‘Song for a Berkshire House’

‘Song for a Berkshire House’

Mom sure loved living in Pittsfield.

Known as “The Heart of the Berkshires,” Pittsfield was our childhood home from 1962 through 1970. Located in western Massachusetts, Pittsfield is surrounded by the scenic Berkshire Mountains.

This poem from 1972 caught my eye the other day. Even though we’d moved to Fairfield, Conn., nearly two years prior, Mom was still thinking about Pittsfield:

Song for a Berkshire House

There, in the snow-and-autumn house,
early November blue and white feeling
of frost, and sky of snow, rooftop colors
of gray and green and lavender, we lived
the seasons watching our trees and children
grow, knowing the children, too, would go
outside these windows. Warm in their beds
at night we felt the air moving about them,
the future stirring on their good brave backs.
We who have lit the fires only stoke them now,
reluctantly and willingly laying aside
the bellows, putting the axe to rest.

~ Joan Vayo 2/9/72


Mom must have been feeling the pull on her heart of knowing Harry would head for college the following year.

Harry and Bill in our Pittsfield backyard, Berkshire County.
Harry and Bill in our Pittsfield backyard in 1966. That fence divided our yard from Mrs. Henderson’s. Bill called her Mrs. Henny-Hen.

The sofa in this next photo is now in cousin Suzanne’s home. Our Grandpa Cassidy upholstered it as a gift when Mom and Dad married in 1952. This sounds like geezer talk, but here goes: “They don’t make ’em like they used to!” The sofa (which Mom always referred to as our “love seat”) is still sturdy and comfortable.

That’s baby Billy in 1964, with older brothers Harry and Dave, on Christmas morn.

A portion of our old family photographs have the month and year stamped on them, but apparently not all photo developers did this. Some old photos are easy to identify, others not so much.

This next photo is from either 1963 or ’65, because in 1964 Mom was pregnant with Billy, her final child and the only one of us born in Berkshire County. Her large flowerful hat is probably a dead giveaway if you’re into fashion history (I’m not). It looks like we were getting ready for Easter Sunday church. I don’t even remember that particular car …

But I sure do remember that hat!

Easter morn in Pittsfield, Berkshire County.
Mom and Dave, both Aries, are smiling at the photographer (Dad), while Harry fusses with his tie and I apparently scowl at Mom’s hat. While cropping this photo, I noticed someone walking on the sidewalk across the street (right above Harry’s head). That fellow is probably in his 80s now.

Mom was unquestionably devoted to her family throughout our childhood and beyond. She was also a prolific poet. We’re so grateful to have her collection still with us to offer a peek at what she was thinking about all those years ago.

Mom in our Pittsfield kitchen, Halloween time in 1967.

Song for a Berkshire House © 1972, Joan C. Vayo. All rights reserved.

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George
George
July 11, 2021 7:10 pm

Your mother was such a fine writer/poet. You, too. We have been dealing with the sad aftermath these last three months after my mother-in-law passed away. I was the one who cleaned out her house.

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