I got mail from Iowa this week. When I opened it, this picture fell out, with a note from a friend of my parents. Martha reads the blog. She loves the posts about family, so last week was a good one for her. She has a lot of memories of the bird in the pocket. I… Continue reading The Bird Returns
Category: Memories
Uncle Bird
My father always had a bird in his pocket. No, of course not really. What a mess that would be. Still, all my life, I remember children running up to him and with arms over their heads, waiting to be swooped up onto his hip, and shrieking to see the bird. In the last years… Continue reading Uncle Bird
In Groups of Three
We were three stair-steps growing up, cousins each a year apart, Gina-Carol-Carla. There were a lot of cousins — thirty-two on my mom’s side — but we were special somehow. Close enough in age and without major personality conflicts, I think. Our mothers mostly indulged us; cousins were safe friends. Sometimes we were all together,… Continue reading In Groups of Three
Chocolate Mortar
I must have been about a year and a half old in this picture, and I don't remember it a bit. I know I'd seen the picture before, but I forgot about it entirely until I found it in a stack of family snapshots a couple of months ago. Given the news lately, I feel… Continue reading Chocolate Mortar
Sleepy Reader
There I am, sleeping in my father's recliner. Mostly he was the one who slept in that chair. He always started by reading The Daily Record, the local paper out of Wooster. It was delivered in the late afternoons then, and it was still a full-size broadsheet, and he read it after supper. He tried,… Continue reading Sleepy Reader