"I just had a stray thought. . . " Upon hearing those seemingly innocuous words, Tony's " target" invariably froze and braced: Tony never had "just a stray thought." The advice that inevitably followed that phrase was always carefully thought-out and (somewhat) subtle. Tony never told anyone what to do—rather, he'd socratically guide his target to the life lesson or call to action that he had been mulling for days. Regardless of his purpose, and as much as the recipient might not want to hear the stray thought, Tony was usually right, which the recipient of the stray thought already knew.


On September 20, 2023, William A. "Tony" Seward passed away at the age of 81. He loved his family—his wife of 43 years, Maureen; his children, Catie and Will; his grandchildren, Scarlett, Declan, and Teagan; his son-in-law, Chris, and daughter-in-law, Nicole; his two devoted dogs, Tullamore and Libby; and his siblings, Pete, Ginny, and Robert were always at the forefront of his thoughts and actions. He was famous for his good night texts, his calls "just to check in", and his ability to pick out the most thoughtful gifts: he insisted on going to the store—in the middle of a snowstorm— to buy blankets for his grandkids because the kids "had to have them," and, on his August visit to one of his favorite cities, Boston, he came back with Mr. Dooley's t-shirts for Will and Chris. His favorite time of day was sunset, and he loved sitting on his deck watching the colors change as the sun dipped below and between his blue spruce trees, with Maureen or his grandkids as his music—which ranged from Irish pub songs to Caribbean beats to Janis Joplin— swirled around him.


Tony was generous to a fault. If anyone had a problem, he was the first to offer assistance: when he owned a liquor store, the older ladies of the Village would come in to purportedly buy their "nips" but would stay an hour as they chatted with Tony. He rendered advice about whatever issues they brought to him. He also offered his home to anyone who needed to stay—regardless of the day, time or relation. He insisted on bringing cold water to the gardeners on even moderately warm days. Big or small, he was always ready to lend an ear or a hand.


He was also an incredible tease: in fact, Maureen didn't even like him when she first met him because he teased her mercilessly. He would yell "cow" out the window every time he drive his horse-obsessed daughter past a horse farm. He thrilled in getting a rise out of people.


Tony believed strongly in lifelong learning, and he never pigeonholed himself or his interests. A proud graduate of the College of the Holy Cross, where he studied physics, Tony started to attend law school, fulfilling a promise he made to his father. He left after one year to work on Wall Street—which he hated. He then worked for a consulting firm which required him to fly all around the country and allowed him to advise everyone from the CEO of Pepsi to small mining companies in Laborador. He served as a medic in the army after he was drafted; he used that knowledge and famously offered advice to anyone with a malady. When he finally went back to law school, after he got married and wanted to "settle down", he knew that his unconventional path had enriched him and those he'd help.


Tony's greatest dichotomy was in his steadfast beliefs in "proper" behavior—his family exposed him to fine dining, weddings at the Waldorf Astoria, and instilled a strong sense of duty—-and his "live and let live" attitude: Tony did, at times, fancy himself a motorcycle riding Key West pirate. He had the ability to comfortably assimilate into any situation in any company. He embraced adventure. He was the "Captain". He was our guiding light. He left us after he knew we would be ok, and he left on his own terms. He wouldn't have had it any other way.