Words from the Heart

Over the years, our Thanksgiving traditions have evolved. As a young girl through my teens, I remember with great fondness celebrating Thanksgiving at my Aunt Edwina's. All my cousins and I had the best time playing games, listening to music, watching the parade. Once I had a family of my own, we would travel between grandparents homes and our own. It was sometimes difficult; four little ones can be a handful to bundle up and travel from one New England state to another. But, the moments added to our memories were priceless. As my daughters got older, we would celebrate at home with guests, filling the house with laughter and fun. Since moving out to Western Massachusetts, our celebrations have been much quieter. Roger and I often travel to the Peace Pagoda in Leverett to meditate on how blessed we are. When we were first out here, my daughters and Roger's daughter would come with boyfriends/husbands in tow. Our tiny home was filled to overflowing with love, good food and ...

Momma, Daddy and Me - 1953 Today would have been my parent's 57th anniversary. The joke was that it made it easier for Dad to remember. Dad, you see, was a sailor. Dad always observed Veteran's Day. He was a member of both the Disabled American Veterans and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. As far as I know, he never missed a Veteran's Day memorial. Yet, he seldom spoke of his experiences as a wounded survivor of WWII. In fact, in all the years before his death, I only remember him telling three stories about the years he spent in the Navy. Two had to do with kamikaze attacks and the other was about the liberation of a tiny South Pacific island - Pohnpei. Dad served in both the North Atlantic and the South Pacific. He went into the service as a blond haired, blue-eyed boy, according to his enlistment records and returned a black haired, green-eyed man. His finger prints had to sent to Washington before he was released from service because they did not believe he was th...