My mom and her sister, Bunny, are what sisters ought to be. To this day, they stay in touch regularly and visit when they can.

Mom was born April 6, 1930 and christened Joan Virginia Cassidy. Her sister, whom we’ve always called Bunny, arrived a few years later, on January 17, 1933. Cecelia Frances Cassidy was her given name; first name for her mother and middle name for her dad.

The good Lord gifted both sisters with red hair.

‘Twas the luck of the Irish. They lived at 33 Chatham Street in New Haven, Connecticut.

The above photo is dated July 6, 1939. It looks like the sisters are enjoying a treat (hard to tell exactly what, maybe ice cream cones?) and a friendly dog is hoping for a taste.

Mom, Dad, and Bunny are scratching their noggins over that photo, trying to place the location. It may well have been at the horse track in nearby Branford where their grandpa “Pop” Regan raised and trained horses.

They raced trotters and pacers, according to Dad. Sulky racing, says Mom; also known as harness racing. That would explain the dog, as Bunny remembers lots of visitors to the track brought along their dogs. Mom remembers there was an ice cream shop located right across the road, so we may be on the right … um … track.

Here are the sisters, nearly all grown up, with their mom.

Grandma Cassidy looks so stern! (When I sent this to cousin Beth – Bunny’s younger daughter – she replied Grandma looked regal, a far better word for our beloved matriarch.) Dad added that he’s amazed that there’s a photo in existence that Grandma didn’t scratch out or otherwise remove her face. Apparently she did not like to have her photo taken.

Mom looks so modern in those slacks! This photo appears to be from the late-1940s. Bunny is all dolled up, ready for a dance?

Two side notes about this photo:

• That window shade: Oh, how we children loved those shades! Dark green, they were. We adjusted them by gently tugging on the white tasseled pull at the bottom. The sunroom at the front of the house had loads of them. Not all of us were gentle enough, though, and the pull would yank out of our fingers as the shade flew skyward, flipping madly on its roller. What a racket! Everyone in the house immediately knew the “do not touch” instructions had been … er, forgotten. Many years later, Gary tried to talk me out of getting them for our house. We got a few, though, and only in the past decade or so replaced them with something more modern and not nearly as noisy.
• That phone: Even back in the 1960s when we visited, that phone seemed old-fashioned. It was a dial phone, of course, with the bonus that it clicked. Why that was such a special feature to a little girl, I don’t know, but I loved dialing that phone and hearing the clicks when I pulled my finger away. More warnings, as I was not permitted to actually make a phone call. As long as I disconnected the call before it was completed, it was okay to play for a bit. The handset was quite heavy – almost as if it were made of cement. Loved that phone.

Mom and Bunny lost their “baby” brother Ray (also a redhead) in 2001.

When Gary and I visit Connecticut, we’re sure to pick up some Sweet Baby Ray’s barbecue sauce for whatever ribs or other pork cut we heave-ho into the slow cooker. I don’t know if Uncle Ray even liked barbecue sauce, but it seems like sort of a nice tribute to his memory. Most families light a candle, have a moment of silence … we make a kettle of pulled pork. Either way, we miss him.

Epilogue: Sadly, Mom passed away on November 24, 2019. May that wonderful woman sleep in heavenly peace.

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