Do teachers still send home a “reading list” with students over their summer break? I seem to remember a few lists coming home in the boys’ backpacks over the years, but never one as intimidating as this. Mom was an incoming freshman at Saint Joseph College the fall of 1948. As an English major, she was expected to read a lot. She wrote to her future husband (she and Dad had dated since they met at age 14 and were…
When your dad asks for face masks for his 90th birthday, that says it all. Since 1930, my father lived through the Depression and World War II. He served in Korea. He married his high school sweetheart, had four kids together, and learned how tough it is to say goodbye when Mom passed away six months ago. Gary and I had planned a week-long visit to celebrate Dad’s birthday, but the Coronavirus put an end to travel. It was still…
My paternal grandfather played piano by ear. He also played guitar. Incredibly, he had a Martin guitar from the 1870s. My brother Bill “found” the guitar in a coat closet the last time he visited our grandparents in Lowell. (Grandpa Vayo passed away in 1993; Grandma two years later.) Bill’s daughter, Lucy, wrote a school paper about the guitar a few years ago, when she was a junior in high school. She’s a freshman at the Fashion Institute of Technology…
Bill’s wife, Barbara, whipped up another batch of comfort food over the weekend. She made several loaves of Cranberry Nut Bread, using Mom’s tried-and-true recipe. Bill brought a loaf with him to this week’s visit with Dad. They chuckled about a favorite Bob & Ray comedy routine that involved a “fast-breaking news” interview with The Cranberry Man: Mom and Dad loved Bob & Ray, and delighted in all the ridiculous characters and parodies they developed over the years. My parents…
My younger brother, Bill, has a knack for making friends with some unusual characters. Take Rodger McFarlane, for example. You may know him as Tommy Boatwright from Larry Kramer’s seminal work, The Normal Heart (Jim Parsons played him in the Broadway revival and HBO movie). I know Rodger from a different genre. He authored an important book. Bill sent a copy of Rodger’s book to Gary and me in 2004, when Gary’s mom was dying of cancer. She had told…
Dad stopped in his tracks, inhaled deeply, smiled, and declared: It smells like Mom! No, I didn’t sneak a spritz from the perfume bottle that still sits on her dresser. And I didn’t raid their bathroom cabinet for shampoo or lotion. Even better. Gary and I had a pot roast simmering in the slow cooker. I wish I’d taken a photo of the finished product. But then again, pot roast is not known for its photogenic qualities. Sidenote: If you…