Farmer Gary has been buying and cooking sweet corn like mad these last few weeks of the season. He’s also been complaining about the prices – ranging from four ears for a dollar to a dollar a piece! His shucking and cooking of corn on the cob reminded me of childhood summers. And rhubarb. Mom used to stew it and then top a scoop of vanilla ice cream with it. There was something else she’d make with it, but I…
Grandma Cassidy was one heck of a letter-writer. We may have lived 1,000 miles away from her New Haven kitchen, but she kept us up to date. (Long-distance phone calls were ridiculously expensive back then.) Grandma wrote pages upon pages to my brother Dave in April of 1977. He was a sophomore at Indiana University and, thankfully, saved her correspondence. This letter in particular tells the story of the break-in at her siblings’ house in Orange, Connecticut. Moment by dramatic…
Sue May Whiteside Williams is an impressive name. For 44 years, I’ve wondered who she is … or was. Why do I know the name, but not the person? Well, long ago she wrote it in a book. It was a book we received as a wedding present. I read it aloud to my groom during our first month as husband and wife. The book was a gift from my godmother, Georgeanna Lane, who wasn’t able to make it to…
It’s been nearly two centuries since Hans Christian Andersen wrote the fairy tale “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” Do you remember the story? Two con men trick the vain emperor, who thinks only of himself and his fancy clothes, no matter what the cost. They “weave” him a magnificent set of new clothes at great expense. The clothes are magical, in that they’re invisible to anyone who is incompetent or stupid. The emperor can’t see a stitch of the clothes –…
Every year about this time, the church picnics begin. Every weekend there’s one, and for decades the prime drawing card (and money-maker) was the same: Turtle Soup. Farmer Gary loves Turtle Soup. When I found a family recipe the other day, it got him to telling stories. Not just about the soup. About the man. Johnny Lange. The Turtle Man: Johnny Lange (pronounced “LONG-ee” … Gary would never forgive me if I didn’t add that Johnny had a brother whose…
When we moved to Indiana in 1973, I innocently believed the Ku Klux Klan was a thing of the past. That is, until a trick-or-treater arrived at our door wearing a white robe and hood. When I questioned the young boy, he replied with a racist slur. I hollered and he ran off … In college, I remember learning about the 1915 silent film The Birth of A Nation. We were taught it was a technical breakthrough, a landmark in…
It’s a good thing I like the Beatles so much, because one song in particular has been rolling around in my brain for seven years or so. ,,, and that’s because of the number of phone calls I get for someone named Michelle. From the beginning of mobile phones’ ubiquity, mine was provided by my workplace. So when retirement was anon, it was time to let someone else carry around that noisy contraption. (When grandson Cameron was a toddler, he…
Years before I married Farmer Gary, the first person I spoke with each morning was Ron. He was the morning deejay at WTCJ radio and I was the morning newsperson. This was back in the day when many small towns had their own radio station. Tell City, Indiana’s family-owned radio station had been around since the late 1940s. It was the summer of 1980, I’d finished college and was starting my first job. Before long I was put on the…
July passed so quickly! Here are the four books I read: Book 1: 1776 by David McCullough In commemoration of our nation’s 250th birthday, I got a start on this weighty volume: There’s a lot more to the story of America’s independence than what I remember from school. The individual sacrifices are worthy of our remembrance. Book 2: Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy Sayers Lord Peter Wimsey is back – this time under an assumed name – to look into…
This story is dedicated to anyone who has ever become frustrated working on a family tree: Don’t give up. A year ago, we put together the story of Harry M. Nightingale. He fought – and died – in World War I. His connection to our family tree is through his widow’s second husband. We’re family. Harry wrote an incredible letter home while overseas. His mom gave it to the local paper to share with its readers. (That letter is reprinted…