Words from the Heart

Way back in the last century, I was a journalist for the York County Coast Star. During that time, I wrote about the happenings within the villages of York, Maine. Often, I would begin my column with a commentary on something that happened in the world or within the town. At that time, George and Barbara Bush were in the White House. Their local paper was the York County Coast Star.  On several occasions, I wrote about the Bushes. Once, when the president had told everyone he disliked broccoli and later when 150 seniors at Wellesley College protested the fact that Mrs. Bush was to address the graduating class saying, "she is not the type of career woman the college is educating," because, while she attended Smith College, she did not graduate. She left to marry George and begin a family. The broccoli column was a tongue-in-cheek lament on what would mothers across the nation do to inspire their kids to eat broccoli , now that it was known that the president disl...

In the early 70's, I was treated to dinner at Josef's Restaurant in Copley Square, Boston. Josef's was under the management of Locke-Ober's, another famous Boston eatery.  The fare included New England favorites but also culinary delights from France, Germany and beyond. I had  Vichyssoise for the first time that evening. But, this is not the story I want to share... On April 10, Google memorialized the actor Omar Sharif, best known for his portrayal of Dr. Zhivago. The minute I saw the Google Doodle, my mind flew to that night at Josef's. My supervisors were taking me out for a special treat to celebrate the work I did with young children and my upcoming graduation from Baystate College (at the time known as Baystate Junior College for Women). I was dressed in my very best mini dress with hair  coifed  to perfection. As we entered the restaurant, I was telling a story in my usual hands-flaying-in-air-not-paying-attention way.  Without bre...

The fields in the Wicklow Mountains, Ireland  Top of the mornin'!  Sure, and the sun is shining bright through me window and the soda bread is bakin' in the oven. 'Tis a good day to be Irish! Well, if I went with my mother's philosophy any day is a good day to be Irish, but March 17 holds a special place in my heart. On the 17th of March, there were traditions and rituals that were part of our lives. Observing those rituals was as important to us as breathing air. When I was young, we kids started the day with Mass...early...7:30 a.m. Then, we ran home, sporting our Irish knit sweaters and green apparel, looking forward to Momma's fresh baked Irish soda bread and a cup of tea. Then, after Momma put the corned beef, cabbage, potatoes and carrots into a huge kettle to cook at the back of the stove, we would bundle up in as much green as possible to be off to the parade.  Having seen pictures of the parade from years past, I don't quite remember ...

My Dad's Boot Camp Cohort - Great Lakes John Henry Neas, Jr.  My Dad survived WWII, returning home after the Japanese signed the surrender. He saw service in both sides of the globe.  First, in Normandy, and then in the South Pacific. Dad didn't talk much about the war. Like most veterans of his generation, the stories didn't come to light until their elder years, and then, usually when around their shipmates and comrades in arms. I've written before of the stories Dad told me. Some tear at your heart and others make you laugh. The photos below are of his last ship, the USS Hyman. This was the ship that he was aboard during the kamikaze attack in which he barely escaped death.  This is the ship where the surrender was signed for the small Pacific island of Pohnpei.   Pohnpei is where the missionary wife sewed an American flag under the noses of her Japanese captors, believing with all her heart that the allies would liberate the island. The...

On this July 4th weekend, I have waxed nostalgic. Thinking of summers past, I decided to share some "summer poems."  Enjoy! Wet Cement   The hellacious heat of summer cooked us  as we sat in the shade of curtained rooms.  The rumblings of thunder could be heard  far away, like an oncoming train that is heard  long before it arrives, rattling into a station.  The air sat heavy on us, except when the fan,  positioned to blow like a zephyr back and forth,  happened to kiss our salt-laden skin.  Suddenly, light exploded outside the window  open to emit the tiniest relief from the building heat.  One by one, they come, loosed from clouds – We peek out the windowed shelter like hunters,  peering through the blind, waiting for the flock to land.  In moments, the streets become alive with the sound of  thousands of tiny fairy feet kissing the scalding concrete. The magic of their dance imme...

Easter is upon us and as families around me prepare for this holy of holy days, my thoughts are lingering in the past. Now that my daughters are grown with families of their own, there are some things about Easter that I truly miss . I know that it may seem crazy, but I miss the joy of creating special outfits for them each year. Most of the time, I made their dresses, trying to pick just the right color fabric for their individual personality rather than dressing them identically. In addition, I would immerse myself in the pattern books, searching for something that could be individualized with different collars, different sleeves, or different trim.  I even enjoyed recreating their Easter bonnets each year to match their new outfits. Another task I miss greatly is picking out flowers to bring or send to my mother.  Momma almost always got hyacinths from us, but every so often we would find tulips or daffodils that were so unique that we just had to get those, i...

  The word " brother " is found in many languages. (Just to name a few - Old English broþor, from Proto-Germanic *brothar ( cf. Old Norse broðir, Danish broder, Old Frisian brother, Dutch broeder, German Bruder, Gothic bróþar), from PIE root *bhrater (cf. Sanskrit bhrátár-, Old Persian brata, Greek phratér, Latin frater, Old Irish brathir, Welsh brawd, Lithuanian broterelis, Old Prussian brati, Old Church Slavonic bratru, Czech bratr "brother" )  I have been blessed with brothers, in fact, I was the only girl in our family of four children.  My brother, Barry, and I are what some call "Irish Twins," because our birthdays are just over a year apart. We have, as often happens, been close since childhood. Barry will turn 59 on Monday.  This is big day for him, not because of his birthday, but because he is entering the hospital for the life-giving gift of a new kidney.  The new kidney comes by way of his best buddy, Rob, who it turns out is the perfec...

Immigrants just arrived from Foreign Countries--Immigrant Building, Ellis Island, New York Harbor. (Half of a stereo card) (Photo credit: Wikipedia ) I have been working for the past few days on my family's genealogy.  I am amazed at how much information we can access online as well as how far back we can go with that information.  After years of trying to piece things together, I am finally filling in the blanks on who my family is. The sad thing about all this is that I have come to realize that I have cousins I have never met, aunts and uncles that never saw me before they left this reality and grandparents whose lives are a total mystery to me.  For many and varied reasons, my family was not always the closest, especially on my Dad's side. The wonderful thing about all this is that I have found my father's ancestors (at least I believe I have) and they go back to Baden, Germany and Ireland.  On my mother's side, my paternal grandparents are a mystery ...