This is a tough one. Yes, it happened a long time ago, but it still warrants a trigger warning. This story involves Dad’s side of the family. His grandfather was George Vayo, whose mother was Olive Lambert Vayo. Olive was born in Orono, Maine, in March of 1854. Five years later, her sister Ada was born. This is Ada’s story. Adelaide Lambert was only six years old when her mother passed away at the age of 36. By the time…
Felix was born in Canada. He grew up in Maine. Felix served in the Army. He’s buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Who was Felix? He was the middle of five Vayo brothers, born just over two years after great-grandpa George Vayo. Of the five brothers, four were born in Maine. Felix, however, was born in Canada. Try as I might, I can’t figure out why. His mother, Olive, was born in Maine. His father, Joseph, was born in Quebec but…
One of these days, I’m going to figure out the story behind my maiden name: Vayo. Stepping back three generations on Dad‘s side, one family spelled their surname in three ways: Veilleux, Vayo, and Veayo. Just now, I double-checked all of great-grandpa George Vayo’s siblings and parents and there is, frankly, no rhyme or reason that I can find. Several family members – including his parents – changed their surnames from Veilleux to Vayo, while a few of George’s siblings…
I heard from Mom’s cousin Patty this week. She lives in New Hampshire and emailed that they were under a weather alert to watch for tornados. Tornadoes in New England. Crazy stuff! Here in southern Indiana, we had some wicked thunderstorms a few days later. It’s been very hot and those pop-up storms came and went all night. “That Mother Nature – she’s sure in a mood!” I might have said to Farmer Gary more than once. As a Tiller…
This is a real head-scratcher. Whose ring was this? The story starts back in the 1960s. I remember Mom coming into my bedroom and giving me a little white plastic box. She told me it was Grandpa Vayo‘s childhood ring and that he wanted me to have it. It was a beautiful ring. Although I treasured it, I don’t think I ever wore it. Fear of losing a family heirloom was high up on the list, plus the worry that…
I’ll say it before anyone else brings it up: Why would a couple of Empty Nesters add on to their home now that there are only two occupants? Actually, I didn’t happen upon the real reason until after we’d “moved in” following a long summer of loud construction. Why? Because the view is glorious! The east side of our house faces the forest, yet our house’s windows on that side just didn’t do the trick. We needed more windows. Lots…
Two years ago, as I was reading scores of old newspaper articles to learn more about my paternal great-grandfather, someone with the exact same name popped up. Dad’s grandfather’s name was George E. Vayo. This second person’s name was also George E. Vayo. They both spent a considerable amount of their lives in Maine. The story of this second George and his son stuck with me, and this week seemed a good time to dig a bit deeper to see…
Grandpa Vayo left this earth 30 years ago, and yet we’re still learning about his life. Thanks to my cousin Stephen for passing this information along to his mom, who shared it with me. Some of Grandpa’s high school artwork is available online. Grandpa was on the staff of The Oracle during 1916-17, his junior year at Bangor High School. The Oracle, a monthly publication, included student-written literature, campus news, sports stories, editorials, alumni updates, and more. Grandpa provided some…
It’s only just now occurring to me that Dad‘s love of the song “Waltzing Matilda” might be because his mom’s middle name was Mathilda. He’d sing over and over: Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabongUnder the shade of a Coolibah treeAnd he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled“You’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me” If you’re not familiar with Australia’s unofficial national anthem, here’s a 1962 recording by Dad’s favorite folk musician, Richard Dyer-Bennett:…
Maybe I should have asked my oldest brother if he and his wife are sick of being called “maniacs.” You know – being long-time Maine residents and all. Harry and Linda are avid readers. They regale family and friends each December with a letter tucked into their Christmas card detailing their recommendations based on their favorite reads of that year. Here’s a compilation from the past several years: Harry: After rereading Bleak House, Harry still ranks it as Dickens’ best….