From an address by Cristie "Tuck" Herbst given in July 2017 at the celebration of 50 years of residence camping at Timbercrest:
Most of you never met Judith Andrews. But you carry in your hearts and minds the music and the words Judy wrote - music and words that help us give voice to how important this beautiful place has been in our lives.
Her camp name was Scottie. I want to tell you about her so that when you sing her song, her music, you will think of the Judy Andrews that we who called her our friend know her to be.
I know we idealize people after they are gone. I really did not want to do that today and so I reached out to Dusty, Sue LoPresti Wilcox, to help me decide what you need to know. Sue and I agreed Scottie had the unique ability to genuinely be in the moment when she was with you. To be be fully present, she needed to be - and was - open, good-natured, loving, generous, and accepting. She was easy, fun and comfortable to be with. Scottie met people where they were. She embraced the individuality of whomever she was with. Scottie had a great sense of humor and she laughed easily. She loved being out in nature, especially with her dog, Shannon.
As you can guess, she was incredibly talented as a musician, a poet and a great story teller. When you met her, one of the first things you might notice was her distinctive speaking voice. Hers was a voice with character. Not gravely, exactly, but textured like corduroy. Yet she sang in a smooth, rich mezzo-soprano that would stop you in your tracks. It was a measure of Scottie’s generosity that, when singing around the campfire with everyone, she used her beautiful, strong voice to be the foundation upon which the rest of us could build an amazing choir. You didn’t hear her voice above everyone else. Rather, it was there in the background, firmly holding up the rest of us.
Scottie worked on waterfront here at Timbercrest, which meant in those days living in a tent over there by the waterfront, eating meals in the lodge, and having no overnight responsibilities for the campers.
There was the summer that Scottie asked to live in a unit, to spend her evenings and overnight there although she worked on waterfront. So she lived across the lake in a teepee with Dusty, with Sue LoPresti Wilcox, in the pioneer unit, eating her meals outdoors with them, spending her evenings there, sharing her good humor and voice around the campfire.
Judy also was a sister, daughter, beloved aunt, treasured friend.
And she was 42 years old when she died 30 years ago this year.
Thirty years. Doesn’t seem possible - any more than it seems possible our first summer here was 50 years ago.
I’m closing with a poem Judy wrote. It was the first entry in the homemade book she gave me for Christmas one year, the book that includes her words to the Timbercrest song.
Take my hand, my friend Walk a ways with me. I’ll take you where the grass grows green And fingers of fog lick up from the sea.
You give me hope, my friend. Life is not an empty space. There’s reason for it all if we can only find the key, And each one helps another to seek his own place.