Born in Fall River, she attended Sacred Heart Academy and was a faithful parishioner of Holy Rosary Church. Gale went on to receive a Bachelor of Arts degree from Bridgewater State College. Initially deterred from teaching by a misguided supervisor, she took a job as a social worker in Fall River, where she met Alan, her husband of 51 years. They went on to have two daughters, Nikki and Andrea. When her girls reached school age, Gale decided to apply for an auxiliary teaching position at Holy Name School; she spent those first five and a half years as a “Jill-of-all-trades,” teaching physical education, music, art, and doing what she loved the most—inspiring children to love the world of books. She would roam the halls going classroom to classroom with her book cart, spreading wonder. In 1987, her roving cart found a permanent home when she was hired on as the sixth grade teacher. This was the beginning of a storied career as “Mrs. P,” the tough but loving, critical for your own good, infectiously kind-hearted, and irreverently giggle-producing favorite teacher to her students for 25 years. Gale earned local and diocesan accolades as an educator, proving she was always meant to teach. Countless alumni have credited her with making them better writers, lovers of reading, and survivors of the toughest moments of their adolescence. Gale became an engaged parishioner of Holy Name Church and later Our Lady of Grace Church in Westport, where she and Alan moved in their retirement. Retirement allowed Gale the time to enjoy a new phase of life, as a doting grandmother. She was Nana to her grandson Tanner and Nonni to her grandson Wyatt, but she never minded their different self-selected titles for her.
She was also a dedicated caregiver to her parents Margaret (Burton) Storch and Frederick Storch, Sr. for many years. Gale delighted in service, cherishing her work with the Women’s Guild at OLOG Church. She was a die hard fan of Boston sports, and eventually expanded her love of the game to include everything from golf to speed bowling to competitive corn hole. The Bruins have an angel up above this season, so they need to bring home the Cup for Gale!
She leaves behind her beloved husband Alan Perkins of Westport, MA; daughter Nikki Gubata and son-in-law Mark of Warwick, RI; daughter Andrea Nerlich and son-in-law Carl of Huntington, NY; grandsons Tanner Wakeman and Wyatt Nerlich; brother Frederick Storch, Jr. of Middleboro, MA; sister-in-law Susan Perkins of Fall River; niece Haley Storch and nephew Jack Storch, and their mother Jodi Storch of Middleboro, MA. She is preceded in death by her parents Fred and Margaret Storch, and her nephew Dylan Storch. Her dog Rags will meet her on the rainbow bridge.
A funeral mass will be held Saturday, January 20, 2023 at 11:00 AM at Our Lady of Grace Church, 569 Sanford Road, Westport, MA. Relatives and friends are invited. Please omit flowers. Donations in Gale's name can be made to Our Lady of Grace Church in Westport, or consider honoring Mrs. P with a donation of books in her name to a local school, library, or youth program to inspire the love of reading in the next generation. Interment will be private.
Words of remembrance:
FOR MOM
Good morning. For those of you that don’t know me, I’m Gale’s younger daughter, Andrea. On behalf of my father Alan, sister Nikki, and all our family, we thank you for joining us. Everyone here today knew my mother personally or loves someone who did, so we thank you for sharing in a celebration of her life as she returns to her heavenly Father.
It may come as a surprise, but I’m going to be drawing much of what I say from an unlikely source—social media. This is interesting for a few reasons. First, I’m the only one in my current house or among the people from my house growing up with a social media presence. After announcing my mom’s passing and then sharing her obituary on Facebook, there’s been an outpouring of joy and memories to temper the sadness. I wanted to bring those into this space. Not surprisingly, my mother wasn’t on social media. Foremost, she wasn’t the most technologically savvy person, so computer communication would’ve been a leap. However, avoiding social media was probably an unconscious act of self-preservation, because I know she would have cringed at the rampant spelling and grammatical errors you see online. While you would have thought you were sending a heartfelt message to your valued friend or teacher, she would have been critiquing you in the comments.
So, here’s my attempt to convey what I’ve learned in my 47 years of experience with the incomparable Gale Perkins, while weaving in memories from the hearts of those who also knew and loved her. I’m not including names for most people I’m quoting, because I didn’t know how you’d feel in this moment, but know that, if you hear a familiar passage or paraphrase, it was something that touched me as illustrative of my mother’s wonderful legacy.
To start, I want to share something I came across, within the days of her passing, that got me thinking about how to commemorate her life. A friend had shared a post about Charles Schulz, who we know as the creator of the ‘Peanuts’ comic strip. Now, I didn’t fact check this as true, but, still, the story resonated. Charles had a philosophy about what made someone important. He would ask, “Can you name the five wealthiest people, the last five Heisman trophy winners, ten Nobel prize winners, or the last decade’s worth of World Series winners?” Most people can’t. His point? None of us remembers the headliners of yesterday, even when they’re the best in their field. Achievements are forgotten, awards tarnish, and accolades are buried with their owners. But here’s another quiz:
List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
*Name three friends who’ve helped you through a difficult time.
