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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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All Souls Day
‘All Souls Day in Cellophane’

‘All Souls Day in Cellophane’

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Growing up as a Catholic kid, it was confusing. Probably exacerbated by the sugar hangover from Halloween. The Sisters at Sacred Heart School would test us: What. Comes. Next? Well, there was All Saints Day and All Souls Day, but in what order? (I got crafty one year and noticed they were alphabetical.) Good heavens, no wonder we were confused. Here’s what Wikipedia says: All Saints’ Day, also known as All Hallows’ Day, the Feast of All Saints, the Feast of All Hallows, the Solemnity of All…

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1920 Jean & Rose Anna Plante family
A la douce memoire

A la douce memoire

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The prayer card handed out at Rose Anna Gilbert Plante’s funeral was in French. Even though she lived all but 14 years of her long life in Lewiston, Maine, Rose Anna still listed French as her spoken language on the census form every ten years. “A la douce memoire de …” means “To the sweet memory of …” Rose Anna lived to be 87. She outlived her “epouse,” Jean Vincent Plante by 29 years. (Jean was a brother to my…

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Mom with future inlaws
A father’s letter

A father’s letter

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It’s been a weekend of sneezing and itching, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Treasures from the past are stored in attics. And attics get dusty. One document in particular is from 1952 and speaks for itself. Dad kept it preserved all these years in a small cedar box. A letter from his father. Mom and Dad met in 1943. Within a year, they promised to marry someday. They were just 14 at the time. Nine years later,…

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Mockingbird cover
Listen to the mockingbird

Listen to the mockingbird

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As August’s reading comes to an end, I managed to squeeze in a fifth book. Kinda wish I hadn’t, though. Week 1: The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene If memory serves, this title provided my introduction to Graham Greene back in high school. It was summer and Mom handed me a book from her vast collection. High school was a very long time ago, so this re-read was a comfortable one. I didn’t remember a thing, other than…

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Dream Street is a great book to read during the dog days of summer
Dog days of reading

Dog days of reading

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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…

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Alice in Wonderland
The wonderland of books

The wonderland of books

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A busy month, with our trip to Connecticut to clear out Mom & Dad’s house, but books managed to wave their pages as me, seeking to soothe my sore muscles and aching heart with an escape to wonderland. A side note: Farmer Gary puts me to shame when it comes to level of voracious reading. While in Connecticut, he kept a pile of newspaper circulars to read when he had a few minutes. We’d canceled Dad‘s newspaper and magazine subscriptions,…

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Harold E. Vayo, typing while an English major at Providence College.
Class oration 1951

Class oration 1951

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It’s amazing how the memory works. While putting together a post last week about my brother Dave’s high school valedictorian address, a vague memory surfaced that our dad was valedictorian of his college class. On a lark, I looked up the contact information for the alumni-relations department at Providence College. After pausing to appreciate their punny slogan, Ease on Down the Rhode, I sent an email asking if they might have information regarding Graduation 1951. My somewhat hazy recollection is…

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Sister Sylvia Gehlhausen
The Minister of Hospitality

The Minister of Hospitality

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To know her was to love her. Sister Sylvia reminded me so much of my dear great-aunt Sr. Amabilis. It was uncanny. Both teachers, deeply religious, tiny, and loads of fun. I met Sister Sylvia about 30 years ago at a tourism meeting. She was smart, kind, and sort of sassy. Her home was on the hill in Ferdinand, at the Monastery Immaculate Conception. She was their Minister of Hospitality. A few years later, we built a big new roller…

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Cardinal outside my window
The first date

The first date

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Collaborating with Dad on this blog’s stories has been a joy. He got such a charge when a photo or old news article tickled his memory. And he loved talking about Mom, his Joanie. Our final effort together was “The Maine Man,” with that surprise ending in which Dad suddenly remembered a car ride with his grandparents back in 1935 or so. In our daily phone chats, there was never a pen and pad out of reach. Jotted notes would…

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