Stewart R Mott Tribute

What can one say about Stuart Mott? My memories of him are from the 1970's. Richard Nixon, seedy bars in Flint, the trunk at the cottage, Rick Anderson, psychic adventures. Stuart did not shy away from curiosities. He also created a few odd realities himself. He was at times genuine, beguiling, confused and focused. Dip your hand in the stream of his life and you will only have a drop of who he was.

He did the very best he could with what he had.

Yesterday Darlene and I lost a very dear friend, Stewart Mott. I was introduced to Stewart by Ralph Richardson, a close friend in Bermuda. We were invited to stay in Bermuda at Parapet, Stewart's 1700's mansion on the hill. Over the years it was where we stayed when in Bermuda. Stewart would have it no other way.

Stewart and I had long conversations about all kinds of subjects. He challenged me, argued with me, fought points of view, took an interest in my activities that I was doing particularly in Bermuda. Many spring and summers were spent with Stewart. We would sometimes be there for weeks at a time. One time we flew over on a friends jet to Bermuda for the weekend, and stopped with these friends at a restaurant to have a bite before we headed to Stewart's house. He was waiting for us, found out what time we had touched down, made a few phone calls and tracked us down to the restaurant wanting to know know time we were coming home. He loved Darlene's cooking, was mad about her and teased me that he only tolerated me as she came with a package.

I was asked by the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Labor to visit all the public schools and the prisons in Bermuda, and we lived with Stewart for a month. In the mornings outside our bedroom door would be printed, bold, colorfully inked computer generated notes (he loved using green, bold, enlargements for certain statements) with either the daily activities, or wanting to know what time we would be home. These notes were also e-mailed to us, so there was no mistaking that we did not get them. Oh, and don't call him before 10 o'clock in the morning as he was still sleeping after writing these notes some time before 6 am having been on the computer all night. And if someone called for me before that hour, I would get an earful. (Thanks Ralph...I still have an ear ache from your early morning calls that Stewball answered. Hope your ears are still ringing too...)

I spoke at Bermuda College and Stewart came to hear me, Darlene saw him crying), and at other events where I spoke, and afterwards would critic me. There was no getting around his opinions. I was going to hear them as he saw them, challenging me to be better. We would play scrabble and he would wear me out.

Parapet had striking gardens. I loved being in the gardens, looking at all the things he had directed Calos to plant. His goal was a 100 fruits and vegetables, many of which Stewart ended up cooking into the most unappetizing meals. He always had some project, whether it was in the kitchen doing mass cooking or baking, or in the dinning room stuffing hand sown baggies with cedar sawdust.

There never was a dull time around Stewart. He loved people and when we stayed at Parapet, we never knew who some of the other house guests might be, or who would be showing up at the house. He introduced us to Presidents, dignitaries, leaders, to humanitarians and everyday folks doing extra ordinary work. He loved cocktail parties at his house, and taught me to enjoy drinking Dark and Stormies. We spoke on e-mail, on the phone and hours on end in person, he was always finding ways of connecting people. His office was chaos. At times his life a mess, but his heart was always beating to make the world and its people a better place. We will miss you, Stewball.