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1903 Lucie Plante's baptism certificate
Waltzing (’round) Mathilda

Waltzing (’round) Mathilda

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It’s only just now occurring to me that Dad‘s love of the song “Waltzing Matilda” might be because his mom’s middle name was Mathilda. He’d sing over and over: Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabongUnder the shade of a Coolibah treeAnd he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me” If you’re not familiar with Australia’s unofficial national anthem, here’s a 1962 recording by Dad’s favorite folk musician, Richard Dyer-Bennett:…

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Cassidy wedding 1929
Memories of Pop Regan

Memories of Pop Regan

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It’s been exactly 155 years since a wee fellow named Joseph Malachy Regan was born in Belfast, in what is now Northern Ireland. Although I’ve blogged about him several times already, it seems only right to let his youngest daughter, Cecelia, have her say. Grandma was crazy about her father. She was the only one of the Regan girls to marry, and he gave her away in full regalia: Thanks to my middle brother, Dave, who was working on a…

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1979 Mom at writing desk Joan Vayo
A Thanksgiving prayer

A Thanksgiving prayer

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When I first read Mom’s poem titled “Litany for a Cold Church Made Warm,” I wasn’t sure what to think. It just didn’t seem like the style of poetry she’d written as a teen and young mom. As time has passed and I’ve dug through more archives, I’ve learned her “Litany” was used in a celebration Mass on Thanksgiving 1977 at St. Thomas Aquinas Church in Indianapolis. Sadly, she wasn’t able to attend, as our family had recently moved back…

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1931 postcard message
The postcard

The postcard

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This postcard is nearly a century old. Postage was a one-cent Benjamin Franklin stamp. The cancellation mark includes not only the date, but also time of day. It was sent from Milford, Connecticut, to New Haven. A young father on religious retreat dashed off a note to his first born. The postcard was cancelled at 3:30pm on July 8, 1931. A Wednesday. On the back, Grandpa wrote this note to Mom, his toddler daughter: “Be a good girl, and be…

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2022 Shannon sunset
My father’s poem

My father’s poem

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Another sweet surprise. This time, I’ve come across a poem written by Dad. In 1943, when his family moved from Lowell, Massachusetts, to New Haven, Connecticut, Dad was placed in Mom‘s eighth-grade class at Saint Francis School. As told in greater detail in this earlier “Angels and angles” story, Dad was kicked up to ninth grade in a different school after inadvertently correcting a nun during math class. But before the transfer, Dad wrote a poem. It was included in…

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Mom & Dad, 2002 pose for 50th anniversary | Harold & Joan Vayo
‘Returning’

‘Returning’

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My middle brother, Dave, wove together this remembrance of family and friends returning to Madison a few months ago to honor Dad’s memory in a heartfelt Celebration of Life: On June 11, about 40 family members and friends gathered at my parents’ spiritual home, St. Margaret’s Catholic Church in Madison, Connecticut. Dad had passed away in April of the previous year, before the risks COVID posed had diminished significantly, and this had limited the number of people who attended his…

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coins
To coin a phrase, he’s flown the nest

To coin a phrase, he’s flown the nest

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For the last three days, the haunting melody of the Beatles’ “She’s Leaving Home” has tormented my brain. Now that I read through the lyrics, though, I realize very little applies. Our youngest isn’t running away. James is heading into his new life. Adult life. About an hour ago, Gary and I waved from our front porch (a lovely tradition from Mom’s aunt and uncle May and Pip) as James pulled out of the driveway with the last load of…

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2021 stats - top countries
The first 250

The first 250

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Farmer Gary and I have a tradition. Each evening, he asks me to look up how many readers visited this blog over the past day. It ranges greatly, depending on whether I’ve added a new post that day. Then comes the really good part. “Where are they from?” Blog analytics are fascinating. I haven’t splurged on a deep-dive system (yet), but the one I use lists readers by their nation. Gary never tires of it. Of course, the majority of…

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1940 Sr. Amabilis and the birdhouse
The birdhouse

The birdhouse

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Mom’s cousin Patty sent me a wonderful photo via email this week. The (unfortunately) undated photo shows their Aunt Marguerite (a nun my generation knew as Sister Amabilis) outside with a group of children, looking at a birdhouse. No doubt they were her students, as Sr. Amabilis taught first grade for 58 years. (That’s right – nearly six decades!) Mom adored her aunt, and wrote to her regularly. Sr. Amabilis saved the letters all those years and they were eventually…

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Harold Vayo ocean painting
The gift of our grandfather

The gift of our grandfather

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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…

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