Back in the ’60s, I was a Junior Girl Scout from the fourth to sixth grade. This was at Sacred Heart Elementary School in Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

No matter what you’ve heard about Thin Mints, let me assure you that back then Scouting was all about filling up that green sash with badges. Any girl with a drop of competitiveness in her soul worked every angle to earn more badges that her sisters in green.

I scoured the thick blue Girl Scout Handbook regularly, looking for badges that would be a good fit. Cooking badge? Not a problem. Dad and my brothers particularly enjoyed that one, as Mom gave me a weekly baking lesson. Sewing badge? Took a class at the local Girls Club.

Pen Pal badge? Sure, why not?

Thing is, to earn that badge you needed a bona-fide pen pal. It couldn’t be a fellow Scout from your troop, though, and – although I’m sure Mom would have done it in a heartbeat – it couldn’t be anyone who lived in your home.

Mom suggested Grandma Cassidy.

Taking pen in hand, I wrote Grandma a letter, asking if she’d be my pen pal. Just so she’d know what she would be getting herself into, I included the list of mandated badge-earning tasks. Serious stuff.

Years later – and long after I’d sewn the Pen Pal badge onto my sash – Grandma and I still corresponded regularly. In the foolishness of youth, I didn’t save her letters. How I now wish I had (although I had one heck of a time reading her writing sometimes – Mom and I could usually decipher the hardest words, though).

So imagine my thrill when I came upon this envelope stuffed with family photos, some of which are more than a century old.

Grandma – then known as Cecelia Margaret Regan – is seated directly behind the young man sitting in the front row. She has a big white bow in her hair. Oh, wait – they all do! She’s the sixth girl from the left, front row.

And what’s this?

Grandma took the time to write notes on the manila envelope. More notes on the back of many of the photos. And a few on the front of them (gasp!).

As Gary and I looked through the precious stack last night, I whispered, “Thank you, Grandma!” over and over. My pen pal had once again come through for me.

Dad has a running joke that there are no photos of Grandma Cassidy in existence. It seems she either cut her head out of family photos or used a pen to scratch out her face. (I’ve now seen proof of her editing; oh, Grandma!)

But this one survived. It will soon be framed and displayed in our home:

I’d only seen this photo once before, back in 1982. Several months after our wedding, Gary and I went to visit Grandma. Sadly, she hadn’t made her planned trip to Indiana, as Grandpa had just passed.

While visiting with her first grandson-in-law, Grandma was at her rascally best. Her parents were both born in Ireland, and it she exuded the mischievous nature of a leprechaun. “Do you recognize this movie star?” she asked poor Gary. He admitted to not recognizing the starlet. “It is I!” she declared with her signature laugh.

Grandma and I continued to write to each other until her death in the spring of 1991. Two months later, our John was born, with a twinkle in his blue eyes and deep dimples in his soft cheeks. To this day, I believe a generous potion of Grandma’s blithe spirit was bequeathed to John, who carries it well.

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