‘The Man Who Kept Watch Over Pumpkins’

‘The Man Who Kept Watch Over Pumpkins’

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…

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The Royal Dublin Fusilier

The Royal Dublin Fusilier

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…

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‘Roots’

‘Roots’

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…

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Love & blessings, Madeleine L’Engle

Love & blessings, Madeleine L’Engle

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…

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The outlaw

The outlaw

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…

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Gone missing

Gone missing

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…

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A month of Misery

A month of Misery

After A Month of Reading Rot in August, it seemed only natural to move on to “A Month of Misery” in September. Seven books this month, but don’t worry, not all were miserable. I’ll let you know this up front: got my jabs yesterday and so we’ll make this quick. (This is definitely the easiest time I’ve had following Covid and flu vaccines, but there is still a tad bit of … misery.) Book 1: The Sun Also Rises by…

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‘Turning Pages’

‘Turning Pages’

We haven’t had a poem from Mom in far too long! Here’s one from 1999: Turning Pages What is the driver turning toparked with his back to the sea I have been singing and turning pagesof the Christmas carols our son played for the family Before we left to sing in Indianawe met a man on Meigs Point herea former soldier carrying his coffeetelling about his happy lifehis Christmas shopping during this vacationhe had turned a page Below Meigs Point…

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Death aboard the steamer Katahdin

Death aboard the steamer Katahdin

This one’s a bit of a shocker. Earlier this week, we learned about Vedal Pooler, victim of political violence in 1904. Today’s story is about his grandfather, also named Vedal Pooler (with the same multiple variations of name spellings I griped about before). This Vedal is my great-great-great grandfather. He is Dad‘s grandmother Alice Pooler Vayo’s grandfather. He was born in Canada in 1828, give or take. Vedal immigrated to Maine with his wife, Angelina. First, they lived in the…

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1904: Political violence

1904: Political violence

It always shocks me to come upon a family story that follows our current news cycle. Maybe it shouldn’t. It’s taken me a few weeks to piece this together – and there are still some lingering questions. But here is the story of Vetal Pooler, Jr. First of all, let me share that I’ve learned from several genealogists’ tutorials recently that the spelling of names didn’t really matter until the 1930s. Shocking, I know! That knowledge, though, helps in the…

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