Good morning, my name is Paul Logan Enright. I respond to either Paul or Logan. I was my Mother's fifth and last child. She insisted on no long and emotional speeches here, so I'll at least comply with the length issue. By the way as we all know, Mom was NOT a morning person. I must tell you, she never would have approved of this time of day her for mass.

I was here a few weeks ago from my home in California, and was preparing to leave her nursing home. The next morning I was to fly back home. I said to her "Mom, I am leaving now, and quite likely we won't see each other again." I went on to say, "I am trying to think of something profound to say". She thought for a moment and with a calm look in her eyes, said: "You'll think of something". She displayed optimism and courage. She believed in people, even when they questioned themselves.

Anne Rita Mackie, better known by many as Nan, was born in Worcester, Massachusetts May 12, 1912. She was the youngest of five, daughter of Charles Mackie and Mary Ellen Quinn, descendants of Scottish and Irish immigrants. She was raised in Pittsfield, in western Massachusetts. Her father owned a florist shop on North Street. The parents of her future husband, our father, owned the shoe store across the street. A product of the late Victorian era, Nan and her contemporaries experienced the first generation of electric lights, telephones and automobiles. While Mom’s siblings have passed on, her eldest sister is a Maryknoll religious, Sr. Beata Mackie, who just turned 100 years old last March.

My Mother had a close relationship with her parents and family. Her mother created beautiful hand- made dresses her. Her father, who privately converted himself to Catholicism, loved boating. They would take day trips on the Hudson and Housatonic Rivers as a family. As a little girl she would sit next to her grandfather who had lost part of his leg in the Civil War. She would knock on his prosthesis. "Ouch" he would say as if he could feel it. He taught her to read when she was four.

She attended the College of New Rochelle in New York but had to drop out when funds were tight during the Great Depression. She recently said her college years in New York were the most carefree and enjoyable times of her life. She and her friends would get dressed to the nines and attend clubs and even a few Speak Easys in those prohibition years.

Although she never imagined herself as a nurse, under the advice of her mother she went on to St Elizabeth School of Nursing in Brighton, MA where she graduated with honours. She became a registered nurse. This mentoring from her mother ended up saving our Mother and all of us eventually.

She married my father, John Richard Enright in 1937 after a one-year courtship. They met at the wedding of HIS sister to HER brother! He was a handsome and charming young graduate of Seton Hall and Fordham Law School. He became an attorney for the US Treasury, Estate Tax Bureau in Boston.

They lived in Pittsfield then Randolph, Massachusetts in their first years of marriage and in 1944 moved to 4 Pine Street, Winchester. An associate of Dad's from Boston then called Winchester the Promised Land. That house that they purchased in '44 was just sold by our family - she lived in it for 57 years until March.

They had five children. John, her first born, died tragically in 1989 - it devastated my mother and all of us. The rest of us are living in the Boston area except for myself. Mom always wanted the best for her children, 18 grandchildren, one great grandchild and one on the way. She worked tirelessly to create and provide that.

My mother took a job as a school nurse in the mid 50s, for the City of Boston after my father's first heart attack in 1952. His next heart attack killed him in 1961. With five children between the ages of 10 and 22, and at the age of 49 she became a widow. She was determined to get us all through college with bachelor's degrees - an achievement that gave her enormous pride.

Later, she was fortunate enough to have a loving, romantic and adoring second husband in Lester Gustin. Gus and Nan did everything together - they worshipped each other. They had ten wonderful years together until his passing in 1987.

Part of Nan's legacy was service and generosity to others. My Dad required much care throughout their marriage. Her Aunts, Kitty and Mabel, were quite needy in their old age. Mother came to their aid with unwavering and complete support. Mabel even lived with us for the last 10 years of her life. Mom was a true giver - The most generous person one would ever hope to meet.

Her five kids and grandkids were the loves of her life. She stood by us through every turn. I went to San Francisco in 1972, after dropping out of college temporarily. I had a backpack, a few dollars and no plan. My mother was ALWAYS there for me. She believed in me. She believed in ALL her kids and ALL of God's kids.

Her love of cats was legendary; especially her beloved Aiko, whose name not coincidentally rhymes with psycho. She loved Johnnie Carson's monologues, crossword puzzles and antique furniture. She was a big Boston Celtic fan, especially during the Larry Byrd years - she disapproved of my rooting for the Lakers in those years. Midnight snacks included ginger ale, bologna sandwiches on Pepperidge Farm white bread with a little butter.

Above all she loved to learn. History and the study of civilization fascinated her. She might be found sitting in her corner of the pink couch watching a show on The Crusades while looking up the subject in the encyclopedia.

She admired hard work, good teeth, proper etiquette and the correct use of pronouns. She treasured Victorian era design and was an active member of the Winchester Historical Society for years. Nan devoured mystery novels especially the works of PD James.

She loved to brag about her kid's accomplishments: John's great long letter and stories, Steve’s undaunted composure and quick whit, Marie’s gentle spirit and love of nature and beauty, Chris’ easy laugh in the face of adversity, and my carefree, adventurous nature and business sense.

She loved to laugh at her kid's rapid-fire humor. Especially John, Steve and Marie would have her in stitches with their special brand of quick-whited, off the cuff nonsense. Chris and I sort of got it, but really just loved the interaction between the older kids and Mom.

I will miss calling her late at night - knowing she's there by the phone. She was ALWAYS there. She was always up past midnight, very convenient for her West Coast family members.

I will miss her signature facial expressions like peering over her reading glasses at you with that face that said: "I don't really get what you are saying, but I am giving you a chance to convince me". And she would give you every chance to convince her. She was patient and reasonable always.

She could be silly. Sticking maple pods on our noses at the Stoneham Zoo. Allowing her picture to be taken with my daughter's stuffed bear. Talking baby talk to Aiko. Late at night, when in a relaxed mood she would stand behind her chair in the kitchen bracing it, with a gaping mouth acting like the words couldn't get out, and being simply silly.

Even the typing skills that were used to compose this writing can be traced to Mom. She insisted I take personal typing in Jr. High when other guys were taking apart cars. I think she called that one right, like so many things she insisted upon.

Nan was a thoroughly modern woman. She was a true Renaissance woman who was often compared to Katherine Hepburn. Although feminism was a concept she understood and admired, she didn't simply talk about it, she lived it.

I remember the first time she heard the word "bummer". She asked me what is meant and I explained a bummer is a noun for a bad thing or event - something sort of tragic. She had incorporated it into her vocabulary by the end of that summer.

And in the end she renewed her relations with God. When asked about the priest who visited her a month before she passed, and did he pray with her? She said: "Yes, I received EVERY sacrament ever created since the Byzantine Empire"

So for the lady who was born just weeks after the sinking of the Titanic, and who left us only weeks after the tragic events of September 11, 2001, we say: So long, Mom, we love you so much and will always cherish our memories of you!  Goodbye "sweetie".