One of my favorite pictures.  He always wore the same sunglasses. Such a classy guy!
Allen Palmer Andrews
  • 92 years old
  • Date of birth: May 31, 1925
  • Date of passing: Nov 1, 2017
Let the memory of Allen be with us forever

Dear Friends,

Thank you for visiting and helping us celebrate Allen's life. A life that was so tremendously full of family, friends, laughter, adventure and always LOVE.  

Allen was a man who touched so many people, always making that person feel like the most important person at that moment.  We hope you will take a moment to share with us your memories about Allen; because whether you knew him as your teacher, friend, co-worker, neighbor or family member we are certain that you have stories to tell!  And we hope that you will enjoy the photographs and read the memories that we have shared in the Tributes and Stories sections on this site. You may even want to click on the Gallery button (above) and watch the video of Dad playing his harmonica at 90 years of age! He will be missed but he will be remembered by all of us with smiles and laughter and love.

                                               With warmest thoughts,


                                               Ralph & Denise, Dana & Ann, 
                                               Judy & Joe, Patti & Kevin       

**Note:  The background music can be turned off by clicking on the "sound" button above which may be less distracting as you read or write. And if you're not sure "who is who" in the photos, you may click on the photo to watch the slideshow in a larger version with captions included.

Memorial Tributes
This tribute was added by Virginia Burke on 15th November 2017

"It's incredible that I have known the Andrew's family since September 1971. In junior high, students had to pick some courses at the high school. I picked woodworking. I now know after a flurry of phone calls about whether a girl could be in the woodshop, that choice was officially sanctioned by Allen Andrews.
This was the beginning of a wonderful friendship! Allen, with a beard,  welcomed me to the shop. The wooden floors, hooks of shop coats, the shop benches, lathes, clamps  and the ever present boat, that Mr. Andrews was working on. Of course don't touch the boat!
He said he wasn't going to treat me any more special than any other student but he did. Yes, I was a tomboy but was all girl on the inside. He let me take any tools I wanted (especially from the cute boys) and was extremely patient with me.  OK, this girl didn't know much wood working but I was thrilled to learn everything!
Allen, Dorothy  and the Andrews family were a huge foundation stone for my life. Allen pushed and expected the bes,t after all "perfect is good enough"! Everyone I met through them, including my future husband, only reinforced my avocation and my vocation.
I can honestly say that every day when working on my home or helping my adult kids with their's, I give kudos to Allen. He was a gentleman, a master craftsman and I'm proud to say my friend.
Fairwinds and following seas Allen.
Love Ginger"

This tribute was added by P J on 14th November 2017

"A life well lived!  That is obvious from all the fond memories shared.  Imagine a joyful life that never ends and never suffers the scourge of growing old and dying. God has promised to bring about a time when we will see our loved ones again at Revelations 21:4. At that time all mankind will enjoy perfect health on a paradise earth.  Until then may the God of all comfort embrace the family and friends of your dear loved one."

This tribute was added by patti arsenault on 13th November 2017

"To all of the Andrews kids and grand kids and Kings and McAlarneys:  What great memories you write about - I was smiling reading each one, knowing where it was coming from.  I too, took Allen's night school woodworking class and witnessed his teaching abilities.  I can remember camping at Saco River in North Conway and him scolding us girls for giggling at someone who had tripped on something.  And then came in close and told us we should hold our giggles till we got back home and then laugh!  

I can remember being with Dottie and Allen at Lowell Ave in Watertown, Horseneck beach, Hermit Island and Bradenton.  My sister Judy and I took the gang out to Bradenton Beach probably the last time they were all together - Frank and Florris, Dottie and Allen, Dale and Eileen and Avis and Harold.  They loved each other and they taught us how to have fun,

Cheers Allen - Give Dottie a smooch for me!"

