Middle brother Dave recently came across a batch of photos he took long ago. I asked him if he’d like to put together a blog post about them; happily, he said yes. Here is his story: The Brownie camera, an inexpensive point-and-shoot, democratized photography in the mid-century USA. Mom and Dad gave me my Brownie Fiesta on either Christmas 1965 or my ninth birthday the following March. These photos all date from 1966 and are of places in and around…
Our siblings and cousins are checking in this afternoon, asking each other how the blizzard is treating them. Here in southern Indiana, we did not have snow in the forecast. Yet, yesterday and today, a few flakes managed to blow around. Very few. Connecticut and New York are getting hit hard, with heavy snow and high winds. True to form, Harry’s wife, Linda, good-naturedly grumbled about only getting a few inches in Maine. This doesn’t exactly meet the “historic proportions”…
Growing up, storytime with Mom wasn’t so much about princes and princesses. The theme was more witches, black cats, and cauldrons. Yet in 2005, as a grandmother of seven, she wrote about the princes who came to visit one day. The Suitors The princes came Somehow she stayed awakeenduring flattery and flufftheir mouths were coffersfull of father lips were tired of smilingof eyes of searchingnot one would she wishto rule beside her They left at lastshe walked into her garden…
My sister-in-law Linda sent me this video from Sunday. It was the final song of the service at their church that morning in Waterville, Maine. That’s her husband, my oldest brother Harry, singing this painful song: The Streets of Minneapolis, music and lyrics by Bruce Springsteen Note: Click the “cc” at the top-right (on your phone) or bottom (on your desktop) of the video screen to see the lyrics. I asked Harry if he was okay with me sharing the…
Mom would call this Meatloaf Weather. Frigidly cold, snowy, with no end in sight. Here’s her recipe, which she sent to me shortly after Gary and I married. I don’t know the story behind the name – could it be her mother’s recipe? Or, more probably, it’s a combination of recipes from friends, relatives, Dad’s feedback, and the back of the oatmeal container. Momma’s Meatloaf 1 lb. (or more) ground beef3/4 to 1 cup quick oatsonion (optional)2 eggs, beaten2 Tablespoons…
A newspaper clip from 1896 caught my eye a while back: a grave robbery, it seems, might have taken a relative to parts unknown. So far, I haven’t found a direct connection on our family tree. But the surname is Pooler (Dad’s paternal grandmother’s maiden name) and the location is Waterville, Maine. We’ve got a lot of kin from that part of the Pine Tree State. Augustus was born in Waterville on January 15, 1849, the son of Ephraim and…
Who’s afraid of poetry? Good question! Mom asked this half a century ago. The answers may well be the same today: Four Tell Who’s afraid of poetry?Not I, said the football player.I don’t understand it, butthe words are kind of pretty. Who’s afraid of poetry?Not I, said the busy housewife.I even write some. It’s not goodbut it makes me feel good. Who’s afraid of poetry?Not I, said the dilettante.I never was. But I don’t like this sharing;it’s getting to be…
Yesterday morning, what may well have been a murmuration of starlings came racing through our back woods like a blinding blizzard. I just happened to be perched in my comfy chair in the sunroom, with a wide-eyed panoramic view of the squall. It was wild! Farmer Gary later explained to me the birds are rather frantic this time of year, looking for food and a bit of warmth. They flew in from the northwest and crowded in the tree branches…
Sometimes when searching for family information in newspaper archives, there’s a story that simply must be shared. Today’s search was in the Bangor Weekly Courier. The year: 1854. I was looking for Olympe Josephine Poulin Lambert, my great-great-great grandmother (her daughter Olive was George Vayo‘s mother). The poor woman only lived to be 35 or 36. I was hoping to at least discover her date of death and burial place. Using the unusual first name of Olympe, the search began….
The mercury hit 57 today and may make it even higher tomorrow. That is what you call a January Thaw! Thing is, there’s nothing to thaw. No snow since last month, and even then, not much to brag about here in southern Indiana. No doubt that will change in the coming weeks and I’ll eat my words, crunching on icicles all the while. Growing up in western Massachusetts, we had a January thaw each year. The best part (next to…