Thomas Page Barrett died on Dec. 8, 2023. He was 86 years old.

On that day our world, more precisely our Island, even more precisely Chappaquiddick, and most importantly, our family, his friends, co-workers and the Vineyard artisan community, bade goodbye to a gentle, kind, charming soul with a quiet, devilish sense of humor who loved the warm sun and sea, a good song, and “bad” jokes (aka puns).

He lived a colorful and complex life not unlike an epic novel with ups and downs. Among other traits, he was an artist known for his exquisite hand-sewn leather and sheepskin goods; a fly-by-the-seat-of-one’s-pants sailor who, though he had sailed in our waters for decades, still ran aground on occasion; an adventurer who took risks a more calculating individual would never have taken, and someone who taught the love of his life that falling head over heels in love in your later years was quite possible.

He lived his earliest years in Chappaqua, N.Y., where he graduated from Horace Greeley High School with honors. He was also a “four letter man” in sports. He was admitted to many prestigious universities, including West Point, but much to the displeasure of his parents, on graduation day he put a backpack on his back and headed west.

His hippie days had begun. In no particular order he was a roustabout in the oil fields, a mountain man in Breckenridge, Colo. living at the entrance to a mining shaft in a cabin that he made by hand; a creator of fine hand-sewn leather goods which he sold in local shops when he wasn’t on ski patrol.

Though these middle years may have seemed adventurous to some they were full of struggles and challenges. In time he returned home, joined the Army and became a soldier who had the good fortune to ski in the Alps for the Army‘s 10th Mountain Division. When he completed his service duty he returned to the United States and attended Syracuse University, thanks to the GI Bill, and graduated with a degree in landscape architecture. He worked in this field for a number of years, before returning to the West on another vagabond adventure.

He built his second log cabin in the mountains above Breckenridge, and eventually went on to California in “Mr. Sanders”, his pickup truck upon which he had built a beautiful Gypsy cabin. He sold ski gear and sailing yachts, transported a sailboat to Guyana (terrible trip), traveled the Eastern seaboard selling his beautiful leather bags, hats and sheepskin coats (one of which was featured in magazine ads for the Marlboro Man!), and traveled in Europe.

Eventually he returned to Upstate N.Y. where he bought his sloop, Rachel. He sailed her down the Erie Canal and up the coast to Martha’s Vineyard, which he called home for the remainder of his life. When not living on Rachel he lived in the family summer cottage on Chappaquiddick that his dad built and which had been Tom’s summer haven for most of his life.

In his last years, he was finally able to return year-round to that little island. He met Annie Floyd and taught this love of his life that falling head over heels in love in your later years was quite possible. He and Ann, along with family members Patricia and Mark, built a house on Ann’s land, Tom’s Neck Farm, and this is where he lived until his declining health required a move to Windermere.

His happiest days on the Vineyard were spent sailing, working at Morning Glory Farm which had become like an extension of his family, writing, creating his amazing sought after leather goods and the subsequent time spent selling them at the Island’s Artisan’s Fairs, walking the beach on Cape Pogue, and being with his Annie, his kitty cat, Trouble, and his wonderful family and friends.

His journals that span 50 years catalog a life filled with personal challenges, many amazing tales and beautiful poetry. His ultimate goal, related in a poem he wrote, was to:

Walk thru snow and leave no break

To walk in sand and leave no trace

To walk in water and leave no wake

To leave this world a softer place

Many times, he said, when life became too difficult to live, he would board his sloop, Rachel, and head east. So, we — his love Annie Floyd, his son David, his daughters Laurie, Kristin and Linda and myriad very special grandchildren and great-grandchildren, wish him Bon Voyage.

Fair winds and following seas

May forever you feel, upon your cheek, the salty breeze.

Your spirit lives on in many a heart….

Author unknown