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…
“You’ll never guess what I found today!” It was the winter of 2021, when Dad spent nearly every afternoon going through the boxes in the attic. Mom had been gone a bit more than a year, and he felt it was time to see what they’d saved over their lifetime, both together and even before they met. “My baby book!” I had to laugh at the thought of it. He promised to tuck it away for me to see during…
In a file folder containing Dad‘s retirement documents from 1988, I came across a five-page typewritten document. Titled: Autobiography A handwritten note at the top of yellowing paper indicates it was completed on July 21, 1954. Was it written by request of a potential employer? We may never know. Here it is, in its entirety: Autobiography by Harold E. Vayo, Jr. My birth occurred, I have been informed, at St. Luke’s Hospital, Utica, New York, about four-thirty on the morning…
The year was 1934. The location was Utica, New York. Dad was four years old. And he was on the move. Dad wasn’t running away from home, he just had things to do and places to go. Dear Grandma had her hands full. With the lad who was called “Big Boy” at times and “Junior” other times, plus baby Jean (a year younger than Dad) and another sibling on the way (Aunt Janet), it probably took a few minutes for…
Dad – who is this? Do you recognize her? We were going through old black-and-white photos yet again. Dad‘s voice softened, “Oh yes, that’s my Aunt Alice. She was so soft and cuddly. A good hugger.” Alice Plante was one of my paternal grandma‘s younger sisters. Ten years younger, to be exact. As I ticked off the names of the nine Plante siblings from our Ancestry family tree, Dad did the math. What an accomplishment for his grandma; she kept…
There’s so much to know about my paternal grandfather. Grandpa Vayo was a humble guy, though, so it’s taken a lot of research to piece together the story of his life. Lots of conversations with Dad, emails to my brothers, and searches on Newspapers.com. And here we are. Harold Edward Vayo was born on this day in 1899 in Brewer, Maine. His parents, George and Alice, had already lost a child to cholera. Little Gladys Alice was only 15 months…
I always looked forward to seeing my Aunt Janet when our families got together. The middle of Dad’s three younger sisters, Jan was not one to get lost in the shuffle. Born on August 4, 1934, Janet grew up knowing not everyone receives the gift of robust health. Of her mom‘s nine pregnancies (including a set of twins), only five survived. Grandma struggled with anemia those years and spent some time in the hospital. I’ll always wonder if those early…
My fondest memories of my aunt Barbara (the youngest of Dad’s three sisters) involve a hook, an ocean, and a ball of yarn. Barbara taught me to crochet back in the late 1960s. I’d learned how to knit (and purl) in Girl Scouts, but there was something about using one crochet hook (rather than two knitting needles) that appealed to me. Barb taught me how to crochet an afghan blanket. After that, a poncho. With fringe. The timing was perfect,…