My mother, Helen Gallo Bryan, of Charlestown, MA, passed away suddenly on Friday, August 9th, 2024 following complications from surgery. She was born on November 9th, 1959 at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, to Julie and Walter Gallo where my grandfather was serving in the United States Marine Corps.
She is survived by my grandmother, Julie, my father, Dave, my younger brother Oliver and myself, and her siblings Kara Fountain, Geoffrey Gallo, and Walter Gallo Jr.
She is predeceased by her beloved father Walter who passed away earlier this year.
My mom really knew how to live life. This is the sentiment most commonly expressed to me in the days after her passing, and it’s this thought which is the source of the greatest pain as I imagine the next decades without her.
I don’t know anyone who threw a better party, maintained more long distance friendships, or went so out of their way to do things big and small for others.
She was raised primarily in Bedford, New Hampshire, in those days a rural and scenic town where the family dogs could come and go freely and cows sometimes wandered into the yard.
The Gallo family home on Wallace road was a place where almost anyone might be welcomed in for a hot meal or a place to rest. This ethic of hospitality was one my mom carried on throughout her life, frequently hosting guests for dinner, and insisting on keeping a guest bedroom until I was 16, forcing me to share with my brother. (She still kicked me out anytime someone was in town).
As the oldest sibling she was the first of four to attend Saint Anselm College, where my grandfather worked nearly his entire career. There she studied biology, leading us to tease her for the rest of her life with the refrain “woman of science!” in response to this or that dubious claim.
While at St. A’s, she studied abroad in Strasbourg, France, and returned knowing that she wanted to pursue a career in the wine industry. After a brief but fondly remembered stint assistant teaching and bartending, my mom began what would become her career at the E&J Gallo Winery, proceeding to work for importers of fine wines, in particular the Winebow company, for the next 36 years.
She worked extremely hard. All the harder, I would only later come to appreciate, as a woman in a cutthroat, male-dominated field. As a child her work would often frustrate me. I didn’t like how long she would stay in the car to finish up a work call after arriving home late at night from a work trip, or how I always had to be careful going into her home office that she wasn’t busy. I remember being particularly upset one year when the eruption of an Icelandic volcano caused all flights out of Europe to be canceled, and for her to miss my 9th birthday.
Absence of work life balance aside, I’m sure that she would say it was all worth it, because her job was extremely cool. In the course of her career, she traveled multiple times to Spain, Portugal, France, Argentina, and Italy. She would often stay in ancient accommodations within the wineries themselves, and became close personal friends with many winemakers.
She nearly completed a master’s program in gastronomy at Boston University. Life, namely me, prevented her completing the degree. During this time she became personally acquainted with the great American chef Julia Child (she would’ve wanted that mentioned).
Over the course of her career, she developed an immense knowledge of food and wine, which was her passion. She was a great cook, having mastered the Italian-American classics inherited from her parents, as well as developing a varied repertoire of her own. Every bottle of wine opened was inevitably accompanied by minute detail about the vintage, variety of grape, cork, label, or even the winemaker, who more often than not was a friend of hers.
She met my father, Dave, at a Boston Sailing Center party in 1989, and they married at Odiorne Point in Rye, New Hampshire in 1995. My parents learned each other's passions to a point of loving proficiency, with my dad being reasonably likely to select a bottle of wine she would approve of, and my mom being mostly able to find her way around a sailboat. As it would turn out, wine and sailing pair nicely together, and my mom was fortunate to enjoy many sailing trips with my dad on Boston Harbor, in Maine, the British Virgin Islands, and a honeymoon sail around Corsica. She even worked with my dad at the Boston Sailing Center for a time (She would have wanted this mentioned as well).
Those who knew her can attest to the incredible energy she possessed. She absolutely poured herself into her family, her friendships, her work, and a plethora of other pursuits. Her little garden, which I’m sitting in as I write, is as full and beautiful as I’ve ever seen it. Every inch of usable space is filled by flowers, herbs, and the cherry tree she planted for me when I was born. We fear for its well being without her careful attention.
Most importantly, and hardest for me to capture, is the spirit she put into motherhood. Oliver and I, I think, can be counted as successes. My brother is entering his Junior year at Saint Anselm pursuing a degree in criminal justice, and works as a lifeguard at the Charlestown pool in the Summer. I graduated this past Spring from Suffolk University (she threw me one heck of a party) and now work for the City of Boston. Since I moved away in 2020, I’ve relied heavily on the bags of groceries I brought home with me after any visit. Oliver speaks of how close he became with our mom thanks to her constant support as he began school at her alma mater. She was an incredible mother, and I count among my greatest blessings having been raised in the family she and my dad built.
In addition to Oliver and I, she was also mother to our precious black lab, Islay, who she named after the Scottish Isle and its namesake Scotch whiskey. “Islie” was very much her dog.
I think Helen always wished she had a daughter, so while she loved us immensely, she also served as a mother figure to her god-daughters, nieces, and countless children of friends, and neighbors. Just like for us, she would take them shopping, send them little gifts and notes, and attend their sporting events and graduations.
I remember in high school in 2018 learning of her cancer diagnosis, which was followed by surgery and chemotherapy. This began her six year battle with stage three advanced ovarian cancer. It’s hard to overstate how bravely she fought her sickness, in spite of allergic reactions to different drugs, and prolonged bouts of neuropathy. She was an incredibly tough woman, and I fear how much she avoided sharing her hardship with my brother and I.
I chose not to finish my bachelor’s degree at Saint Anselm College (much to my mother and grandfather’s chagrin) where she was an active alumnus all her life (It’s okay, Oliver carries the torch). However, my experience there did launch my love of philosophy, and led me to pursue it as a major. During my freshman year Conversatio course, “What is the good life?” was offered as a central question, a starting place for figuring life out. It’s as vexing a question as any in philosophy, but I’d offer the beautiful, full life my mother Helen lived as an example for those who aren’t sure where to start.
As we mourn her, I know that nothing would make her happier than to see the great many of you whom she knew and loved share a home cooked meal around a candle lit table, write a postcard to an old relation, or enjoy a good bottle of wine.
In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the Ovarian Cancer Research Alliance, with which she was involved, or the Gallo Family Endowed Scholarship Fund at Saint Anselm College.
With eternal love and gratitude,
Daniel Bryan
Relatives and friends are also invited to attend Helen's visiting hours on Sunday afternoon, August 18, 2024, from 2 P.M. to 6 P.M. in The Carr Funeral Home, 220 Bunker Hill St. Charlestown, Mass. Relatives and friends are invited to attend Helen's Funeral Mass on Monday morning, August 19, 2024, at 10 A.M. at St. Anselm's College Abbey, 100 St. Anselm Drive, Goffstown, New Hampshire.
