Last Mile 2024 honors Charlie McMeekin (December 12, 1951 – March 3, 2024)
By Maryellen Apelquist
RANDOLPH, Vt.—Three states west of us, in Ohio, on a spring day nearly 55 years ago, a young Charlie McMeekin made his way through his college dining hall with an invitation to share with classmates. Some may not have been interested in what he had to say. Others may have pretended to be interested. Still others, like a young Becky Beilfuss, politely listened before declining. “No, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t think I’ll come.”
The rejection seemingly did not deter Charlie. He went ahead with his plans: a service at a local church, in memory of students killed at nearby Kent State.
Some who said they’d attend the gathering did not, but there were a few surprises. Becky was there, with her roommate, sitting toward the back of the sanctuary. A few years later she’d marry the young McMeekin, whom she now recalls thinking was “interesting and slightly odd,” and in 1973 the newlyweds would make their way to Vermont.
“From the very beginning, it was clear he was interested in things bigger than he was,” says Becky today, during our conversation over lunch at Wee Bird in Randolph. “And wanted to make a difference, and connect people.”
Charlie McMeekin stood for something. A lot of somethings. Standing up, showing up, speaking up—he was as much known for these actions and whatever mission brought him there as he was for his passion for musical theater, dedication as a beloved English teacher, and questionable taste in neckties and mismatched outfits.
In writing this story, after conducting interviews and reading dozens (hundreds?) of testimonials from family and friends—Charlie’s friends are great in number—one thing becomes crystalline: Charlie loved hard, and he loved with acts of service.
And in return he was loved, widely and deeply.
He is loved.
Charlie’s legacy of love lives on in places like the stage at Chandler Center for the Arts; in donations to the Randolph Area Food Shelf; beneath the music tents at New World Festival; in the hum of dryers at the Randolph Village Laundromat; in the voices of the choir at Bethany Church and among the Randolph Singers, Sounding Joy! and Ken’s Barbershop Quartet; in the hearts and minds of alumni of Randolph Union High School and The Sharon Academy; and in The Loft, an apartment for unhoused people that Charlie made sure became a reality when he saw the need.
We lost Charlie on March 3. His celebration of life, a few months later, in June at Chandler, drew hundreds of former students, colleagues, fellow singers and parishioners, co-volunteers, family, decades-long friends who’d become family, neighbors, and a few who may not have known Charlie personally but admired him from a distance.
Words about Charlie filled a slide deck projected on a screen in the grand music hall, words sent to Becky in advance of the service. Memories of loving acts and deeds, support and encouragement filled the space above the stage, the same stage where Charlie spent innumerable hours across 16 summers, directing and mentoring kids in Chandler’s Charlie-created annual Summer Youth Musical. There he helped scores of local young people think about things in different ways, think about themselves differently.
By all accounts, Charlie saw people for who they are. Accepted them for who they are. Encouraged them to follow their hearts, pursue their dreams, do the thing they might not otherwise have the confidence to do.
“I was a freshly minted and exceedingly inexperienced teacher when I met Charlie McMeekin in January of 1996 at Randolph Union High School,” says Brian Rainville, whom Charlie would one day encourage to take the reins of the theater program at RUHS, another program Charlie established and made thrive. “I was barely 22, and for the first few days of school one of the lunch ladies tried to keep me from paying the adult price for my meal!”
Charlie also encouraged Rainville to study his passion for theater in New York, by visiting Broadway and bringing RUHS students along for the adventure.
“That was Charlie—he saw in others what they didn’t yet know they possessed—and I witnessed scores of young people take flight thanks to his support and encouragement,” says Rainville, who to date has led 17 trips to the Big Apple where he’s introduced more than 1,000 RUHS students to professional theater on Broadway. “They were actors, directors, designers, technicians, and festival organizers. Charlie changed lives.”
“Charlie encouraged me to think—and go big. … He had tremendous faith in the power and ability of young people to excel when presented with meaningful, complex challenges.”
It was Charlie’s acceptance of people that made him the mentor he was.
“I think that’s why he’s such a good teacher,” says Becky. “He loved all those young people. It wasn’t just the ones who excelled in a school setting.”
Refreshingly, public Charlie and private Charlie were the same man.
“At-home Dad Charlie was public Charlie,” says son Dave McMeekin. “One of the few people that really just had one personality. Sure, maybe slightly more animated—read: louder—in front of a classroom or on stage, but still the same Charlie.”
Michael Penrod, a decades-long friend who also volunteered with Charlie at the laundromat—collecting coins, sweeping, and fixing what needed fixed—likewise found Charlie remarkably genuine and a great cheerleader.
