Maxwell B. Lambert

COLEBROOK — Maxwell B. “Max†Lambert Jr., 82, of Colebrook died Oct. 27, 2009, at Laurel Hill Health Care Center in Winsted, following a lengthy illness. He was the husband of Barbara (Blackstone) Lambert.

Born in Marlboro, Mass., March 7, 1927, he was a son of the late Florence (Whitney) and Maxwell B. Lambert. He had lived in Colebrook since 1971.  Prior to his retirement, he had worked for the Connecticut Light & Power Co. for more than 40 years, retiring as a area supervisor in Falls Village. He was an Army veteran of World War II and life member of VFW Post 296.

In addition to his wife of 59 years, he is survived by his children, Randall Lambert and his wife, Rae, of Opopka, Fla., Peter Lambert and his wife, Carol, of Colebrook, Melissa Bennett and her husband, Paul, of Goshen; 13 grandchildren, Joshua Lambert, Melissa Bosco, Eric and Danielle Lambert, Ashley, Chase, Paige, Brooks, Abbeigh, Parker, Hayleigh, Hunter and Loghan Bennett; and four great-grandchildren. He was predeceased by a brother, James Lambert.

Funeral services with military honors and calling hours will be announced at a later date. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to a charity of the donor’s choice. To leave an online condolence, visit

Latest News

Walking among the ‘Herd’

Michel Negroponte

Betti Franceschi

"Herd,” a film by Michel Negroponte, will be screening at The Norfolk Library on Saturday April 13 at 5:30 p.m. This mesmerizing documentary investigates the relationship between humans and other sentient beings by following a herd of shaggy Belted Galloway cattle through a little more than a year of their lives.

Negroponte and his wife have had a second home just outside of Livingston Manor, in the southwest corner of the Catskills, for many years. Like many during the pandemic, they moved up north for what they thought would be a few weeks, and now seldom return to their city dwelling. Adjacent to their property is a privately owned farm and when a herd of Belted Galloways arrived, Negroponte realized the subject of his new film.

Keep ReadingShow less
Fresh perspectives in Norfolk Library film series

Diego Ongaro

Photo submitted

Parisian filmmaker Diego Ongaro, who has been living in Norfolk for the past 20 years, has composed a collection of films for viewing based on his unique taste.

The series, titled “Visions of Europe,” began over the winter at the Norfolk Library with a focus on under-the-radar contemporary films with unique voices, highlighting the creative richness and vitality of the European film landscape.

Keep ReadingShow less
New ground to cover and plenty of groundcover

Young native pachysandra from Lindera Nursery shows a variety of color and delicate flowers.

Dee Salomon

It is still too early to sow seeds outside, except for peas, both the edible and floral kind. I have transplanted a few shrubs and a dogwood tree that was root pruned in the fall. I have also moved a few hellebores that seeded in the near woods back into their garden beds near the house; they seem not to mind the few frosty mornings we have recently had. In years past I would have been cleaning up the plant beds but I now know better and will wait at least six weeks more. I have instead found the most perfect time-consuming activity for early spring: teasing out Vinca minor, also known as periwinkle and myrtle, from the ground in places it was never meant to be.

Planting the stuff in the first place is my biggest ever garden regret. It was recommended to me as a groundcover that would hold together a hillside, bare after a removal of invasive plants save for a dozen or so trees. And here we are, twelve years later; there is vinca everywhere. It blankets the hillside and has crept over the top into the woods. It has made its way left and right. I am convinced that vinca is the plastic of the plant world. The stuff won’t die. (The name Vinca comes from the Latin ‘vincire’ which means ‘to bind or fetter.’) Last year I pulled a bunch and left it strewn on the roof of the root cellar for 6 months and the leaves were still green.

Keep ReadingShow less