Joseph P. Manning

He taught us how to make block letters, very neatly.  While our mother (Anna Marie Manning) wrote in cursive like the nuns at St Pats,  he taught an alternative:  letters with the same width and height and, when we added numbers, to line them up perfectly in neat vertical columns.

He was an engineer, always thinking of how things can be made better. My sister Kathy (who helped Marcie care for him recently) told a story the other day. After he laid flat in the hospital bed for a few days, the nurse came in to check on him and he says “Well, there is one problem.  These ceiling tiles are not of equal size” and, before dozing back to sleep, went on to explain how he might design them to make the manufacturing process easier.

As a NH state rep for many years, he worked on real problems. He was never really a republican or democrat but worked to get the parties together, to find solutions. Among other things, he fought for the care of mentally ill.

But he was much more than an engineer, legislator, WWII vet, co-founder of Fitzgerald’s Hill (one of the finest ski resorts ever operated),  auctioneer, sailboat charter captain,   ski patroller, church lector,  fireman, b&b host, lighthouse historian, National Seashore Park Ranger, meals_on_wheelser… He was a father.

When we were very young, he brought us to the Highlands of North Truro. Camping among the scrub pines, we could hear the pounding surf. He instilled in us an appreciation for this natural beauty so that back home, standing high on the top of Mt Monadnock, we could  look far off on the horizon and imagine.

A Boston Irish couple, Patrick and Sarah Manning,  had their son Joseph Patrick in 1926 (after daughters Betty and Kate). After the war, Joe went on to marry Marie who gave birth to us: Joanne, Kathy, Jim, Regina, Mary, and Brigid.  Years after Marie’s passing in 2006, he married Marcie Connare at 85 years old. Joe was beloved by Marcie’s children, John, Beth, Joanne, Carol, and their families.

In recent decades, when he was not traveling with Marcie or out for lunch with some old farts, he didn’t just sit  blissfully overlooking the Contoocook. No. He was busy doing “projects”. When he fell and broke his hip at nearly 98 years old, he was trying to maneuver a wheelbarrow full of pine cones.

If we, his children, along with 12 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren, inherit at least some of his attitude, wisdom, logic, volunteerism, and stubbornness, the world will be an even better place. 

A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated on Saturday, April 6, 2024 at 11:00am at Saint Patrick Church, 89 Main Street, Jaffrey, NH 03452.  A celebration of his life will follow at Woodbound Inn, 247 Woodbound Road, Rindge, NH 03461. 

In lieu of flowers you may send a contribution to the National Alliance of the Mentally Ill (www.nami.org).