“He was who you saw,” says Penrod. “You got what you get. Charlie was one of the few friends that I’ve had in my lifetime. He made me feel so good. He always, when you met him, he always made you feel like you were special.”
Kristin Chandler knew Charlie through his various roles in the community, first as a director to her children in performances at Chandler, where she was impressed that Charlie managed not only to teach his mentees the ins and outs of theater but also wove in a social component—talking to the kids about things like domestic violence and other issues that underscored various musicals. Then they’d work together on New World Festival and later, The Loft.
“He saw a need and made it happen,” says Chandler of Charlie’s work to establish short-term emergency housing in Randolph.
Charlie’s volunteer relationships often evolved into deep friendships, which often led to a food opportunity. He and Becky shared meals with friends, as friends do, and food figures prominently in favorite memories shared. Chandler noted the “really good” popcorn he made at home—“he had some kind of secret popcorn recipe”—and Penrod shared his surprise and admiration watching Charlie sitting outside Wit & Grit, happily eating a pile of mashed potatoes on a summer afternoon.
It’s no wonder access to good food, for everyone, was on Charlie’s mind, leading him to serve on the board of the food shelf.
“Charlie had a great personality and was able to connect the work of the board directly to the pantry and the shoppers,” says Gifford VP of Operations Rebecca O’Berry, who also serves on the board. “He had an easy, welcoming manner that helped people walk in our front door the first time, which can be a very hard thing to do.”
That nonjudgmental manner was Charlie’s true nature.
“I think it came from his heart, as if he was born with it,” says son Dave. “It seemed to come so easily to him and as if there was really no other way to treat a human being.”
The Garners, longtime friends, first met the McMeekins at Bethany Church back in 1998.
“We were instant friends,” says Randy Garner. “We have spent countless hours together, with many trips, card games, picnics, birthdays and holiday celebrations.”
“In a letter I sent him as he neared the end, I told him that I would not need any special events or places to spark memories of him. I could never forget him. Places and events won’t remind me of him, because he was such a strong presence, that even gone, he will still be a part of them. I will see him whenever I visit Chandler, or go by the food shelf, or see a struggling family enter Charlie’s Loft. To me, he brought those places to life, and changed many lives for the better, along the way.”
Rest in peace, Charlie. Thank you for seeing us, going big, and helping us be our best selves.
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Join Gifford Aug. 10, 16 and 17 for the 19th annual Last Mile fundraising events to support end-of-life care for patients and their families. The fun starts Saturday, Aug. 10, with a bicycle ride and continues with a 5K run and 1- and 2-mile walks on Friday, Aug. 16, and a motorcycle ride through central Vermont, the signature event that started it all, on Saturday, Aug. 17.
Last year, 676 Last Mile participants and 52 business sponsors raised $198,000 to support end-of-life care for central Vermonters, bringing the grand total to more than $1,576,000 since the inaugural Last Mile in 2006. Funds raised help ease the end-of-life experience, support grieving families, and honor loved ones.
Register and learn more at giffordhealthcare.org/lastmile.
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Remembering Charlie
Charlie was one of our children’s teachers at RUHS, and it was easy to see that he was someone they would never forget. He had a way of treating middle schoolers as adults, with high expectations that made kids want to do their best. He was laser focused on the kids with troubled family lives and became a stabilizing presence that I’m sure saved many of them from difficult futures.
Charlie was so much more than just an educator, mentor and role model. Besides the long hours associated with teaching, after school drama rehearsals, and the usual pile of homework to grade once he got home, he always found time for his community that he loved so deeply. If Charlie was involved, you could be sure it in some way was helping the folks who often go unnoticed in our society. He was never afraid to challenge even his best of friends when something controversial would come up. But even then, he did so with respect and an open mind that carefully considered your side of the discussion. I had the great privilege of working beside him emceeing many of Chandler’s Mud Season Variety shows.
When our kids were involved in the Chandler summer musicals that he directed, I loved to stop by rehearsals on my way home from work and watch him do his magic. Watching him, I learned to appreciate theatre in an entirely different way. So often all of the attention is focused on the lead characters. During rehearsal group meetings, he always made sure to draw attention to even the simplest of characters, no matter how young, for things like always smiling, or staying in character. So now when I watch plays, even adult age casts, I pay more attention to the lesser known characters and am always overwhelmed by how much they give without any hope of fame or significant recognition. This alone has brought for me a whole new depth of feeling for theatre. –Randy Garner
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We were first aware of Charlie through theater. His work with high school students was legendary. We never were able to watch him in action as he guided and encouraged his young thespians, but it was obvious in the results that his care for them was paramount, and that his directorial ego lay well below the surface.
