Alright, so that’s not a direct quote from one of this month’s books, but it’s close. Six books this month, with so many more calling out to me from literally every room in the house. The year 2021 brought with it my first Folio Society (a British company, now employee-owned) purchases, to add to the 550 volumes we inherited from Dad and Mom. This year also included the delightful discovery of Your Brothers Bookstore, an independent shop in downtown Evansville….
On this day in the year 1993, our paternal grandfather, Harold E. Vayo Sr., was laid to rest in Saint Mary Cemetery in Tewksbury, Massachusetts. Grandpa had lived to be 94 years old. With her permission, here’s the Memorial Tribute my cousin Jean Marie (known to friends and family as “Muff”) presented during Grandpa’s funeral Mass at St. Joseph’s Lithuanian Roman Catholic Church on Rogers Street in Lowell: As we prepared for Christmas this year, God was busy preparing a…
As miserable a job as it was to clear out Mom and Dad’s house back in June, sweet treasures from the past continue to surface. Among them, a cassette tape labeled “Dad playing at Ellen’s Christmas party.” Who’s Ellen? She was Dad’s sister Jean’s husband John’s sister (got that?). Ellen Cull, a teacher, lived in Lowell, Massachusetts. “Dad,” in this case, was Grandpa Vayo. It took me until Thanksgiving to have the courage to listen to the tape, fearing it…
Is there a term for a grandma who buys her LEGO-crazed grandson a set that she fully intends to keep, once built? (He will, of course, be welcome to visit it any time he likes.) I sprung the challenge on Cameron during our Thanksgiving get-together on Saturday. His response was almost poetic: Goose! If you buy it, I’ll build it! Within minutes, our Master Builder was hard at work, with his trusty sidekick, Papaw, at the ready. (Farmer Gary has…
Most of July and a third of August are considered the “dog days” of summer. Although none of this month’s books could be called dogs, Betrayal has an unforgettable bite, while Cranford gets those Victorians’ tongues to wagging. Week 1: Betrayal by the Investigative Team of The Boston Globe This is an easy book to put off reading. But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? After watching the movie Spotlight several times, I knew it was important to read…
There’s something about May. Gentle breezes warm the air and all shades of green decorate trees, lawns, and fields. It’s no wonder Elizabethan dramatist Thomas Dekker wrote about “The Merry Month of May” in 1599. Side note: I learned from Farmer Gary the other day that the red dots in the field next to our house are Crimson Clover. From Capote to Coward, during May I tried to keep my book choices as merry as possible. Week 1: The Prime…
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…
February is a short and often gloomy month, so it felt appropriate to read Great Expectations for the first time. It’s a long coming-of-age story, full of Dickensian characters and coincidences. In the afterglow of reading a really good book, I tend to search for related podcast discussions and non-snooty book reviews. This episode of the Backlisted podcast provides a humorous yet sincere discussion of Great Expectations, Mr. Dickens, and even some sad, sad attempts at musical-theater adaptations. Meanwhile, here…
How to get into the Christmas spirit following 10 months of a pandemic threatening nearly every tradition? With Christmas books. Week 1: The Christmas Tree by Julie Salamon It had never occurred to me that it’s someone’s job to secure the “perfect” tree for Rockefeller Center each year. This is the story of that man, and his redemption as he finds both the tree and patience to wait for it as he befriends a nun who lives at the convent…
There’s so much to know about my paternal grandfather. Grandpa Vayo was a humble guy, though, so it’s taken a lot of research to piece together the story of his life. Lots of conversations with Dad, emails to my brothers, and searches on Newspapers.com. And here we are. Harold Edward Vayo was born on this day in 1899 in Brewer, Maine. His parents, George and Alice, had already lost a child to cholera. Little Gladys Alice was only 15 months…