When John Fiddler and Benjamin Hamblen met on match.com in 2008, they had been living within a block of one another in Manhattan for years. “In all that time we just never met,” says John, a palliative care nurse practitioner and volunteer with Doctors Without Borders. Around that time, Benjamin—a creative whiz who worked for high-profile brands including Kate Spade and Liz Claiborne—realized he was tired of the city and wanted to roll the proceeds from a well-timed real estate sale into a forever home upstate.
A friend knew of a multi-acre plot of land in Hyde Park, with seasonal Hudson River views, coming on the market. Enter Benjamin, with some money to invest and a full suite of ideas for a mid-century modern house mostly inspired by those built in the 1950s and ‘60s by California-based developer Joseph Eichler, who leaned into clean lines, open floor plans, huge windows, and indoor-outdoor living. He found his collaborator in architect Ethan Gerard, principal of Gerard Architecture in NYC, and together they came up with plans for an eco-friendly, geothermally heated and cooled residence. The finished design called for 2,600 square feet of finished living space, split between two pavilions connected by an entry area and breezeway. With an airy kitchen and living area, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an office, the couple had everything they needed. “The house really was Benjamin’s baby,” John recalls.
The build was completed in 2010, and Benjamin and John got married in the fall of 2012. “We had the ceremony and a wonderful celebration right here on the back lawn, with both of our mothers in attendance,” says John. “We couldn’t have asked for more.” They felt lucky to have found each other and loved living with so much nature around them: deer, turkeys, hawks, eagles, and an occasional skunk. Life was good, until one fateful day in May 2021. John was on his way back upstate from the city—the couple kept his studio to stay over for work as needed—when a call came from a neighbor. Benjamin had been in a catastrophic bike accident right by their house. He could not be saved.
John, who often counseled grieving partners in his work as a nurse practitioner, was shaken to his core. “Benjamin was literally here one day and gone the next,” he says. “Sudden loss like that is just indescribable.” Close friends planned a memorial celebration at the house, relieving John of having to do so when he was in such shock. “But when the dust settled a bit, I said to myself, ‘Can I still live here?’ Do I even want to?’” Quickly, the answer was yes. “Benjamin built this place specifically for us,” he reflects. “His spirit is still here.”