*Name five people who’ve taught you something worthwhile.
*Think of a few people who’ve made you feel appreciated and special.
*Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
That one’s probably easier. The lesson, he said, is the people who make a difference in your life aren’t the ones with the most credentials, most money, or the most awards. They’re simply the ones who care the most. I thought it was a poignant fable of sorts, but then it occurred to me: my mother was all five of those things to me, and I’ve come to learn, through the stories of others, that she ticked those boxes for so many she encountered.
Comments about my mother were like reading reviews of a favorite place or experience—Five stars, would definitely recommend! It was such an overwhelming reaction. She was described as:
*One in a million
*A wonderful, caring, and funny lady
*Legendary
*A great and beautiful soul
*Truly a gift to this world
*One of the best teachers and genuinely great humans I have ever met
*Full of charisma, character, and love
*A magnetic personality with loving ways! *All of us are better for having known her
*A true asset to the Holy Name community
I had mentioned to my sister that I wished mom had gone on teaching for another decade, but we both agreed her “tough love” approach might not have been as well received in the modern era of teaching. I remember a time I was calling my mom at work; I was somewhere in my 20’s and had already moved away from Massachusetts. Back then, before cell phones, each classroom had a landline, and our family thought nothing about bothering her at any time during her workday. So, as she was chatting with me, the students were starting to get a little loud. She put the phone on her shoulder and said something to the effect of, “Silence, you unruly lot!” I said, “Mom, you can’t talk to them like that.” She just laughed and said “Ah, they know I love ‘em.” That was authentically Mrs. P. She was challenging and lovable, but down to earth. One student shared, “she took pride and care in every single kid”. Another shared, “she made us laugh so hard. She was that teacher with the perfect combination of high expectations in the most loving and connective way. I can perfectly picture her smile, her laugh, her stern face...all of it made her so unbelievable.”
Sixth grade is a difficult and pivotal time in a child’s life. My sister and I are in the throes of middle school with our own sons right now and it doesn’t come without its share of hair pulling. But then I reflect on the fact that my mother held herself in that space for over 25 years, continuing to take on the challenges of adolescent curiosity, testing authority, emerging from childhood, and building lifelong skills and faith. An early student shared, “you have no idea how heaven-sent your mom was to us in 6th grade…she was our life!!! She had just started, and we bombarded her with everything. She was a love to us all.” Another shared, “Mrs. Perkins, to my brother and me, was one of the best teachers. She was patient and kind to her students. She found her calling when she became a teacher.”
This description of mom’s genuine and loving nature sums it up:
“Mrs. Perkins will forever be my favorite teacher, and to say I’m heartbroken would be an understatement. She created a safe space for a 6th grader to mature and find themselves and was able to weed out nonsense …She was a riot and loved to laugh, and was the first teacher to speak to us like the young adults we were. Though in everyone else’s defense, we were children before 6th grade. But from the start, she spoke to us leading with respect and dignity and again within that safe, sacred space, she guided us to maturity. Mrs. P taught us about the Holocaust. It was the first time I had really been exposed to another religion, never mind genocide. It was hard. So hard. But she held us and taught us what empathy felt like and brought our little 25-student class even closer together. She was so strategic and wise. She knew what she needed to do. She gave us the hardiest toolbox, without us even knowing. She taught us what Catholic really means, without even directly telling us. Mrs. Perkins created a classroom you wanted to engage in. You WANTED her approval and you WANTED to do better, be better. 6th grade was not for the faint of heart and she took on our cohort with the intuition and grace of a sorceress. She was Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, and Trelawney (Truh-LAA-nee) in one. Every ten and eleven-year-old deserves to have Mrs. Perkins to guide them through the grossest, most awkward transition of their life. She changed my life and has stayed in my heart and influenced me for thirty years.”
However, as we all know too well, she’s also the voice we hear or the memory conjured when we’re writing, or in those moments we maybe get a little too self-assured. Much like myself, one former student shared, “I still tell people I hear her when I am writing, making sure all the punctuation is where it should be!” Many have gone on to careers in writing and teaching due to her influence. Two former students commented a memory back and forth and it was the best tribute. The first shared, “I saw this post just as I was wrapping up a chapter of a novel I've been working on. I absolutely would not have ever started writing or continued writing for the last 25 years if it hadn't been for Mrs. Perkins. She introduced so many wonderful books to me and encouraged me to continue writing, and that was the spark I needed when I was young.” His classmate chimed in with, “remember when you and I were writing that wild space/fantasy satire in maybe 7th grade and Mrs. Perkins saw it, critiqued the heck out of it, and then in the same breath told us to keep going?” The response: “everything I needed to hear at that age!”
