Mom would be pleased that her poems – even those from long ago – are causing her children to research and reminisce. This poem was written in August of 1977 following the death of someone named Madeline. A friend? A relative? I checked first about a certain writer friend, but she spelled her name Madeleine and lived for three more decades. A search on our massive family tree on ancestry.com brought me – at last – to Madeline. Madeline Sturmer….
I’d never heard of Tollund Man until yesterday. Soul Man, yeah. Iceman, sure. Even Slender Man (thanks to Law & Order SVU). But Tollund Man? It took one of Mom’s poems to awaken my interest: Remarks upon reading a chapter on the Tollund Man, found preserved in a Danish bog in 1950 Only the head preserved in glass now, but the face tells all, or did, until the lump of peat fell from the neck, showing the rope there.Gentler than…
It’s that time of year again, as graduation ceremonies commence at schools all across the country. Back in 1975, I was a junior in high school. My middle brother, Dave, a senior, was at the top of his class. He was destined to be valedictorian. But toward the end of his senior year, there was an unexpected complication. Since we’d started high school in Connecticut and were finishing it in Indiana, a few classes didn’t match up. To be more…
“Wherever life takes you, make sure you have good neighbors.” Mom preached that to me repeatedly over my childhood years. Luckily, it was in reaction to a kindness shown by a neighbor. We did okay over the years. More than okay, actually. Mom and Dad lived in Fairfield, Connecticut, twice – with four Indiana years in between. I lived in the first house as a junior-high schooler. By the time they moved back, though, there were only two summers left…
The other day, it occurred to me that Mom lived through a lot of wars. As a child, she wrote poems about the soldiers in World War II. Her uncle Pip and other fellows from the neighborhood were called up to service. It clearly weighed heavy on her heart. She and Dad married while he was on a finally approved three-day leave. When he returned to his barracks, Dad found orders to ship out on his bunk. He was on…
Charles Dickens liked cats. In fact, the great Victorian novelist loved his cat Bob so much that when the kitty died, Dickens saved one of the paws, had it stuffed and then glued to an ivory blade, creating a memorable letter opener that is now on display in a museum. Really. In the 1960s, we weren’t a big pet family. Maybe it’s because we moved so often. Maybe it was so Mom could recover from birthing three babies in four…
Mom collected a lot more than books. She collected friends. We moved around a lot in the 1960s and ’70s, and she stayed in touch with each group of friends and neighbors. This was pre-email, of course. Dad used to tease that Mom kept the post office solvent. One friend was Newbery-winning author Madeleine L’Engle. In a future post, I’ll share some of their correspondence. In the meantime, I read L’Engle’s most famous book (finally!) this month. Week 1: A…
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…
“… and it is a longstanding tradition that the Singing Hoosiers provide the chorus for this opera.” Opera, you say? It was the fall of 1977, my sophomore year at Indiana University. Bob Stoll, the director of the Singing Hoosiers (think Glee for college students; indeed, Ryan Murphy was a Singing Hoosier) had just broken the news that that a factory girl named Carmen was in our future. Here’s Mr. Stoll (who passed away in 2020) warming us up before…
Forget for a moment that we’re just weeks away from a presidential election. Soak in this far more important news: They’ve pulled the plug on TaB! Shocking as that may seem, no doubt many of us are going all Aunt Ethel (from the classic movie and play Harvey): What? I thought they killed off that swill decades ago! Well, they should have. That stuff was nasty! Medicinal. Metallic. Sweetened with Saccharin. But back in the ’60s, it was all we…