This tribute was added by JOE VITELLO on 12th November 2017

"WE MET ON THE FL KEYS.. WE MET ON BOW LAKE.. WE MET IN ALASKA. FUN TIMES  ALWAYS REMEMBERED..XX
.        
JOE AND BARB"

This tribute was added by Paul McAlarney (Allen's Grandson) on 12th November 2017

"Growing up, Grampie was one of my biggest heroes. I cherished every moment I spent with him, no matter what we were doing. Even if it was something I didn't enjoy, such as doing the dishes after a dinner in the screen room in Northwood or eating Grammie's god awful microwaved hot dogs at said dinner, if Grampie was a part of the occasion, I cherished it. There was a kind of magic that I felt in his presence, something that at the time I attributed to the change of scenery when I'd spend the night at Grammie and Grampie's in Northwood, or a few days in Bradenton, FL, or go out for dinner at Weathervane, but I realized years later that this magic was a feeling effected by Grampie's embodiment of "the good old days", or so it seemed to me. I was too young to have remembered "the good old days" when I was aware of this magical feeling; since I was less than a decade old, "the good old days" might as well have been "last week", but I was aware enough, even then, that the world had existed before I was born (hard to imagine, I know, but just trust me). I learned from watching movies and hearing stories that "the good old days" were days when youngsters could steal a car, shoot guns, disappear on adventures for days without causing a panic, get in harmless brawls, sneak cigarettes and beer from their parents, etc. and while Grampie endorsed NONE of this behavior, it felt as if that was the wild life Grampie had lived as a boy and so therefore by being in his company, I could enjoy a little taste of the wild, boys will be boys, "good old days". And while Grampie and I never stole a car, got in harmless brawls, or snuck cigarettes and beer from anybody, we did have some incredible adventures together, and ones that felt reminiscent of an anything-goes, wild yesteryear for boys that I had been born too late to experience.

Every morning in Northwood, I would wake early and run down the road to meet Grampie and walk together to the causeway to catch snakes. Occasionally Grammie would join us, and sometimes a brother or cousin would join us as well, but after one or two early morning walks, most of the brothers and cousins failed to see the excitement in our walks and soon retired their post in our walking group. So, in the end, it was Grampie and I, walking to the causeway every morning in search of snakes. While the actual hunt for snakes was invigorating, like I was hunting prehistoric anaconda in the Amazon jungle, it was the time spent with Grampie that I truly enjoyed. I was reliving his boyhood, it seemed, and that was the best feeling I could ever ask for, and one that I would wake early every morning to experience. As life went on and I got older and Grampie got older, our walks became a thing of the past and eventually so did my snake-hunting. But our bond never faded and we found new connections to embrace, even if they had nothing to do with snakes or guns or stealing cars and getting in boyhood brawls. Even when I would spend a few days in Palm Beach, pushing Grampie and Grammie on their wagon train of wheelchairs from store to store in the mall in search of a clock (don't ask me why...), I couldn't help but feel that we were on a grand boyhood adventure again.

I learned many invaluable life lessons from Grampie that I will carry with me until the end of my life and hopefully pass on to my children and others, but I can't say that Grampie taught me how to be a man as much as, say, my father did. Instead, Grampie taught me how to be a boy, and how to hold on to the imagination, sense of adventure, insatiable curiosity, and unconditional joy of boyhood throughout my adult life. Anyone that knows me well knows that these values have not waned in the slightest.

As Grampie neared the end of his life over the past few years, I made it a point to still see him periodically and spend quality time together, whether it was by spending a few days in Florida with him and Grammie, or stopping by to see him in Melrose more recently, because I knew that when he was gone, I would regret not having made time to see him and because I wanted to keep our magic bond intact right up until the end of his life. I know there are probably many people who saw something unique in Grampie's eyes when he saw them in the past few years and I believe every one of them; even in Grampie's increasing state of dementia, I'm sure there were many of us in whom he recognized something beyond just our name or our relationship to him - a special bond, connection, ethic, etc. - and we probably each saw in his eyes an awareness of the unique association. For me personally, I like to think, and do firmly believe, that the look I saw in his eyes, that brief moment of subtly excited familiarity, was him remembering reliving some parts of his boyhood with me when I was a boy, hunting snakes at the causeway on our summer morning walks in Northwood.

Rest in Peace, Grampie! Love you always, Paul."

