This page was created immediately following the service, so it may take some time to gather up the notes. We will have a remembrances page for contributions by others. 

Capt. Robert Hunt:

Dear Friends:

We are come together again, in celebration of, in memory of, a life the has influenced all of us.  Indeed,  in celebration of a life that has become and will remain a part of us, and a part of our children's lives.

Charles Robbins Dodds, Captain Dodds, Charles, Charlie, Uncle Charlie.  By every name, he was our special friend.

Charlie was a husband, a father, a gentleman, a Naval officer, a farmer (not a "gentleman farmer" as that term is used, but a farmer who was always a gentleman) and always a fixed reference point in our lives. 

Charles was born on October 3, 1913.  He graduated from the United States Naval Academy in the Class of 1937.  Missy Weems and Charlie were married here, in Annapolis, on December 26, 1939.  Captain Dodds served as a Naval Aviator in the Atlantic and Pacific and in the Philippines during World War II, in the Persian Gulf in the 50's and in technical and training assignments in the States.  They lived in Pensacola, Coronado, Norfolk (twice), Wickford, Rhode Island (twice), Memphis, Jacksonville and, of course, Annapolis.  Captain Dodds retired from the Navy in 1957.  The family returned to Annapolis and settled in at Pleasant Plains Farm.  That is when "The Farm" became a part of our lives. 

Once upon a time, we were all young and married, together.  Our children grew up with Missy and Charlie's children.  Our lives and the lives of our children are intertwined with theirs.  We all know and love their three children, Thackray, Philip and Nathaniel  and we share their sorrow. 

We are grateful for the memories; with Charles at the heart of them all.  We enjoyed the good times, we shared in  the famous get-togethers, the music and the singing, we joined in the reunions after separations. 

However, as with friends of such strong individuality, there were some hard times, too.

After Missy died and Charles slipped into Altzheimer's, we still tried to hold onto memories for him.   But, Charles became disoriented and, partly, so did we.

Today, though, we are together again as friends, each with strong bonds to Charles, to Missy, to Thackray and Jean Francois, to Philip and Sue and to Nathaniel and to each other, to renew, to strengthen and to maintain the bonds between us, we who have shared so much of our lives with Charles and with each other.

Thackray Dodds Seznec, Cory Seznec, Yann Seznec 

As we all know so well, my father expressed himself in poetry and music. We have delighted in his recitations and enjoyed joining him in song – some romantic, some very silly, some profound.  Now, as we recall these poems and songs, we feel a strong connection to him.  This sonnet by Shakespeare was a particular favorite of his.  We will continue to recite it - along with all the other old favorites - in loving memory of him.

    When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

    I all along beweep my outcast state,

    And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

    And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

    Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

    Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,

    Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,

    With what I most enjoy contented least;

    Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

    Haply I think on thee, - and then my state

    (Like to the lark at break of day arising

    From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;

    For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings,

    That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.

Philip Dodds

Words For Father

July 17, 2002  - Philip V. W.  Dodds

Today we have come together to say farewell to my father.  Our family is grateful for your support and help in fulfilling this important duty.  You are all here because of who he was.   He touched each of us in different ways.

This was a sweet man.  A gentleman.  Funny, and always entertaining.  A devoted husband. A complex man with strong ideas of loyalty and duty.  He always endeavored to do the “right thing” so far as he could determine that to be.  This was not always easy or  clear for him.  Throughout his life he was put in many situations not of his choosing, yet he rose to make the best of each case.  He had regrets he never voiced, but voiced no complaints.

He has left us all with his gift of music.  Each of you has a favorite.  It’s probably running through your head right now.  He’s left that with us, along with memories of good times, and he’s taught us – and is still teaching us – to carry his music forward.

Father was the sort of man boys and young men want be with.  I know I did.  He projected confidence in your abilities, let you stretch just beyond your capabilities, and then when you made a mistake, he simply said: “I’ll bet you won’t do that again”, and then would smile.  There are many who have been influenced, some profoundly, by  my father.  I hear from them all the time.

We each have our own “snapshots” of his delightful eccentricities to remember like: slab bacon burned to a crisp each morning always proffered with coffee; his constant sorting and filing – I still find parts in the basement in drawers he carefully organized – looking up odd words (most of you have been cured now of saying “dock” when you really mean pier or wharf), canning, index cards of notes, the old woodstove in the shop with thick, bitter coffee.  The three of us will never forget “rat droppings” in our morning oatmeal.  All of these scenes are now part of us and will keep him with us forever.

Father was a strong man.  Sometimes stronger than we would have wished for him.  Don Cunningham, I think it was, once told me: “I’ve only seen your father cry twice.  Once when the barn burned, and when you and Sue were married.”  (I’m glad the second time was for a good reason!) I used to think in past years that it never seemed to get to be “his turn”, and regretted that for him.  They never were out of debt, and there was always some urgent challenge: something broken, roof leaking, taxes due, problem at the well, or a sick animal. 

Over the past 16 years, however, I’ve come to the opinion that father was intrinsically a contented man who had worked out the rhythm of life to a point of equilibrium that served him well. In his declining years, and as he lost his orientation and immediate awareness, he retained all of his best qualities. 

Several weeks ago when I visited him and tucked him in, he was not in all that great shape.  He was confused, dazed, and disoriented.  I asked him what I might get for him.  He responded, “Well, chiefly, I would like to know what I can do to contribute to the program.  What can I do to be helpful?” 

To quote from a favorite British pub song he often sang: “Father in his life was never a quitter, I don’t suppose he’ll be a quitter now.”

Pleasant Plains Farm Restoration