Back in the 1960s, Mom started a tradition in the family. It was during Advent, those long weeks of preparation for Christmas. She set out the family creche as part of our Christmas decorations. The stable, the shepherds, the three wise men, Mary and Joseph. The tiny manger was there, too, but no Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus was hidden away until Christmas morn. Meanwhile, during those pre-holiday weeks when we children would get “itchy” (one of Mom’s great words describing…
“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…
For 27 years, I worked at an attraction in Santa Claus, Indiana, where Christmas music played from May through October. It was fun to watch unsuspecting visitors suddenly realize “Let It Snow!” was playing on the speakers in the middle of July, with outdoor temperatures approaching triple digits. Most smiled, a few rolled their eyes, several brave souls sang along. My first experience Christmas caroling was when I was three years old. Mom, who loved Christmas, announced to my brothers…
November was a time of sorrow and remembrance, as Mom left this life. Something tells me, though, that there are a lot of books in heaven. That’s a comforting thought. Mom’s legacy includes a love of reading passed on to her children, grandchildren, and beyond. I asked my brothers to help with this blog post and send some thoughts about how mom influenced their love of books. Here are their stories (presented in alphabetical order by the sibling’s name): Bill,…
I write this with a tear in my eye, as it’s the anniversary of the death of an incredible person. Jim Gosling was a college pal. We were in the Singing Hoosiers (think Glee for undergrads) together and laughed ourselves silly for three years. Our birthdays were two days apart (plus one year). My second year in Singing Hoosiers, Jim arrived, along with Vince and Mark. All so talented, full of promise; all from Elkhart. You’ve heard the term “triple…
I never met him, but David Leet meant a lot to me over the years. Captain David L. Leet. From Kenosha, Wisconsin. A Marine. He served in Vietnam. The fall of 1973, I was a sophomore at Andrew Warde High School in Fairfield, Connecticut. Typical teen, life was: 1) All about me, and 2) Totally miserable. Dad had been offered a new position with General Electric and our family was preparing to move to Indiana. It was September and America’s…
Another month comes to a close, with four more books to cross off my “must read” list. Week 1: Gunn’s Golden Rules by Tim Gunn Tim Gunn was my favorite “character” on the original Project Runway. There is something about his proper, yet warm, personality that is incredibly appealing. And his memoir reflects this throughout. Gunn artfully tells stories about his challenging childhood through successful adulthood by crafting them into themed chapters, each with sensible advice. (Long ago, I’d suggested…
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…
On Saturday, future daughter-in-law Aubrie and I spent the afternoon together in New Harmony. Brunch at the Red Geranium, a long walk, fun conversation, gorgeous weather – it was just lovely. I could kick myself for not talking a few photos, but despite decades as a publicist, my instincts lean more toward preserving memories with words. This is the only photo I took: This book drop-off outside of the Working Men’s Institute charmed us up the stone steps and inside…
Although most of my career was spent at the park (with the nickname Raven Maven), for a handful of years in the late ’80s I was known as The Big Cheese. When I told park peers that I’d formerly served as editor of Pizza Today magazine, I’m not sure they believed me. They’d give me that side-eye thing. With a grin and a shrug, I’d make a mental note to bring an issue in someday as proof. Like this one:…