Christy’s loves
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Music.
Christy’s love of music was contagious and she was known to curate an amazing playlist to commemorate any event or even just her morning routine. Check out her playlists on Spotify below or a playlist inspired by her. Her love for Josh Ritter & They Might Be Giants was known by all. She was known to sing along with pop artists like Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Lizzo, Harry Styles and many more. Finding joy in sharing music with friends, in particular finding the perfect indie, folk, or rock song that spoke to the moment. And finding new music from her brothers, nephews/nieces, Young Women and reconnecting with old music loves like Mary Chapin Carpenter.
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Books.
Christy’s love of books brought her much joy and inspired many of us to follow her example. Christy’s favorites are really too many books and authors to name, but here are a few: Maggie O’Farrell, Circe, Zorrie, and the books listed in the photo above.
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You.
Photos of Christy with the people she loved can be found here. Please feel free to add more photos.
Travel. Art. Theater.
Christy, also loved art, visiting museums, traveling, and theater. Some of her favorites: the musicals - Sweeney Todd and Six; Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts; la Sagrada Família; the Utah Salt Flats; Boston; the beach; Spain; Ecuador; and so much more.
“OLD CHURCHYARD”
Traditional
Come, come with me to the old churchyard
I so well know these paths 'neath the soft green sward
Friends slumber in there that we want to regard
We will trace out their names in the old churchyard
Mourn not for them for their trials are o'er
Why weep for those who will weep no more
For sweet is their sleep, though cold and hard
Their pillows may be in the old churchyard
I know it's vain when friends depart
To breathe kind words to a broken heart
And I know that the joy of life is marre
When we follow lost friends to the old churchyard
But were I at rest 'neath yonder tree
Why would you weep, my friends, for me
I'm so weary, so wayworn, why would you retard
The peace that I seek in the old churchyard?
Why weep for me, for I'm anxious to go
To that haven of rest where no tears e'er flow?
And I fear not my fate when it's time to depart
I will sail with the sun in the old churchyard
I rest in the hope that one bright day
Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay
And the trumpets will sound on the hills near and far
Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard
I rest in the hope that one bright day
Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay
And the trumpets will sound on the hills near and far
Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard
The trumpets will sound on the hills near and far
Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard
