Each month as I sit down to write about the books I’ve read, I look for a theme. It’s never planned out ahead of time, but sometimes a theme does emerge. This time, it’s stories about the post-war era. Not all of them, but five (if you count The Longest Day) out of six is a theme, right? Book 1: The Diary That Changed the World by Otto Frank Over the years, I’ve read plenty of good books about Anne…
I heard from Mom’s cousin Patty this week. She lives in New Hampshire and emailed that they were under a weather alert to watch for tornados. Tornadoes in New England. Crazy stuff! Here in southern Indiana, we had some wicked thunderstorms a few days later. It’s been very hot and those pop-up storms came and went all night. “That Mother Nature – she’s sure in a mood!” I might have said to Farmer Gary more than once. As a Tiller…
The little red diary from my moving-away party in June 1970 is only two-thirds complete. Our family was getting ready to move from Pittsfield, Mass., to Fairfield, Conn., that summer. That diary gave me – a 12-year-old middle child – a place to be excited as well as miserable. Fifty-four years later (ack!), the diary is sitting on a shelf here in our home. I’ve been tempted to pitch it for years. Last night, I decided to take a look…
I’ve been thinking a lot about Mom and Dad these past several days, knowing they were just 14 years old when D-Day occurred on June 6, 1944. The 80th anniversary of D-Day commemoration brought tears to my eyes, watching news coverage of the war veterans – some of whom had stormed the beaches of Normandy – honored and paying tribute to those who filled the cemeteries after the horrific battles. While reading The Longest Day by Cornelius Ryan over the…
This is a real head-scratcher. Whose ring was this? The story starts back in the 1960s. I remember Mom coming into my bedroom and giving me a little white plastic box. She told me it was Grandpa Vayo‘s childhood ring and that he wanted me to have it. It was a beautiful ring. Although I treasured it, I don’t think I ever wore it. Fear of losing a family heirloom was high up on the list, plus the worry that…
Confession: If you’ve followed these blog posts through the years, you may remember that 14 months ago I started reading Charles Dickens’ Bleak House following the author’s original monthly-installment schedule from 1852-3. His novels didn’t get released as a complete volume until after his readers had endured many months of three- or four-chapter installments trickling to them in magazine form. As much as the concept of following the original schedule, and stretching out Bleak House over 20 months appealed to…
“You’ll never guess what I found today!” It was the winter of 2021, when Dad spent nearly every afternoon going through the boxes in the attic. Mom had been gone a bit more than a year, and he felt it was time to see what they’d saved over their lifetime, both together and even before they met. “My baby book!” I had to laugh at the thought of it. He promised to tuck it away for me to see during…
This morning, between rowdy thunderstorms, I heard an odd sound. Gary and I were sitting together in our sunroom, gazing into our backyard, which – after all the recent rain – looks like a jungle. The noise was pitched high enough that Gary couldn’t hear it. Years of high-frequency milking machines will do that to you. It almost sounded like an alarm: two tones in fairly rapid succession and then silence. By late afternoon, I’d forgotten all about it. Then…
About halfway through April’s books, it struck me that nearly all the main characters had the same problem: they lacked impulse control. Book 1: The Moon’s a Balloon by David Niven This memoir is an absolute trip. David Niven found success in spite of himself. Over and over again, his unfiltered mouth got him in trouble. From boarding school to the military. From the stage to screen. Story after story revealed Niven’s severe lack of impulse control. All the same,…
I can’t help but wonder what life would have been like if social media was in full force back in the 1960s. More specifically, if The Beatles could have used the internet as they released each new album. Just the thought gives me a bit of a shiver … But that was then and this is now. And every time I hear or see the name of Taylor Swift’s new album: The Tortured Poets Department, I think about my poet…