I was a teacher  in several of the elementary schools & knew both Dottie & Allen .  Fantastic people .  Remembered Allen's family when they had the  Ice cream Shop on Franklin St. Also,Mrs. Andrews did some catering for teacher luncheons at Hosmer School in the 50's & 60's.   Watertown was a great place to live & work. So many wonderful people--especially Allen & Dottie.  May they be resting in PEACE with each other now.    Mary Keenan

"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

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 was '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 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.

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"

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.

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"

I am the daughter of Helen Andrews Stevenson.  Honey and my mother were
cousins.  The pictures were taking on an annivery cruise out of Barrington
Rhode Island in 1993 for  the 50thannivery of my Aunt Barbara Andrews Combellack and my uncle Philip Combellack.
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