Charles Dickens liked cats. In fact, the great Victorian novelist loved his cat Bob so much that when the kitty died, Dickens saved one of the paws, had it stuffed and then glued to an ivory blade, creating a memorable letter opener that is now on display in a museum. Really. In the 1960s, we weren’t a big pet family. Maybe it’s because we moved so often. Maybe it was so Mom could recover from birthing three babies in four…
The past three weeks have been tough, as we worried about Dad, cared for Dad, and ultimately buried Dad. One tremendous blessing was that he was able to come home from the hospital, instead of going to a short-term rehab facility. Covid would have added tremendously to our pain if we hadn’t had minute-by-minute access to our dear father. Sitting in what used to be Mom and Dad’s library (now Dad’s bedroom) and holding his hand, I glanced up and…
“We’ll be there in another week, Dad. We’ll have fresh fish every day – promise!” Oh, boy – can’t wait! Sadly, I wasn’t able to keep that promise. Gary and my long-awaited post-vaccine visit with Dad came to a tragic end. A misstep, surgery from a resulting broken hip, and a stroke ended in his death on April 13. Rest in peace, my darling Dad. Remembering Mom’s explanation of “holy laughter,” we’ll share some of the moments that made us…
“Are you saying my grandfather was an arsonist?” No, Dad, I can’t image that’s the case. But this Boston Herald article from 1896 sure seems to stir the pot … “Oh, boy! Ever since I was I kid, I’d hoped there was a criminal somewhere in our family tree! Not a murderer, of course. But maybe a stage-coach robber.” Gosh, you think you know somebody. I’d purposely held off telling Dad about the article in the Boston Herald‘s archives that…
A little red-haired boy was born in New Haven, Connecticut, in June of 1900. The turn of the century. His parents – Pat and Anna – were Irish immigrants. His father, a policeman. Little Frank Cassidy looked for ways to earn money and help out his parents. He sold lemons on street corners near his home on Lombard Street. He’d search for pieces of coal to bring home. One year, he found enough along the railroad tracks to heat their…
“Would you like to take this home? Mom kept it on her dresser.” It’s been more than a year since Dad showed me this souvenir: As I squinted to read the small print (the tiny dish measures four inches across), a familiar city name caught my eye. Pittsfield? “Her parents honeymooned there in 1929. They stayed at the Hotel Wendell. Mom was born nine months later.” And 32 years after Mom’s birth, our family moved to Pittsfield, Massachusetts. We lived…
As Valentine’s Day approached last year, Dad decided to bring back a tradition he and Mom started long ago: Mail giant chocolate hearts from Hawaii to loved ones back home. Their annual trips to The Big Island began when youngest son Bill was stationed there. My brother, the Marine: Mom and Dad liked their winter visits to Hawaii (with its depression-lifting sunshine) so much, they made it a habit. Even after Bill had long since returned to civilian life in…
Growing up, our family had a Christmas tradition of going around the dinner table and each naming our favorite gift. Not the gift of family, faith, talent, or brains. This was about what had awaited us under the tree that morning. A toy, a doll, a game. Looking back over the decades, I’d have to say my favorite unwrap-it gift involved multi-generational family members, plus talent. It was this painting: In short, this is a painting that Grandpa Vayo (Dad’s…
It’s National Hat Day, had you heard? Feels like a good excuse to pull together photos of family members and their fancy chapeaux from over the past 100 years. This first picture is of my great-grandfather Patrick Cassidy. He was a police officer, first in Belfast and then in New Haven, Connecticut. This photo is from around 1915. Here’s one of Patrick’s sons, Christy, looking snazzy: Another of Patrick’s four sons, Frank, was also a policeman. And my grandpa. Hopping…
Cameron and his great-grandfather have bonded deeply. Over Looney Tunes. During the eight years of Cameron’s life, there have been a few visits to Connecticut, some Facetime chats, and loads of phone calls. But Bugs was a game changer. In researching a bit, I’ve come to realize that Dad and Looney Tunes were born the same year (1930). It was, apparently, meant to be. Despite hours of viewing (Gary gets in on the act, too) and many discussions, it is…