You know what, Mom? You’ve got grit. The silence over the phone led me to quickly guess that no one had ever said this to her before. All her life she’d been the sweet, kind poet. Generous, quick with a smile and a hug. Gentle voiced. All her life, she’d also battled depression, anxiety, and an unhealthy dose of Irish-Catholic guilt. Yet somehow she prevailed. You never give up, Mom. No matter what the situation, you dig down within yourself…
Children – even adult children – often don’t start asking questions until it’s too late. Important questions about the stories their parents and grandparents carry with them, but don’t necessary bring up at the dinner table. I’m so grateful to have a giant (acid-free) folder of photos from my dad’s time in Japan and Korea. With long conversations over the phone, often punctuated by texting photos to his iPad to jog specific memories, Dad and I were able to piece…
Mom and Dad are both 89 years old. And today is their 67th wedding anniversary. They still hold hands. They still laugh together. And they still say, “I love you.” Mom and Dad met when they were 13 years old. Dad’s family moved in across the street from Mom’s house in New Haven, Connecticut. Just a year later, they promised to always be together. They kept that promise. But their education came first. Dad headed to Rhode Island and Providence…
“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…