Henry Blodget

Henry Blodget, 1931-2023 Henry Blodget died peacefully on January 4th, in his home in Stamford, Connecticut. He was with his family, including his three children, his partner, Terri Asiel, and his dog, Adaline. Henry’s grandchildren and friends visited, emailed, called, and FaceTimed often in his last few weeks. His favorite moments in life were those with his friends and family, and he soaked them up until the end. Henry was born on January 2, 1931, the third of four children. His father, Donald McKelvey Blodget, was a banker. His mother, Barbara Barnes Blodget, a writer. Henry and his siblings—Donald, Kappy, and Debby—and their families stayed close for the next eight decades. Henry grew up in a big house on Buttonwood Lane in Darien. His least-favorite chore, he later told his city-raised children, was chopping the heads off chickens so his mother could cook them. In the summers, he rode his bike to and from the Tokeneke Club on the shore, where he learned to play tennis. At 16, he won the club championship. Henry went to Choate and then Yale, where he played on the Men’s Varsity Soccer and Tennis teams. Then known as “Hank,” Henry was Yale’s soccer center-forward—and a prodigious goal scorer. In three years, Henry set four all-time school records for goals and assists. One of these records — most goals in a season — still stands. Asked recently what made him so good, Henry credited his lifelong friend Paul Dietche, the team’s captain and midfielder: “Paul did all the work,” he said. “I just knew where the ball was going to be.” After graduating from Yale in 1953, Henry joined the Navy, serving as an ensign on the destroyer escort USS Weeden. The Weeden was based in Long Beach and operated off the Pacific Coast. Once, when the Weeden was in port, the ship received a message from a local admiral requesting that Ensign Blodget join him for a friendly tennis game. The ensign complied with the request — and beat the admiral. Henry drove across the United States 11 times, including once in a convertible, once with his son, and once with his daughter. He climbed the Grand Teton and Matterhorn. He flew Piper Cubs. In the winters, before he got married, he and his friends drove from New York City to Vermont and back on Route 22 every weekend to ski — six hours each way. In a club downhill ski race at Mont-Tremblant, he took the “direct route” (over a cliff) and won a gold medal. Later in life, he learned to hang-glide. After leaving the Navy in 1955, Henry joined First National City Bank in New York. He became a loan officer and Vice President, handling relationships with clients in New York, California, Wyoming, Alaska, New England, and other regions of the U.S. Henry stayed with the bank—eventually, Citicorp—for more than 25 years. He finished his career at the Putnam Trust Company in Greenwich, Connecticut. What Henry loved most about his job was the people he worked with and the relationships he made. His children were amazed by the number of friends he had, all over the United States, as well as how highly they spoke of him. Henry was a gentleman, with a good nature and disposition, and he emphasized the importance of operating in good faith. Those who met him, even briefly, often mentioned his kindness. Later, when Henry’s grandson received a “Good Bloke” award in kindergarten, everyone knew where it came from. In 1962, Henry married Cornelia (“Neil”) Cudlipp, who grew up in Wilton, Connecticut. Henry and Neil had three children — Henry, Sherrill, and Katharine. The family lived in New York City and spent long weekends and Augusts at an old farmhouse in Green River, Vermont. Henry built a stone fireplace outside the farmhouse, and the family gathered around it in the evenings. In Vermont, and on summer vacations in Nantucket, Henry taught his children to swim, fish, snorkel, shoot, sled, ski, sail, canoe, hike, drive tractors, mow fields, build treehouses and dollhouses, draw, paint, play the guitar, sing, and make maple syrup. Henry was known for the amount of stuff he could cram into and onto the family station wagon: Two adults, 2-5 children (friends), 3 cats, a dog, 5 bicycles (vertical), boxes, suitcases, duffles, games, and sporting equipment. One friend of Henry’s found this packing feat so astonishing — and visually comical — that she asked him to drive the overloaded station wagon past her house just so she could see it. After Neil died in 1992, Henry knew he had a big family hole to fill — and he more than filled it. Over the next four decades, his children learned and benefitted from his consistency, energy, and integrity, and they always felt his love and support. For example: after leaving for high school, Henry’s restless children moved into and out of dorm rooms and residences more than 50 times. Henry helped schlep their boxes and furniture and drive them to their new homes more than 40 of these times. Henry’s children also only rarely had to take taxis to and from New York airports — because, for decades, Henry insisted on driving them himself. Asked why he did this, Henry said it was a convenient way to spend more time with his kids. Also, he loved to drive. After retiring, Henry moved back to Fairfield County. He reconnected with old friends and made new ones, and he started playing tennis again. He became the No. 2-ranked player in the 70-and-over category in the USTA’s New England district. He also earned a national ranking in the USTA’s “Super-Senior Father and Son” doubles, despite having to carry his partner. (As his son observed, Henry would have beaten all the dads.) Henry also joined “Wimbledon,” a local tennis group that got together after games for pizza dinners in Darien. At one of these events, Henry met his partner Terri. Over the next 27 years, Henry and Terri traveled all over the world together, including China, Alaska, Hawaii, the Adirondacks, Russia, and Switzerland, where Henry returned to the Matterhorn. On many of these trips, Henry and Terri brought their kids and grandkids. They also loved to play tennis, dance, and visit with friends together. Henry wanted his last job as a parent to be to “not become a burden” to his children (as if). At the age of 88, he packed up his house in Old Greenwich and moved himself to the Edgehill retirement community in Stamford, which was less than a mile away. During Henry’s four years at Edgehill, he often marveled at the amazing people he met and how much he enjoyed the breakfasts, “wine and cheese socials,” and other times he shared with them. In recent years, Henry sometimes told his children he hoped to live to be a hundred. He wasn’t afraid of what was coming next, he said — he just didn’t want to leave. Asked to describe this feeling more precisely, he explained: “I will miss you all.” For those fortunate enough to know Henry, the sentiment is mutual. We will have a memorial service for Henry on May 20th, 3:00-4:30pm at Edgehill in Stamford. In lieu of flowers, Henry would be grateful if you made a donation to an organization you care about that helps people or animals. He would also want to thank you personally for being his friend. Thank you!