He is everywhere, still. From the artisanry of walkways leading to Town Hall and the Community Center, to the Town crew siting the skating rink for the Winter Festival, in children singing in the Believers Mennonite School.
As First Selectman, and Michael’s colleague Allan Cahill remarked, he was “Hampton’s number one son and Selectman Extraordinaire”. He was also a community ambassador, mediator, master gardener and grower, landscape designer, business guru, philosopher, storyteller, and to many, a cherished friend.
A self-described “parochial Windham County boy”, you didn’t get much more “Hampton” than Mike Chapel. He held “office hours” at the family homestead on Clark’s Corner. Usually in the mornings, you could find him in the kitchen discussing the day’s plans with friend and colleague Dave Johnson, fielding calls, dispensing advice and judicious counsel; one could stop in whenever the green GMC pickup was in residence. Everyone was welcome: to share good news or no, a randy joke, or pick his brain from an encyclopedia of subjects ranging from solar installations and dry wells to recipes for venison tenderloin. Seemingly, he was everywhere: you could also find him shoveling off the Town Hall roof with Allan Cahill after an especially ferocious snowstorm, checking the plantings in many of the Town’s beautification areas, or helping a stranded stranger by the side of the road changing a tire.
As the oldest of six children, he learned lessons of fairness and leadership early on. Moving from New London in the 1960’s, his mother Barbara O’Connor shared that his sense of injustice was piqued when he first went to school here: “Hampton is in trouble! There are no black people living in Hampton. What are we going to do to help?”
Childhood friend, Nat Woodward shared that he met Mike “around the 3rd grade. We were just a bunch of country bumpkins corralled into a room in the Hampton Consolidated School, with Mrs. Bingham trying to settle us down enough to be learning something. Mike seemed to be right there very close to the middle. Not the warrior, not the speech writer, just himself, always with qualities that simply made you feel at ease. Mike taught me something that he must have learned very early in life: You don’t need to stand out, you just need to stand up.”
Mike took the essence of being a good neighbor to heart. Having gone to local schools, and honing his skills at UCONN’s School of Agriculture, he opened his own greenhouse and landscaping business in 1983. Always willing to share his knowledge, he often gave away cuttings and roots of his famed patches of rhubarb and horseradish.
When it came to politics, partisanship was a non-issue. For over twenty years, Mike served on many board and commissions and was first elected Selectman from the Democratic Town Committee. When later approached by the GOP, he changed affiliations and ran and won as a Republican. For Mike, one worked as a Citizen of Hampton and in the Community’s best interest, not from a prescribed reactionary or radical dogma. Nat Woodward says, “Mike had only one agenda, that was to make anything he could a little better every day. Not through drama, just through smarts and hard work.” From Town Hall, Mike was a practical visionary, an astute listener, and a master of creative compromise. Meetings that began with a mood of volatility often ended with good will and better understanding, this due to Mike’s common sense and good humor.
Anne Christie recalls his longstanding championship and support of the library with his willingness to help whenever called upon. “His assistance in the improvements made to the library grounds five years ago was a very hands-on affair, working long hours in the cold and rain. He was there to transport books at numerous book/bake sales. The Fall Festival would not exist without his constant support, being there when needed, and smoothing of ruffled feathers. When the septic system was in need of repair, he was there with his miniexcavator. Those are just a few of the ways that Mike was there for us. There are so many.”
Penny Newbury, who knew Mike for twenty-five years, as a personal friend and friend to various Town endeavors. “I worked for him, hung out with him and his family, and regularly screeched at him over the phone or in person about some issue I had with the selectmen, or the Town’s position on this or that, or why he wasn’t doing something fast enough for my liking. Looking back, I think he rather enjoyed it. He’d do his best to calm me down, tell me something soothing (which would make me screech louder) and then the next time I saw him we’d be off on another topic. He knew everyone and everything about what went on in town, and sometimes I’d get a little cross, thinking that this couldn’t possibly be true. He was esoteric and spiritual and irreverent, all at the same time. He taught me how to shoot a semi-automatic rifle. He gave me trees for my birthday. He kept tarot cards under the counter at the greenhouse.”
Bob Grindle, Selectman and neighbor, recalls a routine occurrence: Mike’s green GMC slowing down as it neared his drive: “We looked at each other…we knew…the truck turned up the drive…Mike Chapel had something on his mind. Everyone who knew Mike knew he always had something on his mind.” Bob’s son, Kevin, suggested that “Mike had the ability to always add something to the conversation regardless of how far out of his wheelhouse you’d assume it to be, from philosophy to shot guns—from used excavators to real estate investments in New York and Vermont—from wooden boat building plans to urban planning methodology. He always had a unique perspective and, quite often, a thought provoking proposition.”
“You also knew a conversation with Mike Chapel would never be boring, “Bob says. Kevin’s wife, Amy Martyniak relates that during a visit, Mike surprised her when he noticed a butterfly flying in their garden and paused in his thought and started talking to her about the flight patterns of butterflies and how they’ve evolved that way to avoid predators!
Family oriented, Mike was proud to share the exploits and accomplishments of his sons, Zack and Nick, with partner Lynn Burdick. As they became adults, he said their view on growing up here often informed his thoughts and decisions personally and as a selectman.
Deeply spiritual, Mike could converse on many faiths. In the last few years, it was his devotion to bringing the Believers Mennonite Community here that led them to relocate to Hampton. Pastor Jonas Lapp observed that Mike’s prayerful commitment to their families integrating here was beyond their expectations. Mike truly believed that the Mennonite culture could only enhance and strengthen the rural life of our Town. That forward-thinking has become a reality, with the Community, school, and church growing.
Bob Grindle continues: “The most appealing part of Mike Chapel’s presence was his completely comfortable lack of pretense. He was easy to be around. Conversations in the yard, in the truck, on the porch, by the wall, at the table…we will all miss those. What he always brought with him, because it was a part of who he was, was an honest affection for his…our town, and his place in it.”
The green GMC is parked now. It is with an almost inexpressible sadness that we drive past it almost every day—parked next to the old Chapel home—as if waiting for its next journey. We will all miss Mike. This will take some getting used to.
Penny shares: “When I think of him these days, I think of a passage from Raymond Carver:
“And did you get what you wanted in this life, even so?”
“I did.”
“And what did you want?”
“To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.”
Mary Oliver