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…
I kid you not: a big star once invited my Grandpa Cassidy to go on the road with him. And not as a security officer – as a tap dancer! Mom’s sister, Bunny, just shared this story with us last week, when Gary and I were visiting Dad in Connecticut. Poor thing, I think I asked her to repeat the story three times – I just couldn’t believe it! Grandpa was a “cop on the beat” in New Haven, Connecticut….
Today is World Read Aloud Day. Reading out loud is a tradition in my family. Growing up, Mom read to us every night. As I got older, I read to her as she ironed Dad’s shirts and other wrinkly items before the age of wash-and-wear cotton blends. Together, Mom and I enjoyed The Borrowers, The Secret Garden, and so many other classics. And so, when James was in third grade and his teacher started reading one chapter of The Tale…
A week before Mom’s passing, I asked her about what is perhaps my favorite poem, “The King My Father.” At that point, her ability to speak had lessened greatly. Parkinson’s had cruelly robbed her of simple conversation. She regressed from struggling to remember a specific word to the point that she’d start a sentence but would stop after two or three words. And so when I asked her for the backstory about her poem “The King My Father,” my own…
One of the hardest parts about living in Indiana is being so far away from the ocean. Growing up, we vacationed in Ogunquit, Maine, and in earlier years, Leetes Island, Connecticut. Both spots were within walking distance to the beach. It was glorious! But we waved goodbye to all of that when we moved to Indiana in 1973. My parents relocated to Connecticut four years later and eventually retired there, but I stayed put. As our sons grew up here…
A number of years ago, Gary and I were in Amish Country in Daviess County, Indiana. We strolled over to a nearby flea market (more to walk off the good meal we’d just enjoyed, frankly, than any desire to shop). We wandered by several rows of tables in the open-air market. After a few minutes, I noticed Gary was no longer by my side. He motioned me over, back to a table I’d hurried past. Gary pointed sadly toward several…
There is something so peaceful about watching the snow fall gently on a Christmas evening. But since today’s high temperature was 67, there’s no chance of yuletide snow-peeping this year. Instead, Gary, James, and I sat on the back deck and gathered around the fire pit, transfixed by the flames. We roasted hot dogs. We dined on fancier food earlier, and by nightfall a hot dog with relish and mustard just hit the spot. We even FaceTimed to Connecticut for…
Setting #1: Ferdinand, Indiana The phone call came late Sunday night. It was the call I’d dreaded, but knew I had to answer. “Mom died peacefully about a half hour ago, with Dad holding her hand.” Bill, my baby brother, the Marine, the caregiver, was gentle but straightforward as always. We spent the next few days making travel plans for her funeral and scanning countless photos of Mom from her 89 years. Bill’s wife, Barbara – a graphic artist –…
November was a time of sorrow and remembrance, as Mom left this life. Something tells me, though, that there are a lot of books in heaven. That’s a comforting thought. Mom’s legacy includes a love of reading passed on to her children, grandchildren, and beyond. I asked my brothers to help with this blog post and send some thoughts about how mom influenced their love of books. Here are their stories (presented in alphabetical order by the sibling’s name): Bill,…
You know what, Mom? You’ve got grit. The silence over the phone led me to quickly guess that no one had ever said this to her before. All her life she’d been the sweet, kind poet. Generous, quick with a smile and a hug. Gentle voiced. All her life, she’d also battled depression, anxiety, and an unhealthy dose of Irish-Catholic guilt. Yet somehow she prevailed. You never give up, Mom. No matter what the situation, you dig down within yourself…