Old Town bid farewell to a number of longtime residents and friends over the past few weeks.
News spread quickly that former businessman, City Council member and two term mayor Harry Hardingham passed away on Jan. 22, less than a year after pulling up stakes and moving to California to live with his daughter, Barbara.
It's been well over 50 years since Harry held elected office in this town. This city and its residents were never far from his mind or his heart. He was, in every sense of the word, an ambassador for our municipality. He was constantly promoting it wherever he went, and with whomever he spoke.
As often happens to couples who've been married a very long time, Harry died 11 months after his beloved wife, Marge, passed away. They had been married more than 70 years. On a sun-dappled, almost warm Tuesday morning on the last day of January, a mix of elected officials past and present, friends and family were on hand as the former mayor was remembered. His passion and love for our town will long be treasured.
You may not recognize the name Elfriede Claypool. A crossing guard forPrince George's County for several decades, Friede made sure that her charges made it safely to school, and back home again, day after day.
Friede spoke with a thick German accent as she chided us to hurry home from school, asked where our coats were and, a time or two, would inquire "where are your books?" to those of us apt to have forgotten them.
Her memory will live on in the countless students whose lives she made better and safer, and friends she made during her long tenure as a protector, friend and neighbor.
Finally, Thomas Boyle, a member of Laurel High School class of 1948, and a veteran of both the Navy and the Air Force, died on Jan. 25. Thomas was a letter carrier for 30 years and a longtime resident of Avondale Street. He called not too many weeks ago after reading one of my columns in the Leader. Turned out he was a friend of my father and uncles. We had a great conversation about Laurel, how it had changed, and compared notes on people we both knew.
We finished our call with a good laugh after I'd reminded him that I was his paperboy in the late '60s. Pragmatic and direct, he asked me if I remembered what the paper cost for a week back then? My reply was "37 cents a week" and his was "you're right on the money."
They will each be missed.