“I had a bad dream last night. In my dream, I hugged Sister Amabilis too tightly. I broke her.” Poor Gary. He’d just met my great aunt the day before. He was stunned by how tiny she was. As newlyweds in 1982, we made the rounds in New England to visit relatives who couldn’t make it to our wedding. It was a treat to see Sister Amabilis, who was then 87 years old. Sister Mary Amabilis Regan was first-generation American,…
Have you seen those videos on social media showing animals (both in zoos and in the wild) wolfing down pumpkins? Living on a farm, I can’t help but chuckle. The great pumpkins-are-edible discovery is akin to children realizing milk doesn’t “come from” grocery stores, but moo cows. Pumpkins, it turns out, don’t just magically transform into pies, over-salted packages of seeds, and Starbucks coffee flavorings. Livestock and wildlife figured this out long ago: Pumpkins – raw pumpkins – are delicious!…
Today is the 25th of the month. It’s Christmas in October, did you catch it? Here’s a poem (a song, actually) that Mom wrote in April of 1957. Harry was nearly two and Dave just a month old. How Mom had time to think, much less create such a sweet lullaby, is truly beyond me! The Wonderful World of Downstairs The wonderful world of downstairshas ice cream every day;The wonderful world of downstairs is where my animals play. I will…
Back in the ’60s, I was a Junior Girl Scout from the fourth to sixth grade. This was at Sacred Heart Elementary School in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. No matter what you’ve heard about Thin Mints, let me assure you that back then Scouting was all about filling up that green sash with badges. Any girl with a drop of competitiveness in her soul worked every angle to earn more badges that her sisters in green. I scoured the thick blue Girl…
My mom loves Halloween. Pumpkins, gourds, cider, witches, black cats, and the occasional ghost, of course. She loves it all! Mom also loves children’s books. She wrote this Halloween story – featuring a witch called Grantie Grackle – back in the mid-1960s. My oldest brother, Harry, collaborated as her illustrator back when he was just 10 years old. Three decades later, Mom made copies of “The Whitewashed Ghost” and shared them with her increasing number of grandchildren. With her permission…
Even though local schools head back obnoxiously early around here, September still feels like the true back-to-school month. It’s still not cozy-up-and-read weather, but surely we’re getting closer! Here’s a look at the four books I read this month. Week 1: Children of Nazis by Tania Crasniaski An uncomfortable read, yet fascinating. The author devotes a chapter to the children of each of eight high-ranking Nazis. Some referred to Hitler as Uncle Adolf and others were even named for him….
Christmas is a big deal around our house. When the boys were little, we went a bit nuts with what went under the tree. To counteract that gimme-gimme message, we always made a point of anonymously donating wrapped gifts to children in need. It was a fun family activity to pick out gifts for these boys and girls and wrap them in festive paper. When James was in Beta Club in high school, he came home one day with a…
As you may have noticed from my monthly list of just-read books, I’m a sincere fan of memoirs. This interest extends to radio interviews and podcasts, as well. I think I get this love from Mom. Back in the ’70s when she had a houseful of kids, Mom would drag a portable radio with her from room to room as she dusted, changed the sheets, and vacuumed. She would catch fascinating radio interviews with musicians, actors, writers, and history makers….
My parents are nature lovers. (For a reason I don’t recall, this moniker was often pronounced “nay-CHOO love-OOS” over the years.) My two older brothers even went to “nature camp” back in grade school. Indeed, they each won a free week at Nature Camp for scoring highly on tests given following Saturday morning nay-choo films at the local museum in Pittsfield. I went just once. Sacrificing Saturday morning cartoons for a chance at nature camp just wasn’t worth it to…
Nearly four decades ago – on August 7, 1982 – Gary and I got married. We’d met 18 months prior. I was a reporter, he was a local farmer fighting the federal government to save his land. My first words to my future husband: What the hell’s a watershed? Gary’s animated response won me over, and I’ve never tired of his stories in all these years. We met in February of 1981. Gary popped the question in December. We planned…