I was really hoping to find out “turnabout is fair play” was coined by William Shakespeare. Alas, its earliest application may be lost to history, but Abraham Lincoln was an early user of the phrase, so we’ll keep it in play with today’s story. As you may recall, my father‘s entire life of home ownership was tortured by squirrels (see Nuts to you! from 2019). He and Mom loved to feed the birds in their many backyards, from Massachusetts to…
As 2025 ends, the books of December are a mix of fable and fact. The first – a special treat – was read to me entirely by grandson Cam. He used a variety of excellent character voices, which never failed to delight me. He’s shares his thoughts in Book 1, below. Book 1: The BFG by Roald Dahl The BFG by Roald Dahl, in my opinion, is a great book to read. The story has Sophie, the main protagonist, and…
Quite an array of topics this month. And a guest blogger: Grandson Cam writes his thoughts about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, which he read aloud to me this summer, complete with an entertainingly dramatic voice for each character. Book 1: The Fire of Liberty This may well have been my favorite book this month. Esmond Wright compiled letters and other writings primarily from 1775 and 1776 to let the soldiers and townspersons tell the story of America’s Revolutionary War….
“Oh Mom, he looks like you! Your great-grandson has your smile.” I couldn’t wait to tell Mom that baby Cameron had the same sweet smile as the one in her baby picture. I knew that portrait well. It hung in her parents’ living room for decades. It now hung in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Today, I came across this poem Mom wrote in 1996. She was just a year younger than I am now. ‘The Good Child’ She is the…
Today is April 1. Apparently there was a bit of snowfall on this day 22 years ago outside Mom’s window in Madison, Connecticut: One Flake Falling With one flake fallingthe snow begets a garden for the moon So April One once greenis slowly overlaid with whitethe pussy willows pausethe school bus hurries children home Some forty years ago I wroteof such a prank on such a dayI hear the same sky laughter nowand spot the sunshy preening for her bow…
“Cam – come here! You’ve got to see this!” Our grandson was here for an overnight and his Papaw couldn’t wait to show him the traffic jam on our road. First I must share that Farmer Gary is fascinated by the concept of gridlock. The idea that traffic could come to a complete halt because the network of roads was full absolutely blows that country boy’s mind. So when the few cars on our rural road slowed down to a…
Been thinking a lot about my ancestors this week. We are, after all, a nation of immigrants. Three generations ago, the elders were born in Ireland and Canada. Mom wrote this poem in 1972, presumably after seeing a tragic story in the news about a man without a home found frozen in the snow. The Immigrant He looked an immigrant, forever homelessin his makeshift clothes, dead in the snow for days before the photograph was taken.His life had passed to…
We’ve all heard of snow angels. Children especially create them this time of year when at least a few inches of snowfall are available. Here’s grandson Cameron in 2022. We took the easy way out and just went out on the back deck. Those snazzy mittens were courtesy his paternal grandma, Goose (me): Such a sweet tradition. A snow angel. But look again. Is that the shape of an angel in the snow … or the face of something rather…
Five books consumed this month, along with turkey, stuffing, and son John’s yummy pot roast. Thanksgiving included book shopping and book reading. Book 1: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl Grandson Cam and I read aloud a chapter or three together whenever we could these past few months. When he jumped in providing distinctive character voices for Willy Wonka and Grandpa Joe, I wanted to shout: “Theater kid! He’s a theater kid!” Well done, Cam. His thoughts: Charlie…
Today is Mom’s birthday. She was born 94 years ago, giving her mom bragging rights to winning the great competition. During her teens, Mom penned this poem. Writing in first person as an octogenarian, the lovely green-eyed redhead tried to imagine what life would be like so many years in the future: Passing Phase of an Octogenarian Today is my birthday. And when they think I do not hearThey whisper I am old. They say that I have had my…