As you may have noticed from my monthly list of just-read books, I’m a sincere fan of memoirs. This interest extends to radio interviews and podcasts, as well. I think I get this love from Mom. Back in the ’70s when she had a houseful of kids, Mom would drag a portable radio with her from room to room as she dusted, changed the sheets, and vacuumed. She would catch fascinating radio interviews with musicians, actors, writers, and history makers….
Remember when Bill Clinton was running for president and this picture went public of him as a teenager, shaking hands with President John Kennedy? Well, that was during an annual event called Boys Nation. It was (and still is) sponsored by the American Legion. My dad attended the very first gathering back in August of 1946. Dad also shook the president’s hand, as is tradition during the week-long convention for future leaders from every state. Only his presidential handshake was…
My parents are nature lovers. (For a reason I don’t recall, this moniker was often pronounced “nay-CHOO love-OOS” over the years.) My two older brothers even went to “nature camp” back in grade school. Indeed, they each won a free week at Nature Camp for scoring highly on tests given following Saturday morning nay-choo films at the local museum in Pittsfield. I went just once. Sacrificing Saturday morning cartoons for a chance at nature camp just wasn’t worth it to…
Nearly four decades ago – on August 7, 1982 – Gary and I got married. We’d met 18 months prior. I was a reporter, he was a local farmer fighting the federal government to save his land. My first words to my future husband: What the hell’s a watershed? Gary’s animated response won me over, and I’ve never tired of his stories in all these years. We met in February of 1981. Gary popped the question in December. We planned…
Carefully sorting through the precious photos from Mom and Dad’s past, I’ve come across a stack of tiny prints from 1953. Dad confirms that they were photos Mom sent to him while he was serving in the Army overseas. They are nothing short of charming, as Mom added a tiny note to each. Dad brought them home from Korea and saved them all these years. The newlyweds must have missed each other desperately. There was no Internet or mobile-phone service…
So where did Dad fit in with yesterday’s post about 8th grade graduation? He and Mom were both born in 1930 (his birthday is May 28, so he’s slightly younger). He should have been in that photo, too, right? One would think … Dad’s family moved from Lowell, Massachusetts, to New Haven in 1943. They moved in right across the street from the Cassidys on Chatham Street. The Vayos at number 32 and the Cassidys at 33. Dad started out…
Nowadays, there are graduation ceremonies to celebrate moving on from nearly every grade and every activity. It used to annoy me until I realized the end result could be a photo like this one: Back in my parents’ day, though, it took many years of study to achieve a graduation ceremony. At St. Francis School in New Haven, Connecticut, there was even a group portrait taken when the class passed out of 8th grade. There’s Mom – Joan Cassidy- in…
My mom and her sister, Bunny, are what sisters ought to be. To this day, they stay in touch regularly and visit when they can. Mom was born April 6, 1930 and christened Joan Virginia Cassidy. Her sister, whom we’ve always called Bunny, arrived a few years later, on January 17, 1933. Cecelia Frances Cassidy was her given name; first name for her mother and middle name for her dad. The good Lord gifted both sisters with red hair. ‘Twas…
There’s something about the 25th of each month. Ever since I was a kid, something clicked in my brain: Christmas is coming! And today is Christmas in July. Gary and I packed light for our visit to Connecticut last week, knowing that we’d have plenty of extra stuff to bring back for use in the Too Much Brudders blog. Indeed, Dad had assembled a pile of photos and family keepsakes dating back 100 years. One of the first photographs to…
As a child of the ’60s, my introduction to robots was the limb-flailing “Danger, Will Robinson!” creation of the TV show Lost in Space. I wanted one. Flash forward to 2019, and I keep that nosy Siri turned off, don’t want a Roomba sweeping my floors, and somehow manage to type my own texts. So imagine my horror when Gary and I came across this creature, stalking us during our recent visit to Connecticut. We were in the Stop &…