Before beginning this story, I must confess to adding an “i” to the word ordnance the first several times I came upon it at my first job. Maybe no one else at the tiny rural radio statio noticed it. The news gal liked to correct typos, after all. For the record, according to Grammarly.com: An ordinance is an authoritative order or decree, often a rule established by a governmental authority or church. It typically involves legislation or regulation and has a civic…
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…
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…
Grandpa Cassidy had three sisters. Ethel Mary was two years older than he, born in 1898 in New Haven. Earlier that decade, the name Ethel was the seventh most popularly given name to baby girls. It means noble. The youngest of Ethel’s three children, Jean, wrote down the following memory: We sat on the porch on a sunny Thursday June afternoon, following the big surprise 40th Wedding Anniversary Party. It had been Anna’s idea. She said we should make hay…
It did my heart good to see that the Great Books program is still going strong. When we lived in Pittsfield, Mass., in the 1960s, Mom got involved with Great Books, attending evening group discussions about the volumes that had helped shape the Western World. According to the Great Books Foundation website: The Foundation’s stated objective is to provide the means of a genuine liberal education for all adults. By the end of the year (1949), an estimated 50,000 people…
Yesterday evening, it was time to choose which book to read next. I select at least a few fancy Folio Society volumes each month, as the collection was lovingly built by my parents. As I open each new (to me) classic, I look for hints that Mom or Dad (or both) may have read it years ago. That just makes it more special. They were both tidy souls and so there aren’t any smudges or tears. But once in a…
Postcard 1: Six decades of hedgehog love As proof that memories and assumptions can be faulty, let me confess that I’d always believed my first encounter with a hedgehog was through Mom and her love of Beatrix Potter characters. We brought those tiny story books – just the right size for a toddler’s hands – home from the library every chance we got. I was just four years old when I met a hedgehog by the name of Mrs. Tiggle-Winkle:…
This is a real head-scratcher. Whose ring was this? The story starts back in the 1960s. I remember Mom coming into my bedroom and giving me a little white plastic box. She told me it was Grandpa Vayo‘s childhood ring and that he wanted me to have it. It was a beautiful ring. Although I treasured it, I don’t think I ever wore it. Fear of losing a family heirloom was high up on the list, plus the worry that…
How far back can you remember? My earliest memories (as told here) involve brother Dave dropping eggs on the floor, and the arrival of my first feather pillow. As of a few weeks ago, I can piece together a third: My first taste of maple sugar candy. This memory’s missing piece surfaced in December, as an early gift, when I found this: Oh, boy! Dad and Mom were planning a getaway to Vermont! Back in 1961, there were no websites…