This tribute was added by Patricia McAlarney (Allen's Daughter) on 12th November 2017

"For as long as I can remember, Dad never stopped moving. He was only happy when he was building, fixing or tinkering with something or other. This worked perfectly for Mom who, with a wave of her hand could declare that the house needed an addition, rooms needed to be wallpapered, cabinets or furniture needed to be built ...and BAM...Dad would make it happen. Broken things would disappear to Dad's workshop and come back better than new. Toy boxes were in production within moments of an announcement that a new grand baby was to be born...and if the baby was a girl...BAM...a dollhouse, too! When Dad came to visit our homes he inevitably ended up with tools in hand. There was always a door knob to be tightened...a broken something-or-other to be repaired and a plea for "Dad could you just take a look at this?"  You never actually knew 'when' he was getting all these projects done because he was just always in motion - never hurried...just constant, and usually with a grandchild or two "helping." He was a natural born educator who would teach you how to do something but then let you do it on your own. He happily shared his knowledge and his tools...but you better know exactly where that tool belonged in the shop because "there is a place for everything, and everything must be in its place!" Tools were sacred to Dad - he cautioned us that a dull tool is a dangerous tool, so keep them sharp. Always use the tool that is meant for the job, and know how a tool works and what it is called. I can still hear Dad carrying on about 'calling a spade, a spade"...not a hoe..not a pitchfork...and if you asked him for a screwdriver, you better know which type to ask for.

When I was first got married I took my Dad's night school class at Watertown High. I'd have dinner at my parents' house and during dinner Dad would lay out the most efficient plan for that night's project. The strategy sessions were crucial since the minute Dad walked into the shop he was met by 15 novice woodworkers all vying for his attention and all of whom were one slip away from losing a finger, or ten! My purpose for taking the class was to fill my home with furniture, which I did, but I gained a whole lot more. I got to see my Dad from a brand new perspective and I was so proud. And it's funny how lessons he taught in wood shop translate to every aspect of life; especially his constant admonition to  Always measure twice, because you only cut once.  

In addition to 'moving,' Dad was constantly singing. When we were growing up he would wake us up with a far-too-cheery "Birdie with a Yellow Bill" song that as teenagers we learned to love to hate (especially on Saturday mornings.) As Dad liked say, "When Allen gets up, EVERYBODY gets up!")  And when we were young he would tuck us into bed singing "Now the Sun is in the West," a song that his Dad used to sing to him. But Dad also loved silly ditties (often with slightly naughty lyrics!) And two of his favorite songs were "Mares Eat Oats" and "Elmer's Tune!" As Dad declined over the past year it became increasingly difficult to hold a conversation with him. But, amazingly, if I just began to sing one of his favorite songs, he would suddenly chime in-often helping me with lyrics that I had forgotten!

People have kindly offered condolences for Dad's passing, but the honest truth is that Dad is now exactly where he wanted to be...with Mom. His 92 years were well spent and he has left us with so many stories, lessons and fond memories that will be passed along on for ages."

This tribute was added by Denise Andrews (Allen's Daughter-In-Law) on 12th November 2017

"Devoted husband, loving father, caring son, endearing grandfather, exceptional teacher, jack of all trades, man of integrity, good neighbor, hardworking businessman, storyteller, hunter, Mason, devout Christian...these are just a few important things that come to my mind when thinking about Allen... The Man, The Myth, The Legend.  
Allen, may you rest in peace, together, now with Dottie by your side.  We find peace in knowing the you are together once again.  Love, Denise"

This tribute was added by Andrew King (Grandson) on 11th November 2017

"Grampie excelled at building and fixing just about anything.  When I was writing down a list of memories to share, it also occurred to me that Grampie also had incredible patience, and a desire to share his knowledge with others.  A mere 200 feet away from our house in Northwood, his shop always provided a "safe" environment to partake in all the activities Northwood had to offer.  He was always willing to help me over-engineer and build my school projects, invite me on their morning walks, or empty out the trunk of the Taurus wagon so that I could sit facing backward.  I can't imagine how many times he watched me almost cut my fingers off splitting kindling in his shop, or how he was able to ignore the noise of the bench grinder while I "sharpened" his tools.  He never said no to having a fire, whether it was to burn wood or trash, and was a great teacher when it came to shooting guns, wrist rockets, and fireworks.  He turned a blind eye when I would pilfer his garden, and was my partner-in-crime when I wanted a mohawk.  To say I had a lot of energy as a kid would be an understatement, and when I would eventually wander over to Grammpie and Grampie's house, he would let me "help" him with his projects no matter how much longer it would take.  Spending the summers growing up in Northwood is one of my fondest memories, and it is no surprise that Grampie played a prominent role.  I'll miss Grampie a lot, but have lots of lessons and memories I will never forget."

