Middle brother Dave recently came across a batch of photos he took long ago. I asked him if he’d like to put together a blog post about them; happily, he said yes. Here is his story: The Brownie camera, an inexpensive point-and-shoot, democratized photography in the mid-century USA. Mom and Dad gave me my Brownie Fiesta on either Christmas 1965 or my ninth birthday the following March. These photos all date from 1966 and are of places in and around…
Our siblings and cousins are checking in this afternoon, asking each other how the blizzard is treating them. Here in southern Indiana, we did not have snow in the forecast. Yet, yesterday and today, a few flakes managed to blow around. Very few. Connecticut and New York are getting hit hard, with heavy snow and high winds. True to form, Harry’s wife, Linda, good-naturedly grumbled about only getting a few inches in Maine. This doesn’t exactly meet the “historic proportions”…
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…
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…
This clock is not an unusual one. Or is it? I remember it sitting on a shelf along with books in my parents’ library. Mom and Dad both passed away in that room, which seemed fitting, given their love of words, books, poetry, and plays. It’s a pretty clock. An anniversary clock. I assumed it was a family heirloom, thinking it was from Mom’s aunt May’s home. But no one else remembers that. At first, the clock made its new…
The little red diary from my moving-away party in June 1970 is only two-thirds complete. Our family was getting ready to move from Pittsfield, Mass., to Fairfield, Conn., that summer. That diary gave me – a 12-year-old middle child – a place to be excited as well as miserable. Fifty-four years later (ack!), the diary is sitting on a shelf here in our home. I’ve been tempted to pitch it for years. Last night, I decided to take a look…
Mom was an apron wearer. She wasn’t a messy cook. Not at all. The wearing of the apron may have come to pass due to a combination of tradition and an attempt at preserving her clothes from showing wear as she leaned against the edges of kitchen counters and tables. I think she also liked finding interesting designs and patterns. Mom had a Christmas apron or two, plus at least one apron to represent each season of the year. Apparently,…
It was close to midnight the other evening when I heard it. A train whistle. In the far-off distance. I love the sound of a train, especially at night. It’s so comforting. I asked my musical brother Dave if he knew exactly what chord the whistle plays. Here’s his reply: I’ve heard a lot of different chords from train whistles, but my favorite (which I’ve heard quite a bit) is a major chord with an added 6th, like F-A-C-D. The add-6 chord…
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…
Exactly two years ago, almost to the minute, Farmer Gary and I were in the process of clearing out Mom and Dad’s house in Madison, Connecticut. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say the challenge of dividing up belongings among the siblings, the grandchildren, and friends was just the beginning. Some items were donated, others given to friends of friends. But the house still wasn’t empty. And we were running out of time. My cousin Suzanne lives not…