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Tag: Dad

Angels and angles

Angels and angles

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…

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Graduation day

Graduation day

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…

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Red-haired sisters

Red-haired sisters

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…

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Christmas in July

Christmas in July

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…

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U, Robot

U, Robot

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 &…

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