Nat’s first encounter with the aftermath of a blizzard 2.6.78 ~ Ledyard, Connecticut
Snow memories… Blizzard Charlotte keeps reminding us of Blizzard Larry, which stormed through Connecticut thirty-five years ago on February 6, 1978, when we also got 21 inches of snow. Our son was two years old at the time, and was already showing signs of the outdoor-loving guy he was to become.
2.6.78 ~ Ledyard, Connecticut
Yesterday I kept thinking about these pictures and so decided to learn how to use the scanner today. Nate (we used to call him Nat, but his friends changed his nickname to Nate) moved to Georgia in 2011 and he very much misses New England and snow. Tim set up a webcam for him so he could watch the blizzard outside our kitchen window on his computer as the storm was in progress.
Tim and Nat taking a walk to see what they could see
While flipping through the photo album I came across this picture of my sister Beverly and the swan she sculpted from a snowfall the year before, in the winter of 1977.
Beverly and her lovely swan ~ 1977 ~ Storrs, Connecticut
my new reindeer ornament! ~ 12.22.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
We will be doing a lot of celebrating this holiday season, planning to enjoy family and five different Christmas trees, including our own. Tim has a vacation this year so we’re off to visit our children and siblings soon. But first we had our winter solstice gathering here, enjoying candlelight dining, music and good conversation with dear friends on the longest night of the year.
12.22.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
On Saturday Tim & I and Dima & Larisa went to celebrate with my sister, brother-in-law, aunt and father at their little house in the Connecticut woods. My sister has been dreaming of a boxwood Christmas tree and this turned out to be the year she found one! Isn’t it pretty? So simple and sweet. I think she may be planning to plant it outside in the spring.
12.22.12 ~ Storrs, Connecticut
The ancient ones were delighted to see Larisa and seemed to be enjoying the festivities, but we didn’t stay too long because they do tire out from all the bustling excitement of having company. The four of them will be having a quiet Christmas dinner on the 25th. We’ll be heading for New York, Virginia and Georgia.
Auntie and Larisa ~ 12.22.12 ~ Storrs, Connecticut
I brought Dad some clementines and fondly watched him enjoy peeling and eating one. Sometimes I hesitate to share pictures of him because part of me wants to remember him the way he looked when I was a child…
Papa ~ 12.22.12 ~ Storrs, Connecticut
After my mother died Dad and I used to drive up to Cape Cod to visit her parents, my beloved grandparents. He always brought along a little supply of fruit. As I was the driver, he would cut the fruit into bite size pieces with his pocket knife and share them with me, popping mine into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to take my hands off the steering wheel.
Most of the time Larisa was with us, riding in the back seat, and sometimes Auntie would come, too. One summer day when we were using the air conditioning in the car, Larisa had brought some chocolate with her. We stopped at a rest area to use the facilities and she left her chocolate in the car. When we returned to the car she was very disappointed to find her chocolate melted into a gooey puddle. But not to worry! Grandpa took that glob of chocolate and held it out close to the air conditioning vent in the dashboard for many miles until the chocolate had hardened up again. If his arm got tired he never mentioned it. That’s grandfather love for you!
We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home! ~ Charles Dickens (The Pickwick Papers)
Our governor has asked all the churches in our state to ring their bells twenty-six times this coming Friday morning, in memory of twenty innocent children and six brave women who were gunned down in their elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut four days ago, last Friday.
As the chilling details of this horrific story have been unfolding we have been thinking of little else. We are numb, still stunned, deeply saddened. Our hearts ache for the first responders and for the parents, families and friends who lost a precious loved one so suddenly and so inexplicably.
As the light begins to return on the winter solstice, as the bells are ringing, as prayers, sympathy and blessings continue to be offered, may the light of comfort and healing shine a little brighter and a little longer in the days to follow.
It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work and that when we no longer know which way to go we have begun our real journey. ~ Wendell Berry (Standing by Words: Essays)
Time for me to express a little joy, the sort of elation parents often simply cannot contain when something wonderful is happening with one of their offspring. In September we received the welcome news that Larisa & Dima got engaged, and in October we had the pleasure of meeting Dima’s parents, Svetlana & Vladimir, when the kids brought them here for lunch and a delightful afternoon of getting to know one another.
