Once again, Father’s Day is here, so I’m reposting some reflections on all fathers, be they biological, grandfathers, father figures, favorite uncles, surrogates, and others that have played or continue to play a role. I often think of my father, a man left without his own at age three and left him nothing but a name, and who survived two stepfathers, one of whom he connected with for a short time, and one with whom he didn’t, and of consequence didn’t really have a model. He was an only child, and thus didn’t have any siblings with whom to share the experience. Considering that, he did remarkably well in the parent department, raising three of us with generosity. He wasn’t a demonstrably doting parent, but we knew that he loved and cared deeply about all of us. I had a personality closest to my mother’s, so he and I were perhaps closer than my brother or sister, because I understood him. Oh, yes. He loved them both, but my brother was a bit of a challenge, and my sister, the youngest, was the princess. When it came to managing his affairs later on, that became my role.
Continue reading “Reflections, again, on Father’s Day”Tag: fiction
Don’t Bother Leaving a Message
Some time ago – actually five years, if I’m counting, I wrote about answering machines and voice mail, which had been, it seems, the gold standard for reaching out to friends and family. Some of you older folks remember when they were first developed, with separate devices hooked up to the telephone. Cordless phones were the size of FBI walkie-talkies, and we had to plug in car phones. Yes, answering machines were so innovative, such an improvement. Until they’d be filled up with junk callers, telemarketers, and stuff we didn’t need to hear. Then, we’d get unseemly pleas from the technology to “please empty your voicemail.”
Continue reading “Don’t Bother Leaving a Message”The Daigneaults
My late father-in-law grew up in the rich, rolling farming country of far northern New York, just west of Lake Champlain along the Saint Lawrence River. It was a largely French population that had moved south from Quebec, where village names like Chateaugay dotted the map. Alfred was one of ten children, second youngest in a large farming family whose name, Dore, with an accent over the “e”, evolved from “dor-EH” to the anglicized “DOR-ah”, the “e” switched to “a”.
Continue reading “The Daigneaults”House Hunters “Off the Grid”
Yes, I know. It’s been too long since I gave you faithful readers an update on the saga of “House Hunters”, where people looking to buy a house, and which gets more and more bizarre as time goes by. A recent trend has been to “get away from it all.” It’s a new, truly disturbing twist on what is frequently referred to as work-life balance. I wasn’t really sure how some of these folks could get to this point, but they have.
Continue reading “House Hunters “Off the Grid””Keeping a Sunny Outlook
Yes, I know. We’re into the “bleak mid-winter”. I step out the door, and my nose and hands immediately yell at me, “Quick – get back inside”. The weather is alternating a few hours of sun, followed by clouds, then periods of snow or freezing rain. The wind comes up and rattles the windows. The Super Bowl is coming up, and our beloved Patriots didn’t even make the playoffs. Nothing new really in Red Sox nation either, although it will pick up and we just know that they’ll be a contender next year. My gardens are covered in snow, but I know that underneath all that dormancy, there is beauty just waiting patiently for the warm weather to come back. The election cycle and the primaries are heating up, but I just know that the country will come to its senses and elect someone I like. Or at least one that I don’t think will be in jail by November.
Continue reading “Keeping a Sunny Outlook”
