For more than a year, I’ve wanted to post these photos. They’re a series of 8×10″ glossies, with Dad the only fellow among 14 women: Thing is, I found them after Dad passed away, so I couldn’t ask him what they were all about. The only information on the back of the photos is the photographer’s name and number. When trained as a journalist and after spending a career in public relations, one prefers not to speculate. But it’s tempting….
I have a feeling this is going to bug me every November for the rest of my days. I can’t find the recipe card Mom sent me with the simple instructions for pie crust. Forty years ago as a young bride, I asked Mom to send me some of her favorite family recipes. We talked on the phone at great length and built our list: Meatloaf, Potato Salad, Surprise Pie, Mayonnaise Cake, Banana Bread, Three-Bean Salad, and … pie crust….
I may not be using the term “spoopy” exactly right, but looking through the list of five books from October, it sort of fits. “Spoopy” originated as a typo on a dime-store Halloween decoration. It went viral online (thanks to those who love to sneer at misspellings). And now it’s part of our lexicon. It means somewhat scary, but not terrifying. Maybe even Halloween cute sometimes, but never full-out shiver-inducing spooky. Book 1: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath This…
This postcard is nearly a century old. Postage was a one-cent Benjamin Franklin stamp. The cancellation mark includes not only the date, but also time of day. It was sent from Milford, Connecticut, to New Haven. A young father on religious retreat dashed off a note to his first born. The postcard was cancelled at 3:30pm on July 8, 1931. A Wednesday. On the back, Grandpa wrote this note to Mom, his toddler daughter: “Be a good girl, and be…
Upon learning, last month, that my DNA blesses me with 17 percent Scottish heritage, it was time to do a wee bit of reading from the land of haggis and bagpipes. Book 1: The Singing Sands by Josephine Tey This was not the first – nor will it be the last – Josephine Tey mystery to grace the shelves of our Folio Society library. Discovered after Tey passed away in 1952, the manuscript was published that same year. It is…
Another sweet surprise. This time, I’ve come across a poem written by Dad. In 1943, when his family moved from Lowell, Massachusetts, to New Haven, Connecticut, Dad was placed in Mom‘s eighth-grade class at Saint Francis School. As told in greater detail in this earlier “Angels and angles” story, Dad was kicked up to ninth grade in a different school after inadvertently correcting a nun during math class. But before the transfer, Dad wrote a poem. It was included in…
A horrifying fact is that pianos aren’t worth much anymore. Used pianos, that is. If you look on any “Buy/Sell/Trade” pages these days, there’s nearly always a lovely piano or two: Free. Pick-up only. Electronic keyboards are excellent. I remember my brother Dave getting one when we were in high school. Apparently they were invented primarily for apartment-dwellers, so that pianists could play (using headphones) without disturbing the neighbors. They’re also less expensive and easier to move around. Still, it’s…
As I continue to dig through Mom’s archives, I’m finding messages from her. Hints from the past. First of all, Mom was definitely not into being called a “poetess”: This news clip is from 1976, which was smack dab in the middle of the Women’s Liberation Movement. I think, though, Mom probably claimed the title “poet” over “poetess” decades before, as far back as 1938, when she wrote her first poem. In one folder, I found a program from the…
Back to four volumes this month, my minimal commitment for retirement-era book consumption. Three of the four came from our collection of Folio Society books (which has grown past 700 titles this month, thanks to eBay). But first, a just-released heart-wrenching memoir caught my eye. The title is so disturbing I can’t even bring myself to type the words. Book 1: a memoir by Jennette McCurdy I remember so well watching iCarly on TV with James. The character of Sam,…
Since retirement three years ago, it’s been fun to dabble in genealogy on Ancestry.com. Our family tree, at this point, looks much wider than tall. Geez, there were some huge families just a few generations back! The DNA tests that Farmer Gary and I took some years ago involved spitting into small tubes and mailing them off to Ancestry. My saliva was bubbly while Gary’s was flat. (I still wonder what that means.) Every so often, Ancestry emails with the…