This tribute was added by Joseph King (Son-in-Law) on 11th November 2017

"I met Allen & Dottie when I started dating Judy in 10th grade.  Although I was an awkward high school kid, Allen and Dottie always made me feel like a part of the family when I would come over.  I knew right away Allen could fix anything at any time because one night around 10pm when Judy and I were alone on the front steps he came out to fix the doorbell.  He had a great sense of humor that never left him right up to the end.  On my first overnight visit to Duxbury, in front of everybody, he gave me a pot holder made to slip over the long handle of a frying pan and said “you might need this, it gets cold around here at night”.  Having raced cars in his early years, he was a great driver and certainly impressed this young driver with his dirt track style power slides around the streets of Watertown (OK, it was snowy, not dry pavement).  He was a diehard Ford man.  Who but Allen would buy a full size Granada sedan with a manual transmission?  Oh wait, I think I know why.  It must have been cheaper than an automatic.  Some might say he was cheap, I like to think he was frugal in the best old Yankee tradition.  When we tore down the old camp to start building the cottage, he had us take out the old nails and straighten them so we could reuse them.  Besides being a master craftsman he considered himself a master hunter and trapper.  He had 3 or 4 deer antler racks he proudly displayed to prove it.  Mind you, this was the result of at least 40 hunting trips so you can be the judge.  If we couldn’t count on venison, we could count on a free Christmas tree or two from the woods of Maine.  I say two because we would have to splice two together to get one half decent one.  Speaking of trapping, in Northwood he was the neighborhood exterminator. We didn’t even realize there was a problem because there wasn’t until Allen started putting out bait.  I can recall he had to drive half way around Bow Lake with his foot holding the car door open because the caged skunk inside didn’t appreciate the free ride to a new home.  The next time it was Plan B.  Use a shotgun!  Turns out when you pulverize a scent sack it stinks up the entire neighborhood for a week.  Almost smelled as bad as when he would burn his garbage in the 55 gallon drum out back.  We did convince him to start bringing his trash to the dump and that worked fine for many years until the infamous “Lincoln Log Incident” which resulted in him being banned from the dump.  I would like to think Allen would appreciate the good natured ribbing but in all seriousness Allen was a fantastic father-in-law and Grampie.  Spending summers next door to Grammie and Grampie had an incredibly positive influence on our kids during their formative years.  Always the teacher, he passed on strong sense of curiosity and work ethic to his grandchildren. He taught me a lot about working with my hands and was a great example of how to live a life of commitment and integrity.  Allen, the best father-in-law ever, may you rest in peace."

This tribute was added by Kelsey McAlarney - Granddaughter on 11th November 2017

"Grampie always amazed me. Every time I saw him he was smiling, laughing, singing or whistling, I don't remember ever seeing him in any kind of a bad mood. Even when I would visit him these last few years, he always had a smile on ready to share any story we wanted to hear. My senior recital is coming up, and there was one song that I had never quite connected to until now. It is about a person asking the breeze to check on their loved one, and in the end of the piece it is about them being reunited. That song became my favorite because now, when I sing it, I see Grammie checking up on you, and you two being reunited again.

Something Grampie would always stay that has stuck with me as my mantra is "a job worth doing is worth doing well." As a kid, I absolutely hated that, my mom would use it to make me wash the dishes better and clean my room thoroughly. But, as I've grown older, I've embraced the mindset he taught to his daughter, and that they both taught me. Now, whenever I feel ready to give up and leave a project as "good enough," his voice reminds me that "a job worth doing, is worth doing well."

