The year was 1929. That fall, the stock market crash set off The Great Depression. Also that fall, the mothers of two cousins-to-be found out they had identical due dates: April 6, 1930. And so began The Great Competition. I’ve never thought of my mom as a competitive sort. Well, all except when it came to her poetry. The Great Competition involved Grandma Cassidy and her sister-in-law Ethel Cassidy Hungerford. Both babies would be the first born to each couple….
When you grow up in New England, you come to crave lobster. By-the-seashore lobster, that is, not the ones in a large fish tank as you enter a national restaurant chain. When Thomas was a little guy, he even included a lobster in the family crest he designed in art class. Our family Christmas tradition the past half-dozen years or so is mid-afternoon Lobster Grilled Cheese Sandwiches shipped frozen from Maine, thanks to GoldBelly.com. And so, when Gary and I…
My fondest memories of my aunt Barbara (the youngest of Dad’s three sisters) involve a hook, an ocean, and a ball of yarn. Barbara taught me to crochet back in the late 1960s. I’d learned how to knit (and purl) in Girl Scouts, but there was something about using one crochet hook (rather than two knitting needles) that appealed to me. Barb taught me how to crochet an afghan blanket. After that, a poncho. With fringe. The timing was perfect,…
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…
The usual meaning for the term “keyboard warriors” is those angry trolls who make sure social media is always stirred up with arguments and untruths. For our purposes, though – and during Teach Music Week – we’ll look at the keyboards that tie our family together. Piano keyboards. Dad remembers taking piano lessons when his family lived in Lowell in the early 1940s. He was ten or 11 and would walk just a few blocks to get to Mrs. Salmonson’s…
Does anyone still watch for “the first robin of spring”? That was a game, of sorts, growing up in western Massachusetts. Winters were so long that even a whisper of spring gave us a real lift. Sidenote: I fondly remember the annual family activity of clearing the driveway of the half-foot or so of packed snow and ice. It was genuinely fun chipping away the giant chunks during the February thaw and again in the spring. The only other chilly…
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…
With all the talk of viruses in the news lately (and a century ago), I think back to the comfort, warmth, and healing provided for many years by the cherry spread. Mom only used the cherry spread when we were ill. The cherry spread plus slowly-sipped ginger ale took care of any number of tummy aches and “bugs.” (To this day, ginger ale tastes like medicine to me.) In many hours of digging, I’ve only found one photo that includes…
There are 29 days in February this year. It is nice to have an extra day to read. Especially since we have gallons of new books. My parents planned last fall to move their bedroom from upstairs to downstairs, into what was then the library. In doing so, they needed a new home for their impressive book collection. Dad says Gary and I were the natural choice, since we have room at our house. I thought it was because I…
All my life, Dad has talked about what a scamp he was as a kid. Yet, there were no stories to back up his claim. Was this silence on his part due to not wanting to set a bad examples for his four children? Perhaps. It’s only now that the confessions are spilling forth. As his confessor, I am impressed, but not yet mortified. Here’s a story: Times have changed over the generations, thank heavens. Back in the 1930s, Catholics…