Have you been following the rediscovery of our Kelly family roots in County Antrim, Northern Ireland? It started with a visit Mom‘s cousin Betsy made to their grandmother’s Irish homestead in 1958. She kept good notes, some of which I used in this story about the Kelly clan. The twist to the tale was Dad’s father painted a portrait of the cottage in 1972. He used a photo from that trip. I always loved that painting, knowing it married Dad’s…
She started at midnight one night 50 years ago. A twig poem. Two days later, Mom finished her series of twigs: Is “twig” a type of poem, just three or four lines long? I’ve looked online (deliberately ignoring that pesky AI) but haven’t found a twig genre. Sonnets and limericks and haiku, but not a mention of twigs. If anyone knows, please post a comment to educate me. Oh, and include which of Mom’s twigs is your favorite and I’ll…
Couldn’t resist using the archaic spelling of demon. My copy of Frankenstein used “daemon” and so shall I. October’s books were purposefully chosen with spookiness in mind. Book 1: Endless Night by Agatha Christie There’s definitely a monster in this murder mystery. Published in 1967, Endless Night took Dame Agatha only six weeks to write (usually it was twice that time or more). She was, in this case, a speed daemon. Book 2: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë This classic…
What an enchanting name: Marie Antoinette Dansereau. Dad’s great-uncle Franklin Paul Vayo married her on June 4, 1904. Now before anyone gets all silly with a “let them eat wedding cake” meme, let me point out the phrase was first quoted long before the future bride of Louis XVI had even set her dainty foot on French soil. But as long as we’re talking about eating, it feels like poetic justice that Franklin (henceforth referred to as Frank) made a…
A Hallowe’en treat from Mom, dated 1999. Best read out loud, I think: The Man Who Kept Watch Over Pumpkins He dubbed them Tweedledum and Tweedledeeand dreamed them huge as harvest moonsone he would carve into a castlethe other would be laughing Jack O’Lantern Extravaganza! he would cryinciting them to growhe knew their seed and soil were paramountwith sun and rainthey nursed inside the earthand bloomed above it Protecting them from thieves and varmintsthe old man guarded them in day…
Philip Cassidy didn’t start out as a member of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. When he volunteered to serve in The Great War, he was a member of the 16th Division Army Cyclist Corps. Surely Philip wore this badge on his uniform cap with pride: Philip Markey Cassidy was born in Dublin, Ireland, on October 12, 1895. He was the fourth of seven children born to Daniel and Mary Jane. “Markey” was Mary Jane’s maiden name. Philip’s father, Daniel, was the…
There’s something very odd about pulling up stakes and moving away. Mom had never experienced this until she and Dad married. In 1973, we moved from Fairfield, Connecticut, to Carmel, Indiana. We’d only lived in Fairfield for three years and had spent many hours tending to gardens and other landscaping, as this was a brand-new house and yard. It was so nice of our Connecticut neighbor to stay in touch, especially with the news that those stubborn blueberry plants had…
They were friends, Mom and Madeleine L’Engle. Dear friends. Sifting through the bulging folder of their correspondence, I can trace the history of their friendship. They met during the 1976 Midwest Writers Workshop, when Madeleine, author of A Wrinkle in Time, served on the conference faculty (Mom would go on to do the same a decade later). They became fast friends: She wrote, in part: I am very grateful that you were at the Writers’ Conference and that we spoke…
My latest “Your famous ancestor” listing on the Ancestry.com app nearly made me cry. Why? Because I wanted to call Dad and hear his reaction. As you may recall from The Maine man (sadly, the final story Dad and I worked on together), he reacted unexpectedly when I shared with him that his grandfather George was once accused of arson: “Oh, boy! Ever since I was I kid, I’d hoped there was a criminal somewhere in our family tree! Not…
It’s already been established that Farmer Gary and I enjoy reading obituaries together. It’s a solid way to get to know those who’ve gone before us. This morning, we found this obituary from 1916. This is Gary’s great-great grandmother (George Werne’s grandmother): Here’s the text of that first paragraph: Mrs. John Hedinger (nee Mary Druschscherer), passed quietly away at the home of her son George last Tuesday morning at 3:30 of senile debility. She was feeble for some time and…