Dear Dad – My brothers and I decided to capture a list of some of the quirky, memorable, and downright goofy Dad-isms you treated us to over the years. Dad, you may not have often regaled us with what are now called Dad Jokes (and for that we are grateful!), but you nevertheless kept us entertained. This collection of Dad-isms fell naturally into the following five themes: Music to our ears Hippie Music! As rock and roll music took over…
I wish I could remember who pointed this out years ago, but I think it was one of these ladies: This photo takes me back to the summer after my folks moved to Fairfield for the second time. It was following my sophomore year at IU, and I’d invited several high-school friends (from our first round in Fairfield) over for lunch. One of them noticed a certain lamp. “Isn’t that the lamp from the Dick Van Dyke Show?” What?! To…
Does anyone else feel conflicted about blueberries? They’ve rolled in and out of my life over the years, with mixed reviews. Let’s start with 1961. Apparently I just loved a bowl of fresh blueberries and cream. Mom even wrote a poem about it: For Paula, Who Is Three Tomorrow (I won’t be able to do it then) Who likes blueberries, blueberries, blueberries …all of the children in our house. For we have small and padded bearswho sit on small and…
Last fall’s post about Sister Amabilis is by far the most-read story on this family blog. Hundreds of her first-grade students – now grown with children and even grandchildren of their own – fondly remember that tiny nun with the huge heart. Thank you to all who shared memories here or on Facebook. As we continue to sort through a mountain of family archives, delightful surprises about my mom’s aunt keep popping up. Easter eggs, if you will. Let’s start…
My fondest memories of my aunt Barbara (the youngest of Dad’s three sisters) involve a hook, an ocean, and a ball of yarn. Barbara taught me to crochet back in the late 1960s. I’d learned how to knit (and purl) in Girl Scouts, but there was something about using one crochet hook (rather than two knitting needles) that appealed to me. Barb taught me how to crochet an afghan blanket. After that, a poncho. With fringe. The timing was perfect,…
The usual meaning for the term “keyboard warriors” is those angry trolls who make sure social media is always stirred up with arguments and untruths. For our purposes, though – and during Teach Music Week – we’ll look at the keyboards that tie our family together. Piano keyboards. Dad remembers taking piano lessons when his family lived in Lowell in the early 1940s. He was ten or 11 and would walk just a few blocks to get to Mrs. Salmonson’s…
Today is Grandma Cassidy‘s birthday. And it’s Poetry Day. Born in 1903, Grandma wouldn’t have permitted us to calculate her age, had the luck of the Irish kept her with us all these years. Saints preserve us! Me sainted Grandmother has made her home in heaven since 1991. I was “great with child” at the time, with middle-son John on the way and couldn’t travel to attend her funeral in New Haven. I’ve always believed her blithe spirit lives on…
Fact: Baby Boomers were born between 1946 and 1964. To make it easier to remember, the Boomers time frame basically started with the post-war “boom” (which had nothing to do with the Manhattan Project) and ended with the launch of Beatlemania (I made that last part up). So, yes, I’m a Boomer. We ate very differently back then. We nearly always dined at home. Slowly, as the ’60s progressed, stay-at-home moms discovered simpler recipes to make than what their mothers…
With all the talk of viruses in the news lately (and a century ago), I think back to the comfort, warmth, and healing provided for many years by the cherry spread. Mom only used the cherry spread when we were ill. The cherry spread plus slowly-sipped ginger ale took care of any number of tummy aches and “bugs.” (To this day, ginger ale tastes like medicine to me.) In many hours of digging, I’ve only found one photo that includes…
She was regal. She dripped with jewels. Her royal standing knew no equal. And she was purple. I don’t know why, but memories of Madam Queen came rushing back yesterday. And not just my affection for the oversized purple plush kitty cat, but how I got her. Madam Queen, or Maddy if you knew her well, was a gift. Not a birthday present, not a Christmas package, one of those “just because” gifts. Grandma Cassidy came to visit shortly after…