Celinda Jane McCoy Bankhead

Celinda Jane McCoy Bankhead, age 74, died on August 28, 2018 in Chestertown, MD. Cindy was the daughter of John O. and Mary Pauline Stanton McCoy. She is survived by William B. Bankhead II, her husband of 55 years; her children, Mary Eugenia Bankhead of Chestertown, Tallulah B. Lloyd of RI, and William B. Bankhead, III of Worton, MD; her son-in-law, Philip Lloyd; and daughter-in-law, Elizabeth Bankhead. Cindy was a proud and loving grandmother to William B Bankhead IV and Remi B. Lloyd whose lives have been uncommonly blessed for having known her. Cindy is preceded in death by her parents; her brother, Owen McCoy; an infant son, Henry; her beloved aunt, Nancy; her cousin, Sissy; and a motley crew of uncles whose influence can be felt joyfully reverberating through generations. Hopefully, they are planning a welcome party. Cindy grew up at Burn Brae Hospital, the family home in Primos, PA. She was surrounded by a cast of characters, including parents, a brother, cousins, uncles, aunts, and hospital patients (who seemed more like distant family members from her familiar and vivid accounts). These characters would go on to fuel a lifetime of story telling, stories that left listeners delighted or aghast… and often left her brother to exclaim, in a hearty booming voice, “THAT’S NOT HOW IT HAPPENED.” Cindy’s mother could be described as hard as nails in comparison to her soft sided sister, Aunt Nancy. She marched through a life of necessity and completed any task that needed doing with unadorned efficiency. Taring the roof, repairing a leaky toilet, feeding the chickens….plucking the chickens. Knowing their mother handed over a bucket of black paint to her two very young children, Cindy and Owen, and said “Have at it,” you can understand how these two people grew up to be the creative, unique individuals they were — unfettered by all the norms, standards, limits, and structure in which we common folk become sadly encumbered. Not only did their mother allow it, but she left the blackened window panes (perhaps that room had been too bright anyway) and permanent, inky black foot and handprints to festoon the woodwork, as reminder for all and forever, of their adventure, their glee, possibly their guilt - until Burn Brae was no longer. A lesson in consequence, perhaps? It became more of a daily reminder of lives fully lived. When Cindy was allowed to play in a pool of tar, to then endure it’s rather uncomfortable removal — she learned a valuable lesson in freedom of choice and consequences, and that tar stinks. Yes, Cindy spent a youth full of unusual freedoms. - Going to a school where you could actually bring your horse, race through fields and jump hedges to chase skunks with dubious success since— they caught one! Then, instead of tomato juice, bathing in Aunt Mary’s perfume — the name of which, Cindy could still recall. - As a preteen, intentionally pulling off her braces with Sugar Daddy’s so she could get a day off from school — as she took the train (alone) in to Philadelphia to get them repaired. School v Dentist — Well, we all have our priorities. - Summers surrounded by another motley crew, this one of cousins both older and younger than Cindy. Cindy tells of rotten tomato fights, with kids hurling mushy fruit at each other. Now, Cindy and Owen’s mother could have said something about the waste of food. Then again, those tomatoes really had seen better days, unlike the threadbare towels. She let the play go on, maybe because she was busy getting a wold of jobs done, but just maybe because she saw the value of growing up free from ultimately unnecessary constraints. Unbreakable bonds formed in those young years, bonds that exist today. As the scale of her life diminished only in the last few years, Cindy cherished the “Cousin’s Lunches,” half for the fun and family, half for the food! The often retold stories blend together — leaving some unclear as to which generation created those memories at Burn Brae. Sending a wheelchair bound Cindy (in hip high leg casts) careening down the steep driveway, not with a scream but with, shrieks of delight. Was it safe? NO. Was it fun? YES. Many years later, Owen watched his young niece crash her big wheel on that same steep driveway. There are blurry visions of Owen, running to the rescue, not over worried, not mad, upset or freaking out. He had had a lifetime of good training in taking everything in a cool stride. When you can be blasé about Uncles shooting each other with BB guns, (Didn’t I hear someone lost a tooth that way?) ehh , watching your little niece in a little high speed tumble off a red plastic big wheel is no biggie. Happenstance or well planned - a childhood of freedoms and family created this unique group of spirited relatives — fueling the story bank for a lifetime of Cindy’s retelling — her rendition at least, because some may boom “That’s not how it happened.” After graduating from the Gunston School in Centreville, MD, Cindy started nursing school at Lasell, then promptly decided to marry Billy Bankhead. While they raised their family on a farm in Kent County, Cindy kept a menagerie of farm animals, dogs, cats, and kids. At one point, when the children were young, Cindy went to an auction to buy a saddle but came home with three sheep instead. This went on to form the foundation of an award winning sheep and wool business at Springfield Farms in Rock Hall, MD. Only after their youngest child graduated from college did Cindy finally earn her RN degree from nursing school, more than 30 years after she began that particularly circuitous journey. Cindy’s life validates the saying, “Life’s what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” Cindy crossed her final finish line, having completed her personal marathon by sheer force of will. She may have dashed or danced or ambled. She may have been singing an offbeat song on beat, reciting poetry committed to memory long ago or devising a witty retort to life. Most likely she was chattering away, keeping the moment light and silly, her way of putting people at ease in trying times. To all of the family and friends who knew Cindy, her kindness, her straightforward, unfiltered manner, her tenacious spirit, her unwavering will to live, her quirky humor, her love of music, poetry and people, her telling (and retelling)(and embellishing) old stories, please know how very blessed she felt to have known and loved you all. A service will be held at St. Paul's Church on September 29, at 11am, with a reception to follow.