“Bunny, I wish you were my godmother.” I’ll never forget the look on Bunny’s face. We were standing at the bottom of the stairs in my parents’ home. It must have been around Christmas and I was home from college. Indiana to Connecticut didn’t happen too often; it was good to be around family. My Mom’s younger sister’s face brightened into a beautiful smile. She told me she’d have been glad to be my godmother. (For some reason, my parents…
Her first crossing of the Atlantic was in 1905. At that time, the RMS (Royal Mail Ship) Caronia was the largest ship in the Cunard Line fleet. Caronia’s maiden voyage departed Liverpool on February 25th of that year, destined for New York. On April 14th seven years later, Caronia transmitted the first ice warning to the Titanic, reporting “bergs, growlers and field ice.” It was more than a decade later that Irishman William John Kelly stepped onboard Caronia. Willie was…
“Did I ever tell you I’m a Colonel?” Jerry’s baritone voice boomed out the question to his unknowing victims. After maybe the third time he asked me that question, I knew to reply: Of course! You’re Colonel Sanders! Jerry’s face would break out in a huge smile and he’d move on to another topic. Probably some obscure – but fascinating – fact about Abraham Lincoln. It was the truth, the colonel thing. Jerry was named a Kentucky Colonel decades ago…
Farmer Gary‘s great-grandmothers just can’t catch a break when it comes to obituaries. First it was Mary Wigger (she of the snuffly expiration) and now it’s Mary Werne’s turn. Excuse me, but did the local paper hire Dr. Seuss to write this headline? Mary Elisabeth Hedinger Werne passed away in her sleep on July 10, 1938. And according to the newspaper, it was a “gruesome sight” to confront. According to hand-typed notes Gary’s uncle Arch left us, although Mary was…
As I sat down to write this story, it seemed fitting to tune in to one of the Irish music channels on my satellite-radio app. The first song? Molly Malone. That was one of Dad‘s favorites. When I’d gingerly play it on the piano as a kid, he’d burst in from wherever he was in the house or yard, singing: In Dublin’s fair city … Pardon me while I wipe my eyes. What have we here? Another letter to Grandma…
My brothers and I grew up watching Captain Kangaroo. Good morning, Captain! The Captain was a smiling fellow, with big pouchy pockets in his coat (hence the moniker). Every once in a while, he still shows up in social media: When I saw the “Who Wore It Better?” meme a year or so ago, I emailed my brothers to see what they recalled about The Captain. Something we all remembered was that Mom once met him. But not one of…
Do you have a favorite number? (I don’t …) Mom sure did. She loved the number four. And so when I saw this was TooMuchBrudders Blog Post Number 444, it was time to pause. Mom was born in April, the fourth month. She married Dad on the fourth of November, 1952. She had four children. For the heck of it, I looked up the number 444. According to Dictionary.com, it’s an “angel number,” with lots of positive attributes attached. Checking…
Another discovery! First it was the Bangor High School yearbook from 1917, the year leading up to Grandpa Vayo’s graduation. Here’s his senior photo along with a memorable blurb: We’ve already seen Grandpa’s high school artwork in an earlier version of The Oracle (apparently, there were monthly editions to highlight the students’ talents). In that edition, Dad’s father displayed his comic chops. In this edition, though, Grandpa appears to be tip-toeing into the water a half century before a future…
Farmer Gary and I have a twice-daily tête-à-tête in the sunroom during which time we read obituaries. It’s not my thing, but Gary is a dedicated condolences-giver. Even when it’s been a generation since the last communication, his ears will perk when I start reading the online obit: “Dad bought a calf from his grandfather once. When’s visitation?“ Recently, we added information from the Ancestry app to our routine. It provides that week’s birthdays, wedding anniversaries, and death-date memorials from…
How charming is that? Inside an Air Mail envelope, a handwritten letter. From Irish cousin to American cousin, yet with a rather formal salutation. Grandma must have loved it! Of course she did; she saved it. Then Mom saved it. And now I’ll share it: My Dear Mrs. Cassidy, You must forgive me for not answering your letters, I do trust this note will make up for my mistacks. I was sorry to hear of your mother’s death. R.I.P., too…