A favorite memory: Dorothy and I had written our third musical, The Singing Master, and we asked Charlie and Becky to be a part of its premiere production. I loved standing next to him as we sang a song about building Rochester’s first church in 1810:
Together we will raise His House
Together we shall labor.
Help me, neighbor; help me, neighbor
Raise His House, His Holy House.
Somehow I felt Charlie pulling me through those passages that were reflecting his spirit, the spirit of a man whose calling was to raise up those around him. -Dick Robson
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Charlie’s second performance with The White River Valley Players and sadly, his final one, was last December 23 when he personified a mighty oak tree in the Players’ seasonal show, “The Night Before the Night Before Christmas.” It was an easy decision to cast Charlie as the strong oak tree, the one who protected and inspired the other trees in the forest. He was that strong entity for many of us, from the little boy whom he patiently taught to tie his shoes, to other fellow theater directors who learned from his example. And always hovering above Charlie’s skills as a teacher, leader, and director was his love of people. Charlie was first and foremost a humanitarian and we loved him right back. -Dorothy Robson
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One of my favorite memories of Charlie was driving over Mendon Mountain—very early in the morning or quite late at night, often in freezing rain, in a U-Haul truck with bald tires. We [drove the Rutland area] frequently as drama festival sites. Sharon Borchardt was on board a school bus filled with cast and crew, and Charlie and I were frequently the advance party, in the moving truck. He was behind the wheel, and as exhausted as that man had to be, he wanted to know what I was thinking, how I was doing, and what I was seeing on stage. –Brian Rainville
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My Dad was absurdly approachable, humble, interested and genuine. I think people just felt comfortable around him and always felt heard. …
Obviously, to me, he was first and foremost my Dad. It wasn’t until much later that I realized how integral to the community he was. In our church, school, a singing group and just overall as a mentor. And then as we grew older and took up less of his time he quickly filled it with Chandler, the laundromat, the Loft, the select board. He really never enjoyed Idle time and always had to be doing something. He always admired my ability to “just chill and hang out” which is such a ridiculous thing for a parent to tell their child. It sounds so backhanded as if trying to take a dig, but he really meant it. –Dave McMeekin
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You saw the spark in me that I so desperately wished to express, and you helped me uncover so many important lessons in life.
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Not a year has passed when I don’t look back and experience a wave of deep gratitude for the care and friendship you gave me, for showing me just how good people can be…and that I deserved to receive some of that goodness.
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You loved not only literature and theater, you loved kids and you respected them enough to get the best they had to give.
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Thank you for always encouraging me to be my brightest, most enthusiastic, joyful, and creative self. For seeing this in me when I could not.
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You paved the yellow brick road for so many of us to be happy, committed, fearless, and belonging to a community.
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You taught me the when, where, and how of happiness.
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There are people who enter our lives and make such an impression that they stay there for decades.
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Someone very dear to me once told me that the very best way to be happy is, of course, to make others happy. I can think of no better example of such a principle than that which you have set for our community.
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I remember more than anything your deeply serious way of giving, always and to anyone, that made it so obvious it was the only right way to live.
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You made me a better human.
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Your love is world-changing. It has changed mine.
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There you were, this wonderful, intelligent, quirky, creative person who laughed at himself, the world, and all that should be laughed at.
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I remember baccalaureate night, you gave me a letter that said you believed in me and felt I would succeed in life, when I didn’t even know. I have always remembered your encouragement, and I did succeed.
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If the fate of humanity depends upon building caring communities, we need more Charlie McMeekins.
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Daily, ceaselessly, decade upon decade, without thought of recompense or acknowledgement, trees quietly contribute to our world. I think Charlie is a closeted tree.
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The world is a better place because of Charlie McMeekin. It is truly amazing how many people’s lives are better because of Charlie McMeekin.
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Thank you for being so very Charlie, so we had the opportunity to be so very ourselves.
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Kids don’t always end up with a set of adults at home who are able to see and celebrate them for who they are. What a gift that you gave me and, undoubtedly, hundreds of other young people in our community.
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You have been a housepainter and woodsman, but also always a keeper of the Word; someone able to show us all how literature fits life, and life literature — poetry as essential as a chainsaw, and vice versa.
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Everything you do seems to be done with an eye out for the unnoticed in society.
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Generosity, gratitude, kindness, forgiveness — you have all of these things in abundance.
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You taught us to be vocal in our appreciation of others. To be brave and bold and trust our instincts.
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What a blessing to stand beside you, harmonizing with you, learning from you, seeing in you perhaps what God had in mind from the beginning.
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