By Candy Chin, co-owner of the Tremperskill Country Store
When we first met Lincoln Abrams at the country store, I treated him with deferential respect, as I thought he was Willis Tremper, until we got that straightened out! “I’m pretty old, but not that old!” he laughed.
Link was in his eighties then, and remarkably hale and hearty. He told us lots about when he and his wife Ginny ran the store. Filled to the gills with everything, stock hanging off of ropes and strings… “we made a good living.” Toby Titch, then a teenager skinning a squirrel nearby, worked here with Lincoln. “We worked hard!”
In the next three years, he’d drive his white Continental to the store with his shopping list. He’d have his president-emeritus donut and coffee (which I’d promised when I thought he was Willis Tremper.) Three years ago, he told of his first fall-down while visiting Ginny’s grave. With no one around, he had to crawl to lift himself up. His legs had begun a process, which irked him. His mind was clear and witty. He laughed a lot. The legs were never right after a stroke. He kept driving here, but my husband, Eddie, or anyone around, would pump gas for him.
Two summers ago, Eddie started delivering his shopping-list up to Shaver Hollow along with a quick visit: cold cuts, Fig Newtons, Little Debbie pies (and the W.T. donut). I’d pack in old and new Andes Gazettes – “something to read”.
He died as he reached his ninety-fourth birthday. I’ll recall my memories of Link: intelligence, smiles, laughs, stories, disgust at the strong mind and weakening legs, first one leg, then both. I love sharing his store, where people still sit at the coke machine, same as in the seventies—and the man who kept his strength and sparkle till not too long ago.
Last spring he told me he was “proud to be almost the oldest man in Andes.” And I think he was looking forward to seeing his wife.~