strange collected creatures and live animals in aquariums.

Behind the school, the teaching continues in a unique outdoor classroom under a single pine tree. A circular bench was constructed where whole classes of children could be taken and taught about nature.

Beyond this point, behind an unassuming chain link fence is a truly magical place… the place that I call the “Secret Forest of Charles Hughes”.

The forest is rare to the east coast of Virginia because it contains extremely old and large live oaks that could be hundreds of years old.

Many of these forests were destroyed for fuel or building materials so the fact that this one survived in such a populated area is surprising.

Though the forest is protected now by a fence, it was not always so. The community came together to run off vagrants and remove thousands of pounds of trash from the forest. Some of the damage can still be seen like these huge fire pits.

My father and others realized the important ecosystem that was a few hundred yards from the school and the fantastic opportunity to save a unique place for future generations.

I took photos in the classrooms and forest so I could make a book about it as a present of appreciation for my father. I know that he liked it and so did many of his friends. The library of his school asked for a copy so the kids would know more about it.

This project is the closest one to my heart and tries to capture the dedication of a man who has taught over 50 years, and a genius who has inspired  generations of students into knowing that not all knowledge comes from a book…. some of it has to be discovered for yourself.

Dec 01
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The Thanksgiving Story Teller

By Charles Hughes, portraits

Charles Hughes
My father is a gifted story teller… always has been for as long as I can remember. Some of the tales he that he tells revolve around native culture and how ingenuous their way of life was.

Every year around Thanksgiving he shares his knowledge and enthusiasm for Native American culture with children at church.

He dresses in a native outfit that he made himself through countless hours of work. It is probably 40 years old or more by now. If those feathers could talk, they would reveal many adventures and a few secrets.

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