Ever since I first laid eyes on this wedding photo from 1926, I’ve wondered: Who is that second couple? A newspaper article detailing my paternal grandparents’ wedding revealed the happy couple’s attendants were Mr. & Mrs. Haag. But who were the Haags? They’re not part of our family tree, but they were there for Grandma and Grandpa on a very important day. It may well be that a newspaper ad Grandpa designed for his workplace provides an important first clue….
One hundred years ago, Grandpa Vayo was counting down the days until he married. He’d already moved to Paducah, Kentucky, and started his new job in advertising. He even authored a daily poetry column, Songs of Life, in The Paducah Sun newspaper. I wonder if he warned Grandma (his betrothed, Lucie Plante) how often her new surname would be misspelled and mispronounced. After all, “Vayo” rhymes with “mayo.” Sometimes, the condiment won out: This poem of Grandpa’s caught my eye…
Thanks to my second-cousin Mark, I just came upon a dozen or more poems Grandpa Vayo wrote shortly after he relocated to Paducah in 1926. He was the new Advertising Manager at the J.A. Rudy & Sons department store. Grandpa must have been so lonely! Paducah, Kentucky, is far away from Brewer, Maine. And this was a century ago. It was months before Grandma traveled all those miles to marry him on Thanksgiving Day. A poet, musician, and artist, Grandpa…
Right now, our “Feels Like” temperature is just two degrees short of triple digits. And it’s September! I’ve always been an indoor cat, so there’s really nothing for me to complain about, as long as the air conditioning holds out longer than this heat wave. Here’s a poem Grandpa Vayo wrote a century ago. It was published in the Paducah Sun on August 27, 1926. To me, it feels as miserable as the weather. Pessimism The still-born day breaks in…
When we moved to Indiana in 1973, I innocently believed the Ku Klux Klan was a thing of the past. That is, until a trick-or-treater arrived at our door wearing a white robe and hood. When I questioned the young boy, he replied with a racist slur. I hollered and he ran off … In college, I remember learning about the 1915 silent film The Birth of A Nation. We were taught it was a technical breakthrough, a landmark in…
Nowadays, some tuck away good ideas and clever sayings on Pinterest. Others create a Vision Board to manifest their personal future. A hundred years ago, though? My grandpa had a Clippings Book. This 6″x9″ idea keeper is a scrapbook, really. It’s fascinating to gently leaf through the brittle pages and see what was important to Grandpa as a young man. Dad’s dad (my Grandpa Vayo, see The family scholar for his story) was born in Maine in 1899. As a…
Have you been following the rediscovery of our Kelly family roots in County Antrim, Northern Ireland? It started with a visit Mom’s cousin Betsy made to their grandmother’s Irish homestead in 1958. She kept good notes, some of which I used in this story about the Kelly clan. The twist to the tale was Dad’s father painted a portrait of the cottage in 1972. He used a photo from that trip. I always loved that painting, knowing it married Dad’s…
This one’s a bit of a shocker. Earlier this week, we learned about Vedal Pooler, victim of political violence in 1904. Today’s story is about his grandfather, also named Vedal Pooler (with the same multiple variations of name spellings I griped about before). This Vedal is my great-great-great grandfather. He is Dad‘s grandmother Alice Pooler Vayo’s grandfather. He was born in Canada in 1828, give or take. Vedal immigrated to Maine with his wife, Angelina. First, they lived in the…
I’m not sure any one piece of paper ever made me as sad as this. It’s the receipt from my Uncle Robert’s grave: The receipt’s date is June 3, 1929. The amount of $2.00 would cover the care of the infant’s grave. Another $10 was paid the next day to Edward McCarthy, who dug the tiny grave. If that’s not sad enough, there was a note from one of Dad’s sisters in his wooden keepsake box. It explained that Grandpa…
Another discovery! First it was the Bangor High School yearbook from 1917, the year leading up to Grandpa Vayo’s graduation. Here’s his senior photo along with a memorable blurb: We’ve already seen Grandpa’s high school artwork in an earlier version of The Oracle (apparently, there were monthly editions to highlight the students’ talents). In that edition, Dad’s father displayed his comic chops. In this edition, though, Grandpa appears to be tip-toeing into the water a half century before a future…