We heard it every Sunday whenever there was a chill in the air: “Who wants a fie-oo in the fie-oo-place?” Dad loved to build a good fire, hear the crackling sound of properly dried kindling, poking the coals together in the late evening, and maybe even taking a snooze in a nearby comfy chair. It was only this week that I realized his obsession with building fires traced back to his youth. Way back Ever since posting about Dad’s college…
One of the many goofy teases Dad used when we were kids was to never remember our ages. He knew them all, of course, but would increase or lower our age to support his ruling as a parent. “Stay up to watch Star Trek? But you’re only six years old – that’s way past your bedtime!” Uh, I was eight, nine, and ten at the time the original series ran. When I got caught peaking down the stairs, my true…
To know her was to love her. Sister Sylvia reminded me so much of my dear great-aunt Sr. Amabilis. It was uncanny. Both teachers, deeply religious, tiny, and loads of fun. I met Sister Sylvia about 30 years ago at a tourism meeting. She was smart, kind, and sort of sassy. Her home was on the hill in Ferdinand, at the Monastery Immaculate Conception. She was their Minister of Hospitality. A few years later, we built a big new roller…
Collaborating with Dad on this blog’s stories has been a joy. He got such a charge when a photo or old news article tickled his memory. And he loved talking about Mom, his Joanie. Our final effort together was “The Maine Man,” with that surprise ending in which Dad suddenly remembered a car ride with his grandparents back in 1935 or so. In our daily phone chats, there was never a pen and pad out of reach. Jotted notes would…
As Valentine’s Day approached last year, Dad decided to bring back a tradition he and Mom started long ago: Mail giant chocolate hearts from Hawaii to loved ones back home. Their annual trips to The Big Island began when youngest son Bill was stationed there. My brother, the Marine: Mom and Dad liked their winter visits to Hawaii (with its depression-lifting sunshine) so much, they made it a habit. Even after Bill had long since returned to civilian life in…
It’s National Hat Day, had you heard? Feels like a good excuse to pull together photos of family members and their fancy chapeaux from over the past 100 years. This first picture is of my great-grandfather Patrick Cassidy. He was a police officer, first in Belfast and then in New Haven, Connecticut. This photo is from around 1915. Here’s one of Patrick’s sons, Christy, looking snazzy: Another of Patrick’s four sons, Frank, was also a policeman. And my grandpa. Hopping…
As odd as this year’s Christmas will be (given the pandemic), it’s not the first time history has gifted parents with holiday challenges. For example, wartime. I can only imagine how my grandparents went to extra effort to keep those Decembers jolly for their young children. In 1943, staples such as sugar, meat, and coffee could only be obtained via food ration books – and even then, only when the items were available. Even after the world war was over,…
My great-uncle Pip was an animal lover. The more I ask relatives about him, the more I learn about the animals he loved. Many dogs over the decades. But it didn’t stop there. A goat named Fanny. A horse named Spot. Sheep. Bees, even. And today is his birthday. He was the eleventh and final child born to Joe and Maggie Regan, Irish immigrants who settled in New Haven in 1888. Pip, baptized Edward Thomas Regan, was born November 17,…
Farmer Gary sets an annual goal for himself: Complete the harvest before Thanksgiving. Yesterday, he finished combining ‘beans and today he’s planting the last of the winter crops. And all without a scarecrow. I can’t help but wonder if “city folk” would even know about scarecrows were it not for The Wizard of Oz. (As an aside, it still makes me laugh to remember Harry’s high school story about sitting in a quiet classroom, taking a final exam. The silence…
The year 2020 has given us a lot to complain about. A global pandemic. Unstable economy. A contentious election. Looking back 100 years, our ancestors didn’t have it any easier. They had their own pandemic, which claimed a member of Gary’s family. And just a few years later, another massive flu outbreak that took my father’s maternal grandfather. One hundred years ago, the presidential election was between Warren G. Harding and James. M. Cox. Harding’s campaign message was a call…