“I had a bad dream last night. In my dream, I hugged Sister Amabilis too tightly. I broke her.” Poor Gary. He’d just met my great aunt the day before. He was stunned by how tiny she was. As newlyweds in 1982, we made the rounds in New England to visit relatives who couldn’t make it to our wedding. It was a treat to see Sister Amabilis, who was then 87 years old. Sister Mary Amabilis Regan was first-generation American,…
Have you seen those videos on social media showing animals (both in zoos and in the wild) wolfing down pumpkins? Living on a farm, I can’t help but chuckle. The great pumpkins-are-edible discovery is akin to children realizing milk doesn’t “come from” grocery stores, but moo cows. Pumpkins, it turns out, don’t just magically transform into pies, over-salted packages of seeds, and Starbucks coffee flavorings. Livestock and wildlife figured this out long ago: Pumpkins – raw pumpkins – are delicious!…
Today is the 25th of the month. It’s Christmas in October, did you catch it? Here’s a poem (a song, actually) that Mom wrote in April of 1957. Harry was nearly two and Dave just a month old. How Mom had time to think, much less create such a sweet lullaby, is truly beyond me! The Wonderful World of Downstairs The wonderful world of downstairshas ice cream every day;The wonderful world of downstairs is where my animals play. I will…
Back in the ’60s, I was a Junior Girl Scout from the fourth to sixth grade. This was at Sacred Heart Elementary School in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. No matter what you’ve heard about Thin Mints, let me assure you that back then Scouting was all about filling up that green sash with badges. Any girl with a drop of competitiveness in her soul worked every angle to earn more badges that her sisters in green. I scoured the thick blue Girl…
On Saturday, future daughter-in-law Aubrie and I spent the afternoon together in New Harmony. Brunch at the Red Geranium, a long walk, fun conversation, gorgeous weather – it was just lovely. I could kick myself for not talking a few photos, but despite decades as a publicist, my instincts lean more toward preserving memories with words. This is the only photo I took: This book drop-off outside of the Working Men’s Institute charmed us up the stone steps and inside…
My mom loves Halloween. Pumpkins, gourds, cider, witches, black cats, and the occasional ghost, of course. She loves it all! Mom also loves children’s books. She wrote this Halloween story – featuring a witch called Grantie Grackle – back in the mid-1960s. My oldest brother, Harry, collaborated as her illustrator back when he was just 10 years old. Three decades later, Mom made copies of “The Whitewashed Ghost” and shared them with her increasing number of grandchildren. With her permission…
Although most of my career was spent at the park (with the nickname Raven Maven), for a handful of years in the late ’80s I was known as The Big Cheese. When I told park peers that I’d formerly served as editor of Pizza Today magazine, I’m not sure they believed me. They’d give me that side-eye thing. With a grin and a shrug, I’d make a mental note to bring an issue in someday as proof. Like this one:…
Remember the panic about the H1N1 flu a decade ago? There was good reason for that. The first time H1N1 struck was back in 1918. In the U.S., it was originally detected among military personnel, in the spring of that year. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimates one-third of the world’s population was infected (about 500 million) by what was then called the Spanish Flu. There were at least 50 million deaths. The death toll included Private John Henry…
It comes as no surprise that James was bound and determined to catch this year’s Louder Than Life Festival in Louisville. In spite of 2018’s exciting last-minute change of headliner to Alice in Chains, last year’s fest was nothing but a stick in the mud. Literally. Completely opposite of this fall, last September brought nearly non-stop rain. The festival was canceled, with the realization that slogging about in ankle-deep mud would destroy the beautiful outdoor venue. Poor James; his hopes…
Exploring the many branches of our family tree (another retirement project) is fascinating. Some of those limbs, though, are rather gnarly. Let’s get right to it: There was a murder in Ferdinand back in 1909. Gary‘s great-grandfather on his mom’s side, Henry Schum, was killed while trying to break up a drunken brawl. Note: I’m hoping enough time has passed that I won’t offend anyone by mentioning the coinciding murder of the English language. Coverage of the patriarch’s death unfurled…