Grampie, thank you for showing me how to embrace every day with a smile and a song, thank you for raising such a strong woman that I get to call my Mom and role model, and thank you for the impact you have had on everyone who knew you. I'll be thinking of you often. <3"

This tribute was added by Ralph Andrews (Allen's son) on 11th November 2017

"I have a mostly hand carved wooden boat in Northwood NH. When I was about 7 or 8  Dad brought me to work, Sport Haven Boat.   I told him I wanted to build a boat to use at the beach.  He took the time to help me design the boat, and select the piece of wood.  He stood by me instructing me how to use the band saw to cut out the basic shape of the boat.  He then showed me how to use a chisel.  From there I was on my own.  He was totally hands off, he left me to make my own mistakes. At the end of the day I painted the hull red and the top stained brown.  I wanted it to look like one of his boats.  That boat could skim across the water like nothing I have ever seen before.  A year or so ago I was at the lake doing some work and brought the boat down to the beach to see if it skimmed like I remembered.  It performed better than I remembered. This is the first of many lessons I learned from a man who had so much to offer and so willing to share.   Thanks Dad
I can't talk about Maine because as he said what happens in Maine stays in Maine.  He said this well before it became Las Vegas's mantra.
When my mother passed I went to stay with him for awhile.  I was asking him about WWII and his service.  He said he was assigned to a ship called the Santa Rosa.  I looked it up on google and said no Dad that was a cruise ship.  He said Yup and I had a state room.  I found a picture and showed him and he said yes It was a converted cruise ship.  They painted is grey and added guns.  We spent all day talking about his war experiences and that ship.  Some of the stories he told me I swear were replicated on the TV show McHales Navy.

You will certainly be missed and am so glad had you to guide me through life.

Love Ralph"

This tribute was added by Adam King on 11th November 2017

"One thing that will always stick with me is the smell of Grampies workshop.  I've done this every season, especially since moving away to Colorado.  I have three "Must do's" when I fly home from Colorado.  I stop in Melrose at Petrones to get a Boneless Buffalo Calzone, I take the boat on a sunset spin around the island by myself before tying it up, and I run my hand under the second step of Grampies shed to find the key, unlock that door to decades worth of burned firewood in the cast iron stove, motor oil, and shear manliness that eminates
from that 5'x20' shed.  I've got pictures of it so I can try to replicate it sometime when I have my own cabin in the woods.  Grampies shed is childhood for us King boys.  

Don't tell Mom, but there's a bandsaw in here that you can cut steel with.  You can take the tarp off the tablesaw outside and rip plywood all day.  You better chop some firewood, how else are we going to survive the winter here?  Lets trap skunks cause it's fun!  There's hard lessons to be learned too, like if you touch 'Ol Beauty, well Mom is gonna kick your ass.  You don't play with guns without Grampie around.  Or pack anthills with the fireworks Grampie gave you, definitely don't do that without Grampie or ever tell Mom that.  Or shoot bottlerockets down at the beach at the non-locals :).  Worms, if boiled in old tin cans just right, taste delicious.  Pro-tip for anyone who didn't have Grampie around growing up - they don't.  Don't ever admit it, just say yes.  

I always hear from my friends and now family "how did you learn to do that?"  Well, I learned a lot from my dad.  I learned a lot from Grampie too.  I learned most from both, they probably won't admit it but they learned a lot from each other.  What I learned the most from from Grampie was - don't be afraid.  Let's try it out and have some fun, wreck a lot of prototypes, we've got the shop so lets play around.  Try it once, then do it better.  The shop is your playground to try things and mess up, then try it again.  

If I take nothing else from Grampie, it's to have a shop for our kids to play around and mess up in, smell the burnt oil of experience and learn from it.  I'd say you were the best Grampie, but you ARE the best, you made us all better.  A real one of the Great Generation, and we can hope be as good as you were.  Love you, Grampie."

This tribute was added by Brian King on 9th November 2017

"If there is one place I always remember my grandfather being, it was in his workshop. I swear every tool which has ever been invented lived there. Men from all over Northwood would meander over to it like bees to honey to marvel and get a glimpse of the treasures he kept inside. From a young age, I was not infatuated by tools or woodworking, but I did learn a very important life lesson there nonetheless.

I had made the mistake one day of borrowing one of his extension cables to help with yardwork and then returning it in a less than ideal state tangled up on the floor. The next morning when I had walked over to most likely steal some snap peas from his garden, he came over to me and said:

"Brian, you'll never believe what I found in my shop last night. Someone left a big heap of spaghetti on the floor"

Me being the ever so gullible, slightly overweight, and always hungry child that I was, ran over to the workshop to find out what kind of magic spaghetti wizard had left this gift. To my absolute dismay though, when I got there I realized he was talking about his red extension cable I had left disheveled the day before. Suddenly my mind went from thinking where I could find some cheese to go with all this spaghetti to, "oh man, I'm in trouble".

