When my sister-in-law told me she had a boyfriend, I was taken aback. Linda quickly assured me, though, that her admirer was a hard-headed, well … rock. My brother Harry good-naturedly explained further: A few years ago I wrote a story inspired by Linda’s dalliances. She passed on your request for the story, & I’m happy to oblige. Although it’s fiction, the rock itself & the conflict between whimsical hikers & the humorless land trust is real. As you can…
Thanks to my second-cousin Mark, I just came upon a dozen or more poems Grandpa Vayo wrote shortly after he relocated to Paducah in 1926. He was the new Advertising Manager at the J.A. Rudy & Son department store. Grandpa must have been so lonely! Paducah, Kentucky, is far away from Brewer, Maine. And this was a century ago. It was months before Grandma traveled all those miles to marry him on Thanksgiving Day. A poet, musician, and artist, Grandpa…
It took a while to determine that the fellow featured in this article was the father of Mom’s aunts Madeline Regan and Evelyn Sturmer, but everything matches up, so here we go: We’re talking about Leopold Sturmer. He was born on a farm near Hartford on April 15, 1878. In 1902, Leopold not only worked for a newspaper, he was featured in that paper: Apparently, young Leopold’s physique was so impressive, the local YMCA engaged a professional photographer: Here’s some…
Right now, our “Feels Like” temperature is just two degrees short of triple digits. And it’s September! I’ve always been an indoor cat, so there’s really nothing for me to complain about, as long as the air conditioning holds out longer than this heat wave. Here’s a poem Grandpa Vayo wrote a century ago. It was published in the Paducah Sun on August 27, 1926. To me, it feels as miserable as the weather. Pessimism The still-born day breaks in…
Farmer Gary has exactly one story to tell about his maternal great-grandmother Catherina Schum. She was born Catherina (also spelled Katharina) Jent here in northern Spencer County, Indiana, on February 15, 1856. Census records tell us she could read and write – but only in German. She married widower Henry Schum on February 13, 1877. What a lovely couple! We don’t know much about Katharina, except that she told the 1910 and 1920 census takers her occupation was Farmer. Most…
Mom and Dad had distinctly different sleep patterns. Dad was the early-to-bed, early-to-rise type. I wondered what type of feathered friend an official Early Bird might be. Judging from the above picture, maybe a goose? Mom, on the other hand, loved to stay up late. She was the ultimate Night Owl: Reading, chatting with her adult children when they visited, even writing poetry: Warm Where You Were The early riser leaves meto a later hour You crest in morningwhile I…
Well, look at that – this month we have books from Ireland, England, the U.S., France, and Denmark! Book #1 Land by Maggie O’Farrell After reading Hamnet earlier this year, I knew Maggie O’Farrell’s work to be irresistible. Yes, Land is a novel, but it’s based on a mapmaker ancestor from her family tree. Generations of loss and love unfold over the chapters. And there’s a villain I’ll never forgive! While reading Land, I missed my red-haired mom so much….
This is a tough one. Remember Galen Veayo? He was a Purple Heart recipient in World War II for injuries suffered in the Battle of the Bulge. Galen and Dad were second cousins. Galen had a twin sister, Oleavia. They were born in Ontario in 1920 and grew up in Bangor, Maine. Oleavia graduated from high school in 1939. Although she did not have a senior picture (nor did Galen), this yearbook blurb gives us some insight: Oleavia Veayo is…
Farmer Gary has always been crazy about his dad’s uncle Rob Wigger. Rob was a lovable character. He’d grown up on a farm near where we live today, so his visits were always full of questions for Gary. To me, it felt like a pop quiz. Gary passed with flying colors each time. We’ve been digging around all week looking for a photo or two of Rob, and what we have is a beautiful family portrait, probably taken in 1918….
It was always a treat to visit Grandma and Grandpa Cassidy when we were growing up in the 1960s. The drive to New Haven, Connecticut, took about 2.5 hours. Sometimes we’d stop at a breakfast diner and Dad would cough up a few nickels for the booth’s jukebox so we could play a song or two. Most often it would be On Top of Spaghetti, that old classic. It was always a thrill when Dad started pointing, “There it is…