Gary doesn’t like snakes. Not one bit. Living on a farm, though, there are plenty of opportunities for reptilian encounters. Here are just a few: Pssst! Up here! The other morning, Gary headed out to our garage to hop on his John Deere lawnmower, as the grass in our yard is in rapid-growth mode. First, he backed my vehicle out of the way. Walking back in to get the mower, a scruffy old bird’s nest on the ground right in…
Memory is a fascinating function of the brain. It’s especially curious when two people share the same experience, but carry somewhat different versions with them into the future. For example, a Christmas shopping trip in December 1963, with Dad as my shopping buddy. Destination: downtown Pittsfield, Massachusetts. (After 1963, Mom always took me Christmas shopping. It was a treat. We would stop by Rosa Restaurant on North Street “for a bite,” as Mom would say.) It never occurred to me…
My sister-in-law Linda posted some beautiful flower photos this morning on Facebook. She and my brother Harry live in Maine and spend a lot of their time happily communing with nature. I, on the other hand, can recognize pansies and geraniums, but I fear that’s about it. Oh, and roses. Carnations and day lilies, too, But that’s it. So it’s a good thing Linda identified the flowers in her post as peonies. Now I may not recognize peonies, but at…
Dear Dad – My brothers and I decided to capture a list of some of the quirky, memorable, and downright goofy Dad-isms you treated us to over the years. Dad, you may not have often regaled us with what are now called Dad Jokes (and for that we are grateful!), but you nevertheless kept us entertained. This collection of Dad-isms fell naturally into the following five themes: Music to our ears Hippie Music! As rock and roll music took over…
The usual meaning for the term “keyboard warriors” is those angry trolls who make sure social media is always stirred up with arguments and untruths. For our purposes, though – and during Teach Music Week – we’ll look at the keyboards that tie our family together. Piano keyboards. Dad remembers taking piano lessons when his family lived in Lowell in the early 1940s. He was ten or 11 and would walk just a few blocks to get to Mrs. Salmonson’s…
With all the talk of viruses in the news lately (and a century ago), I think back to the comfort, warmth, and healing provided for many years by the cherry spread. Mom only used the cherry spread when we were ill. The cherry spread plus slowly-sipped ginger ale took care of any number of tummy aches and “bugs.” (To this day, ginger ale tastes like medicine to me.) In many hours of digging, I’ve only found one photo that includes…
Gosh, I remember that day. We were at Grandma and Grandpa Cassidy’s house for a visit. This story centers around their kitchen. And eggs. I loved that kitchen, and the adjacent pantry. The kitchen included a dinette set, pushed up against the wall. That wall featured a Murphy bed-esque ironing board – it folded up and all but disappeared! The room also included a gas stove and a tall white cabinet that was freestanding. I’m sure that cupboard housed a…
There’s nothing quite as gross as baby food. You know, the greenish glop in a jar that just doesn’t smell right. It did my heart good to read in this poem that Mom believed in babies eating real food, too, even sixtysomething years ago. The Roast Beef Baby We moved to Pennsylvaniawhen you were one, about.We slept three nights in a moteland ate our dinners out. Now other babies at your agewere eating out of jars:mushed and mashed and lumpy…
For 27 years, I worked at an attraction in Santa Claus, Indiana, where Christmas music played from May through October. It was fun to watch unsuspecting visitors suddenly realize “Let It Snow!” was playing on the speakers in the middle of July, with outdoor temperatures approaching triple digits. Most smiled, a few rolled their eyes, several brave souls sang along. My first experience Christmas caroling was when I was three years old. Mom, who loved Christmas, announced to my brothers…
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 –…