For most of her life, Frances Chartuk was a homebody—steady, grounded, the kind of mother who kept the household running and the family stitched together with quiet strength. The Center Moriches resident read voraciously, always fascinated by history, culture, and places she never thought she’d see. But in her 80s, something changed. Maybe it was the spark of a new romance, maybe just a shift in the wind—but Fran hit the road.
At 85, with her new boyfriend at the wheel, she began checking off her bucket list of places she’d only dreamed of visiting. She stood at the edge of Boston Harbor and threw tea into the water. She spent the night in the famously haunted home of Lizzie Borden, a place as chilling as the rhyme etched in American folklore.
Her journey continued through the heart of American history and culture—Gettysburg’s solemn fields, the elegant halls of the Newport Mansions, and the winding paths of Dupont’s Winterthur and Longwood Gardens. She marveled at the architectural beauty of Fallingwater, the Frank Lloyd Wright estate in Pennsylvania, and checked out the Baseball Hall of Fame.
But Fran didn’t stop there.
She laughed at Dollywood, soaked in the music of Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry and the Country Music Hall of Fame, and paid homage to Elvis at Graceland. She visited Appomattox Court House, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and wandered through the Titanic Museum and Al Capone’s cell at the Alcatraz East Crime Museum. From Hershey’s sweet-smelling butterfly atrium to the Fishing Hall of Fame and the quirky D’Elia Antique Tool Museum in Connecticut, she explored it all—history, gardens, architecture, music, and mystery.
And along the way, she stopped to visit family—her daughter in Delaware and son in Virginia—never forgetting where she came from even as she embraced where she was going.
This Mother’s Day, we honor Fran—not just as a loving mom, but as a woman who, well into her 80s, reminded us it’s never too late to chase curiosity, explore the world, and live with wonder. Here’s to Fran—who proved the road doesn’t end when you grow old; sometimes, it just begins.