The other student in that conversation went on to become a teacher, sharing “I have the honor of teaching at Holy Name now…and I share stories about Mrs. Perkins all the time. My kids know her as my favorite teacher, who took no guff and answered to no one but her students. She inspired me to be better, to push myself and work hard because I could. Thank you for everything Mrs. Perkins…and don’t worry, I carry a red pen with me every day at work.” The last part made me laugh, because I teach master’s students, and about seven years ago, my class asked me to stop grading in red pen because it was too scary to see. They wouldn’t have survived five minutes in my mom’s classes.
It’s also apparent to me that my mother made quite a lasting impression with her exuberance and unique style. I don’t think my mother ever followed a fashion trend in her life, but if you look closely, she was ahead them. Many commented on her big-framed glasses, colorful socks, flowing bohemian dresses, statement jewelry, and peasant skirts—way before they were cool. I have no idea where she found some of her signature pieces and baubles (well, I do actually, since she could never pass by a thrift store, consignment shop, or yard sale, without “having a peek”). Her quirkiness was her allure: feel a hot flash coming on—wrap a wet paper towel around your neck and keep going; want to get kids to pay attention—dance around the classroom or throw Oreo packets to them; want students to forever remember what they’re reading—turn your classroom into a literary wonderland and use comical voices for every character. At least two generations of students have commented to me about the impact reading the Chronicles of Prydain (Pree-dine) has made on them. Not because they were already avid lovers of the fantasy genre, but because Gurgi came to life with his “crunchings and munchings” when my mother would sit cross-legged on her stool, with a snack in hand making it happen. My best friend from Holy Name passed on a picture last week of the books her brother keeps from Mrs. P after over 35 years, and it was the familiar collection of Lloyd Alexander.
During the pandemic, it wasn’t safe for my mom to be out because of her condition. She hounded me to send a set of Alexander’s books for each of her grandsons to read with her over video calls, so the tradition never went away. Another student recounted how he just watched The Black Cauldron with his family and was grateful to share it with them. I fondly remember my mother being so excited to take my sister and I to an evening screening of that movie, but we ended up being the only ones in the theater, so I’m happy it lives on somewhere. Whether it was a coveted spot in the comfy green chair in her classroom, her extensive pig and angel collections, or her many Gale-isms (like “hold the phone, Jerome!”), these are the moments that endure.
One of my mother’s hidden talents was finding the child or person who needed her the most and helping them through their difficult times, in the most effortless way. This could be in the form of going the extra mile, like when she helped a student with a science project for an entire week after school, or always having a welcoming smile or laugh for a parent who knew they were coming in to receive difficult news about their child. The singular comment, “The woman never gave up on me!” stood out. One of her afterschool care partners remembered, “Gale was the sunshine the kids needed every day. I never saw a teacher listen to a child the way she did. She made time and had patience with them.” Another remarked, “Mrs. P was amazing. She gave me the courage and the strength to be myself and walk with my head up high.” My mom could draw out the person who was awkward and shy by making them feel important and special. A former student shared this: “Mrs. P was the first teacher to encourage my love of reading and writing. She took a very introverted kid and made her feel seen and talented. So much of what I have become, I attribute to her early influence and care. In a weird and wonderful coincidence, I was logging into an online account yesterday and it asked me a security question: “Who was your favorite teacher?” Without pausing a second, I typed the correct answer, now and always: “Mrs. Perkins.”
It's wonderful to hear so many stories of her from across the years, but there were also times my mom was working her magic right under my nose and I didn’t even know it. One of my other best friends from Holy Name shared this story:
“There is no such thing as coincidences because not even a week ago I was sharing how I got my nickname because of your mom and how I had the best English teacher ever! Your mom had a major impact on me growing up. My friend and I were talking about teachers that influenced us and it will always be Mrs. P for me! I remember in 8th when my parents were divorcing, and I came alone to our 8th grade dinner with my Dad because my mom decided to not come. Your mom could tell I was upset that night. She walked over, and sat down with me and Dad and said, “can I steal her for a few?” I thought “oh no, maybe I was making fun of someone and she heard me.” She took me into the kitchen to help with the sodas and said, “are you doing okay kiddo?” I told her yes and she grabbed me, gave me the biggest hug and said “this is just the beginning of your story and your mom is doing everything she can to make you happy, but sometimes mom’s need a break too.” I told her mom and dad were fighting really bad again before we came to the dinner and she said “well maybe you should write a story about it because one day it may help someone else going through the same.” I was so awkward back then, as you know, because of what was going on at home and she walked me back to my Dad and sat with us for like 20 minutes, telling my Dad how much she loved me and was going to miss me. She got up and said “Becca, that’s your nickname and you need to own it. It’s so different because you’re different.”