Even though I had walked into his mecca of masculinity and defiled it, he did not lose his temper. He walked over to the extension cord, and took his time showing me how to properly wrap it up and where to put it away. Bear in mind, the only thing I hated more than yardwork as a kid was cleaning up my tools after the yardwork was done. To me, the only thing on my mind after chores was "how fast can I finish this up so I can go back to watching Nickelodeon or playing with my cousins". He didn't try and sugar-coat the task by making it fun or threaten to punish me if I didn't do it correctly again, but simply told me that it was my duty to do this correct. He taught me that a man must always take care of his tools, and that if I was going to borrow something from someone else, at the very least I can put it away exactly how I found it.

To this day I still loathe putting away my tools after finishing a task, but I always make sure that they are properly stored and put away in their respective space. I am sure as you read through these stories, my grandfather's workshop will be mentioned many times. If not, the next time you are talking to one of Allen Andrews family members or friends, ask them about his shed in Northwood and I guarantee you will leave with a story and a different life-lesson he taught there."

This tribute was added by Judith King (Allen's Daughter) on 9th November 2017

"This posting is so bittersweet. So sad because both of my parents have now passed. So incredibly comforting because my Mom and Dad are together again. My parents did everything together for as long as I can remember.  My Dad passed almost 2 years to the day after my Mom passed. My dear sweet Dad experienced severe memory loss at the end of his life. It was hard for him to accept until the memory loss became so severe that he forgot it was a problem. It was hard for us to observe, but his memory loss became a blessing when our Mom, the love of his life passed. Dad accepted our excuses that Mom was at the hairdresser or Doctor’s office and always looked forward to her returning home to him. It would have been unbearable if he realized the truth. What my Father never lost was his beautiful smile, love for his family and his gentle, kind spirit. He was one of the nicest people that I have ever met in my life.
What I loved most about my Dad was his love for my Mom, his children and their spouses, grandchildren and great grandchildren. So many times I would ask Joe how he learned how to do some project and his response would be “your Dad taught me”.  Grampie made toy boxes for Adam, Andrew and Brian. After the boys stopped filling it with their toys, I used it as their “memory” box filling it with their art work, birthday letters, report cards, favorite “things”.  Now that Adam and Lauren are expecting our first Grandchild, we brought Adam’s toy box down from the attic so we can ship it to them in Colorado.  The toy box is pretty banged up. This happened after Grampie taught Adam how to use a hammer! As Grampie always said, “only perfect is good enough.” Adam now makes beautiful furniture. I remember Grampie gave Andrew a Mohawk haircut. I was horrified. When I asked whose brilliant idea this was. Andrew and Grampie pointed at each other and smiled! As a child, Brian always had Grammie and Grampie on speed dial so he could call them and tell them about any scrapes and bangs he had. Sometimes it was tough having a nurse for a Mom and he needed their comforting words to make everything better. As youngsters, the boys would venture over to Grammie and Grampie’s house in Northwood, first stopping at Grampie’s garden to snack on his tomatoes and snap peas. The woodshop became a magical place where the boys “helped” Grampie with his projects. Every visit ended with chocolate chip cookies from Grammie.
It is difficult to write about my Dad without mention of my Mom. Life was always “Mom and Dad”, “Dottie and Allen” and “Grammie and Grampie”. The last two years were bittersweet. While we cherished our time with Dad, we knew that their love story would be complete when they were together again.

                                      THE ESKIMO LEGEND

“PERHAPS THEY ARE NOT STARS BUT RATHER OPENINGS IN HEAVEN WHERE THE LOVE OF OUR LOST ONES POURS THROUGH AND SHINES DOWN UPON US TO LET US KNOW THEY ARE HAPPY”

I have to believe that this is true. On the night that my Dad passed, there were no stars in the sky, but there was a jet, far away, silently crossing the deep blue sky. I just thought “Way to go Dad! Safe travels until you meet up with Mom”. So, when you look up into the bright starry night, say hi to my parents.
When asked, my Mom would always say “Daddy and I are just fine” and indeed you are.
As my Dad would always say right up until the end of his life…“Love you more than tongue can tell”
Yes Dad, and I love you and Mom more than tongue can tell.  

Gentle hugs and kisses coming to you from me,
Judy"


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