Today is the 75th anniversary of V-E Day. That’s “Victory in Europe Day,” the day the Allies accepted Nazi Germany’s unconditional surrender in World War II. Gary’s Dad, Andrew, celebrated in Austria. A soldier there with the U.S. Army, he had to wait his turn to make it back home. There was a “point system” and as a single fellow he had fewer points than those returning to wives and children. Andrew was a long way from home, but he’d…
Did you see those book-banning fools are at it again? In Alaska, they’re quivering with fear at the thought of their young darlings reading Catch 22 or (gasp!) The Great Gatsby. As if that’s not embarrassing enough, when it’s discussed around the world – especially by the country that gave us Queen Victoria – it’s time to simply duck under the covers with a good book and read ’til it’s safe to come out again. Happily, banned books tend to…
“Goose! You know BEE-thoven?!“ Cameron was stunned that I recognized the piano piece he’d just finished. Yes, Cam. In fact it was the wedding song played when Papaw and I got married. “Goose! You and Papaw are married?!” Clearly we need to talk about the fact that Gary and I haven’t just been shacking up all these years. Cameron is our constant delight. Our joy. Looking back even further than our 1982 nuptials, I realize Beethoven’s 9th Symphony has always…
For the past decade or so, I made a point of not deleting voicemails from my mom. Knowing she wouldn’t be around forever, I wanted to have a way to still hear her voice. But last spring as I prepared to retire, I “wiped” my work phone without saving the messages. Darn it! If only I’d thought to ask any one of my sons for help, surely we could have preserved those precious files. Happily, something even better has turned…
Mom wrote this poem, called simply Cherries, when her granddaughter Lucy was just a few months old. It may be that this cute little outfit inspired her. Cherries Lucy’s little yellow dress is cherried Take her to the hammock under cherry treesand in the early evening wrap herin the childhood cherry spreadremembering another eveningwhen we rode a ferris wheelafter a day of cherry picking Grandchildren and sister loved the cherriessent for summer birthdaysand from a country marketwe wooed each otherwith…
They’re married! Saturday was a lovely day for a wedding. Since Aubrie and John’s plans for April 18 nuptials ended up as part of the coronavirus quarantine, it was somewhat … diminutive. That’s Cameron’s new word: diminutive. (I’ve since learned that it’s from a Bugs Bunny quote in the movie Space Jam. I can’t wait to tell my father; he’ll be so pleased to know another generation loves that wascally wabbit.) Rather than list what was … er, diminutized, let’s…
Here’s something I never expected to find in our family’s archives: A letter from a princess. The letter is undated, but I’d guess it was written toward the end of the 1980s. Written on the back of the folded blue stationery, it clearly states: Important. Do not throw away. I recognize that handwriting. Grandma Cassidy added the note to make sure this treasure wasn’t swept away and lost by someone with too little curiosity. The letter from the princess was…
In these endless days of Covid-19 self-isolation, it is important to find ways to smile and laugh. More than just by making fun of politicians, though; that rabbit hole seems to get stinkier by the minute. It’s still funny stuff, but definitely doesn’t lift the spirits. And so, I turn to podcasts. Here’s a new one I “discovered” a few days ago: In a nutshell (emphasis on nut), this comedic duo plays two elderly New Yorkers who are on a…
This poem’s a tough one. Mom wrote it 19 years ago, still in mourning for the loss of her brother. Ray. Sweet baby Ray. This sounds ridiculous as I type it, but we only use that brand of barbecue sauce in our home, in honor of Uncle Ray. Mom was delighted when we served it to her on pulled pork those last years before we lost her, too. Both lost to Parkinson’s Disease. Today is World Parkinson’s Day. If you’ve…
Earlier this year, while sifting through the 240 gallons of books Dad shipped our way, this one caught my eye: Petals is a work of poetry and verse compiled long ago by the Sisters of Mercy in Connecticut for their Reverend Mother. Mom’s collection of poetry books included this copy, signed by her aunt Margaret, Sister Amabilis. As I flipped through the pages, the first several poems credited to Sister Amabilis were already familiar. But toward the end of the…