Her influence wasn’t just reserved for tweens and preteens. She shared her wit, laughter, and guidance with everyone. A former colleague shared, “Gale was assigned as my mentor when I became a teacher at Holy Name. I still use her words of wisdom to me…Go in strong, you can always lighten up. If you go in too lightly, it’ll be harder to toughen up.” Another added, “I loved her like a second mother. She was the most special person I met during my time as a teacher.” My mother held tightly to so many special friends in her time on this Earth. I wanted to share the amazing praise from one of her best friends who couldn’t be here, Sharon Sullivan:
“To love someone is the hardest part of life. I know this because of how difficult it is to let that someone go, even when it is for their highest good. Which is why I am not ready to let my beautiful friend go. I don’t have the strength to do it! Gale had both the strength and the faith to face any challenge in life. She had always been one of the strongest women I have had the privilege to know. Her devotion to her faith gave her the confidence to know she never had to face these challenges alone. Her faith was so strong that I believed it to be contagious. Thank God! I knew from the moment I met Gale that we would become friends because she was humble, empathetic, and she had integrity. I believed these to be some of the best qualities a friend could possess. She was authentic! As our friendship grew, it felt more like a gift. Over time, I realized our friendship was even more, it was truly a blessing. It was God sent! In fact, I saw her as an earth angel. I thought Gale would be “forever” which is why I struggle to let go of her. My heart just won’t cooperate. It’s broken! In the meantime, I will wait for my beautiful friend to work her magic from above. When I feel her strength touch upon me with the softness of her wings, then I will let go.”
These beautiful memories, from the people she touched, are what we, in her family, have always known. My mother was a force of nature. She was the embodiment of love and service. She was a person who would roll up her sleeves and stand side-by-side with you in the hard work. She delighted in caring for her family, helping those who were aging, serving the church, and loving her grandsons. She was the kind of mother who read you and your friends candlelight stories by Edgar Allen Poe at your fourth-grade sleepover. She was the kind of daughter to quickly say “don’t tell Nana”, after we drove our metal tricycle to the bottom of their pool while they were on vacation. She was the kind of protector who wrangled a snake away from three mischievous kids, only to find it dangling by its teeth at the end of her hand. She was the kind of fun lover with the vision to transform an old refrigerator box into a puppet show/clubhouse for her daughters, even if it ended her in the emergency room when she stabbed herself with the Exacto knife and passed out. She was the kind of playful soul who enjoyed a game of family-vacation poker, as long as everyone wore a funny hat, and my sister had her cheat sheet to remember which hand beat which. She was the kind of person who brought down the house with a mother-daughter wedding jitterbug dance.
I see so much of her in me and my sister. Every time my sister frets over someone being sad, even for a minute, or dotes on her husband to make sure he never has a care in the world—there’s Mom. Every time one of us is dispensing “tough for your own good” love with our kids or using sarcasm as an art form—there’s Mom. When I find myself dancing through the aisles of a grocery store because I love the song, or magically turning the wheel into the parking lot of a passing thrift store—there’s Mom. She’s at the core of who we are. She’s the reason we care deeply, live boldly, give what we can, and have faith in others.
An old teammate of mine paid me the best compliment the other day. She said, “reading your mother’s obituary helps me understand where you get your Superwoman spirit from!” My mom was an original Wonder Woman. A trait she inherited from her mother, and something she’s passed onto her daughters. A former student wrote, “If she had such a life-changing effect on me and so many, I could only imagine how wonderful life was with Gale for a mother.” I can say, unequivocally, that it was an epic adventure and a gift.
I know I’ve got to bring this to a close, because my mother didn’t like to be the center of attention. I was reminded of that by a former student who said, “I can’t get too mushy, she wouldn’t have liked that.” I’ll be surprised if I made it this far without some tears, but now they’re tears of joy and comfort. My mentor sent me a note last week that read, “Carl Sagan said we’re all made of stardust. Your mom has rejoined the stars and she’s shining down on all of us. She will shine bright.” I like picturing that. I like that we have her watching down and marveling at the beauty her life as produced. I’ve been speaking with Mrs. dos Santos at Holy Name and we’re going to be setting up a fund for an annual scholarship in Mom’s name to inspire the love of writing in students, and they’ll be starting an annual Gale Perkins Reading Challenge to encourage students to read for enjoyment. Please consider joining us in these efforts. Or find other little ways to keep her spirit alive in your life. Share a treasured book with someone you love, practice acts of kindness, or sing the hymns extra loud in Mass—she’d like that. Our best gift back to her is to have a life well-lived.
Thank you.
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