As miserable a job as it was to clear out Mom and Dad’s house back in June, sweet treasures from the past continue to surface. Among them, a cassette tape labeled “Dad playing at Ellen’s Christmas party.” Who’s Ellen? She was Dad’s sister Jean’s husband John’s sister (got that?). Ellen Cull, a teacher, lived in Lowell, Massachusetts. “Dad,” in this case, was Grandpa Vayo. It took me until Thanksgiving to have the courage to listen to the tape, fearing it…
Back in his college days, Dad was an editor of The Alembic student literary magazine at Providence College. In his senior year, as editor-in-chief, he wrote the occasional opinion piece. It’s been so interesting to read what he and the other editors thought about back then, 70 years ago. The following is from January 1951, a big year for the fledgling television industry. Along with advances in technology, shows such as the Hallmark Hall of Fame, Dragnet, and I Love…
November’s books take us on a river, to the Old West, to a deserted island, to London, and more. Week 1: Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome This delightfully humorous book seems surprisingly modern, considering it was published in 1889. As the title indicates, three young men decide a two-week boat trip up the Thames River is just what they need to get rid of their aches and pains. They pilot their own boat, they camp, they…
Is there a term for a grandma who buys her LEGO-crazed grandson a set that she fully intends to keep, once built? (He will, of course, be welcome to visit it any time he likes.) I sprung the challenge on Cameron during our Thanksgiving get-together on Saturday. His response was almost poetic: Goose! If you buy it, I’ll build it! Within minutes, our Master Builder was hard at work, with his trusty sidekick, Papaw, at the ready. (Farmer Gary has…
Another mystery. This time, contained in a letter. As I’ve shuffled through hundreds of letters saved from the late 1940s and early ’50s, I’ve noticed Dad calls Grandma Cassidy (his mother-in-law) “Joe.” Thing is, her name wasn’t Josephine. It was Cecelia. Cecelia Margaret Regan Cassidy. And when she wrote to Dad, she signed the letters “Joe.” I wonder why … … maybe she worried that the other soldiers stationed in Korea might take a peek at one of the letters…
The year 1953 was a tough one for Mom. She was a newlywed, but her dear Hap was overseas, serving in the Army during the Korean Conflict. In one of her daily letters to Dad, she proclaimed, “After you get home, I don’t ever want to see a stamp again!” Of course, anyone who knew her is chuckling right now; Mom was a true and faithful letter-writer. She stayed in touch. So imagine her heartbreak when one of her favorite…
Growing up as a Catholic kid, it was confusing. Probably exacerbated by the sugar hangover from Halloween. The Sisters at Sacred Heart School would test us: What. Comes. Next? Well, there was All Saints Day and All Souls Day, but in what order? (I got crafty one year and noticed they were alphabetical.) Good heavens, no wonder we were confused. Here’s what Wikipedia says: All Saints’ Day, also known as All Hallows’ Day, the Feast of All Saints, the Feast of All Hallows, the Solemnity of All…
From the fictionalized horror of Ray Bradbury to an Agatha Christie crime novel, to the unforgettable history of a Holocaust survivor, this was a month full of unsettling stories. Week 1: Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton One word: Bleak. This classic New England tale details a life in which hope is just a waste of time. Revisiting Ethan Frome turned into a match of memories, as both Gary and I read it as high-school class assignments long ago. I remembered…
The prayer card handed out at Rose Anna Gilbert Plante’s funeral was in French. Even though she lived all but 14 years of her long life in Lewiston, Maine, Rose Anna still listed French as her spoken language on the census form every ten years. “A la douce memoire de …” means “To the sweet memory of …” Rose Anna lived to be 87. She outlived her “epouse,” Jean Vincent Plante by 29 years. (Jean was a brother to my…
Among the many trunks and boxes of Mom’s poetry, prose, and other papers, a Halloween story surfaced this week. The one-page spooky story looks to be a theme paper written for a high school class. Young Joan Cassidy typed it carefully; she was a student of New Haven’s St. Mary’s Academy. Associates in Magic My buck-toothed product of the harvest grinned maliciously in the kitchen window. His crooked nose and glaring eyes made him appear utterly ridiculous. I attempted futilely…