A number of years ago, Gary and I were in Amish Country in Daviess County, Indiana. We strolled over to a nearby flea market (more to walk off the good meal we’d just enjoyed, frankly, than any desire to shop). We wandered by several rows of tables in the open-air market. After a few minutes, I noticed Gary was no longer by my side. He motioned me over, back to a table I’d hurried past. Gary pointed sadly toward several…
“Well, I tried. But I struck out.” Poor Gary. He’d just made a trip to the local Christmas store in search of a very specific ornament, but came home empty-handed. We’d already found a squirrel ornament for Dad. And a bear for cousin Beth. But the ornament for Beth’s dad, Uncle Bill, wasn’t as easy. Bill loves, loves, loves baseball. And the New York Yankees. Especially his Yankees. When you live in New York or New England, you’ve got choices…
Setting #1: Ferdinand, Indiana The phone call came late Sunday night. It was the call I’d dreaded, but knew I had to answer. “Mom died peacefully about a half hour ago, with Dad holding her hand.” Bill, my baby brother, the Marine, the caregiver, was gentle but straightforward as always. We spent the next few days making travel plans for her funeral and scanning countless photos of Mom from her 89 years. Bill’s wife, Barbara – a graphic artist –…
You know what, Mom? You’ve got grit. The silence over the phone led me to quickly guess that no one had ever said this to her before. All her life she’d been the sweet, kind poet. Generous, quick with a smile and a hug. Gentle voiced. All her life, she’d also battled depression, anxiety, and an unhealthy dose of Irish-Catholic guilt. Yet somehow she prevailed. You never give up, Mom. No matter what the situation, you dig down within yourself…
Mom and Dad are both 89 years old. And today is their 67th wedding anniversary. They still hold hands. They still laugh together. And they still say, “I love you.” Mom and Dad met when they were 13 years old. Dad’s family moved in across the street from Mom’s house in New Haven, Connecticut. Just a year later, they promised to always be together. They kept that promise. But their education came first. Dad headed to Rhode Island and Providence…
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…
Christmas is a big deal around our house. When the boys were little, we went a bit nuts with what went under the tree. To counteract that gimme-gimme message, we always made a point of anonymously donating wrapped gifts to children in need. It was a fun family activity to pick out gifts for these boys and girls and wrap them in festive paper. When James was in Beta Club in high school, he came home one day with a…
So where did Dad fit in with yesterday’s post about 8th grade graduation? He and Mom were both born in 1930 (his birthday is May 28, so he’s slightly younger). He should have been in that photo, too, right? One would think … Dad’s family moved from Lowell, Massachusetts, to New Haven in 1943. They moved in right across the street from the Cassidys on Chatham Street. The Vayos at number 32 and the Cassidys at 33. Dad started out…
Nowadays, there are graduation ceremonies to celebrate moving on from nearly every grade and every activity. It used to annoy me until I realized the end result could be a photo like this one: Back in my parents’ day, though, it took many years of study to achieve a graduation ceremony. At St. Francis School in New Haven, Connecticut, there was even a group portrait taken when the class passed out of 8th grade. There’s Mom – Joan Cassidy- in…
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…