In amongst a stack of college papers from Mom‘s years as an English major (1948 – 1952), I came across this four-page typed work of fiction. There’s no date on it, but surely it’s safe to say it’s about 75 years old. The Winter Wood Prologue On May 18 he thought he was dead and lying under the sea. His head rested flat like a pale rock against the bottom, and through his arms and legs gushed the gray water…
We moved around a lot when I was a kid, so I never got attached to any particular home or community. Not attached enough, anyway, to consider any of the houses a homestead. In these past several years as I’ve sifted through generations of family photos, I’ve seen my maternal grandmother’s handwriting referring to her parents’ New Haven house as a homestead. That was technically correct, as the Lombard Street property included a house, a barn, and (if memory serves)…
There is something about the English language that is so delightful, yet infuriating. In particular, I mean the sometimes opposite definitions we Americans place on a British word. (One example, which I won’t detail completely, involved me complimenting a TV producer’s fanny pack. Well, she and the executive producer were fresh off the plane from England. They enjoyed a fine giggle at my stunned expense.) Here’s another example: Scheme. Scheme is a perfectly fine word in England, and presumably the…
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…
Although I rarely try to theme each month’s book choices, in January it seems each told the story of transformative life changes, whether in war, living on the land, or in the aftermath of death. Book 1: One Man’s Meat by E. B. White Before E. B. White wrote Charlotte’s Web and Stuart Little, he wrote a series of columns for Harper’s Magazine. These chatty essays described his new life on a farm in Maine. Up until that point in…
Did you ever enter a contest as a kid? Long ago, many brands aimed at kids used national write-in contests to promote their products. All you needed was a boxtop or two. Plus an envelope and a stamp. A first-class stamp cost three cents back in 1940. Sometimes it was just a matter of mailing in a coupon and then watching your mailbox for a free comic book (or, if you remember Ralphie from A Christmas Story, a secret decoder…
It’s such a great feeling to think of Mom so enjoying a new (to her) author that she just had to pause her reading to write a poem in tribute to him. Paul Horgan was a Pulitzer Prize-winning author (twice; both times for history) who leaped from genre to genre. From poetry and drama to novels and historical fiction, from biographies to children’s literature. Often his work centered around southwest America. I read one of his books last month, from…
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…
As the year 2023 comes to a close in a few hours, my goal of reading at least four books per month has been reached. In fact, the total this year came to 58 books. And in case you’re wondering, I’m right on schedule with the book-by-installment reading of Bleak House. Here’s the rundown: Book 1: When the Snow Is Blue by Marguerite Dorian Must begin with a sincere thank you to grandson Cameron, who read this children’s book along…
The latest batch of memories from Mom and Dad‘s house includes an armful of folders with brochures from a series of vacations they took. Once-in-a-lifetime trips to Ireland, Nova Scotia, England, an Alaskan cruise … One destination, though, was a repeat. When youngest son Bill, a Marine, was stationed in Hawaii, they decided to visit him. For the next decade or so, they returned each winter – even after Bill had completed his time in the military. After many winters…