“When it was time for Uncle Noah to return to the river, Dad would drive. I remember his full pack basket and long walking stick and the galvanized pail he would carry.  He had to be athletic in order to face both physical and mental hardship. For Uncle Noah to make such a journey in the Adirondack wilds for over thirty years, through mountains and desolate, freezing landscapes, was considered foolhardy by some people, who discussed how he might never return.  True, his mission might have seemed to border on suicide, but time after time Noah had proven himself a strong woodsman.”

Steve Rock, who comes from a younger generation on a limb of the Rondeau-Rock family tree, wishes he knew more about his Uncle Noah. He and Jenny are examples of the current generation who treasure the memories of Uncle Noah. Said Steve: “The stories told to me were much the same as in De Sormo’s book [Noah John Rondeau, Adirondack Hermit].   The story of his not worshipping in our churches is true, for he did show up at my Grandfather [Herbert] Rock’s funeral in a bearskin robe but chose to stand outside the church door. As my Grandmother Delia exited the church, she stopped to talk with Noah. He offered his condolences, hugged her, then pressed a wad of bills into her hand. My dad said the roll included a hundred-dollar denomination. There possibly was more, as Dad said everything was rolled. That was a lot of money in 1958!! Quite amazing.

“Off and on throughout the 1950s and early ’60s I recall Uncle Clifton telling me that when Noah did visit Delia in Cadyville he always brought along a deer head. He always assumed it was stashed with something important. Money? He didn’t know. Uncle Clifton was a storyteller who in the telling made the truth, a lot of times, sound better [than it really was].

“Uncle Chester [Rock] might remember more stories [about Noah]. He helped care for my grandparents, being a nurse. He was frequently at their home when Noah visited. Noah stayed in one of the upstairs bedrooms during the later 1950s.”

Chester Rock was only four and a half years old in 1943 when Noah recorded the following entry in his journal.

Chester doesn’t have any memories of Noah on this day that Noah reunited with his baby sister, who was then 46. It’s all conjecture why he had not seen Delia since the last days of 1919.  They had grown up during hard times and experienced joyful times as well.  They must have had a lot to talk about.

Burton continues: Uncle Noah told the kind of stories that kept you awake long after the rest of the house had fallen asleep. He had a God-given knack for spinning a yarn, and his tales were nothing short of spectacular to me as a young boy. Noah was known for his little gems. At least we [the family] think he had a way with words when expressing common, everyday things. His writing is just one of the things I enjoy looking back on.”

Every time Chester would remember something else, I’d receive another e-mail with the subject line “Memory Crept In,” and would open it eagerly.  In one correspondence, Chester thought back to Noah’s Bible.  “One day I stopped to see Aunt Delia Rondeau, Uncle Bill’s wife, a few years after Uncle Noah died. She gave me a Bible that Uncle Noah kept. As I thumbed through the pages I noticed Noah had added something to all the pictures. He had covered many of the captions under the pictures by cutting pieces of the glue tab of envelopes and pasting them over the writing. On the tabs he added his own comments. Some were derogatory remarks next to the [original] text. In other cases, he jotted comments. Some of the writing you could make out and in other cases the ink was smeared.”

Chester was referring to the large Bible Rondeau had been given in “about 1925.” Noah marked this on the inside cover: 

“This Bible: I got in the twenties; and smoked it in Cold River Town Hall for over 20 years; And brought it to Saranac Lake, Nov. 14, 1948.”  

N.J. Rondeau”   

Recalling the his uncle’s secret code, said Chester, “All my brothers and sisters were just as curious about Uncle Noah’s secret writing as I was. There wasn’t ever much time to snoop in the journals, as if Mother caught us there would be trouble! I did think, however, that I would like to have been able to take my time thumbing through all the pages.”