Dima’s family emigrated from Russia to settle in the United States when he was seven years old. Turns out he was a towhead when he was small, same as I was. It’s funny the things I make note of and file away in my memory. Dima is short for Dimitri. Larisa is a Slavic name, too, and when she was little we tried calling her Lara, and even Lara-Kate, using her middle name Katherine, but it never stuck. It occurred to me how symmetrical the names Dima & Lara would be together. Kind of like Tim’s brother and his wife, Dan & Fran.
Earlier, as we were preparing for the visit, I was standing on a stool to get some serving platters off the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. Apparently I was fumbling due to nervousness because next thing I knew the platters were out of my hands and had crashed onto all the wine glasses I had just washed. Broken glass was all over the countertop and the floor and in the kitchen sink, too. Somehow we managed to clean up the disaster, run out to Home Goods, buy new wine glasses, and make it back home before our daughter’s future in-laws arrived. Phew!
Dima & Larisa
Larisa loves the above picture – from one of her many escapades with Dima. We often wonder from where the thrill-seeking genetic material originated. (They’ve been skydiving, bungee jumping and scuba diving, too…) But we’re happy that the kids have found such a good match with each other in their adventuresome spirits. I’ve had some more mellow fun, co-creating a wedding web page with them – they’ve added all the content and provided me with pictures to play with. (So of course I borrowed my favorites to share here!)
We did put those new wine glasses to good use. Svetlana & Vladimir brought gifts of wine imported from Russia and Ukraine, as Larisa had told them beforehand about our Ukrainian ancestry. Apparently there is a Russian saying that only problem drinkers don’t toast before drinking. Well, offering toasts is a custom Tim & I were not acquainted with but soon we were learning a bit about the etiquette involved and were imbibing and well-wishing for the days forthcoming, right along with our new extended family. 🙂
Earworm: “May your days be merry and bright…” The line from that song has been stuck in my head for days now! We picked out our tree and brought it home on Saturday and I’ve now finished decorating it. Our cozy little nest is ready for the winter solstice. So here’s to Merry & Bright in the days and years to come! Cheers!
“Mrs. Cassatt Reading to Her Grandchildren” by Mary Cassatt
If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten. ~ Rudyard Kipling (Rudyard Kipling, A Life)
I beg of you, you good people who want to hear stories told: look at this page and recognize the wisdom of my grandmother and of all old story-telling women! ~ Isak Dinesen (Last Tales)
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. ~ Muriel Rukeyser (Out of Silence: Selected Poems)
“People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said. “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (The Little Prince)
Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands. ~ Linda Hogan (Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World)
A friend posted part of the above quote on Facebook this morning and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I put the book it comes from on my “to-read” list. Perhaps I will have more time for reading this winter.
My ancestors have been calling to me strongly since May and most of my time since then has been spent doing online research, and planning a research trip in the fall. It’s actually one of Tim’s ancestors who is calling the loudest and most persistently – I have discovered a clue that might lead me to her parents, who I have been looking for, off and on, for thirty-seven years!
It’s a struggle for me to balance research, blogging, gardening, housework, preparing healthy meals, de-cluttering, visiting my dad, enjoying the summer… Summer days are so long and mostly hot and humid, although we have had a few wonderful days here and there to enjoy onshore breezes and open windows. I quickly grow weary of the drone from the necessary air-conditioning…
But summer evenings are the best! Going to plays (Shakespeare-in-the-Park) and concerts (Dave Matthews Band) outside, seeing sunsets and starlight and the moonrise – the stuff memories are made of…
This past Sunday evening we went to Summer Music Sundays at Mystic Seaport for the first time. We dined and had drinks under a huge maple tree outside of Schaefer’s Spouter Tavern (named for the tavern in Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick), with a view of tall ships moored to the dock on the Mystic River, and smaller boats sailing by while the sun set across the river. We thoroughly enjoyed the music, guitar-playing singer Bruce Foulke, who treated us to some covers of old favorites by James Taylor, Carole King, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton… It was a lovely, perfect evening!
They are not callow like the young of most birds, but more perfectly developed and precocious even than chickens. The remarkably adult yet innocent expression of their open and serene eyes is very memorable. All intelligence seems reflected in them. They suggest not merely the purity of infancy, but a wisdom clarified by experience. Such an eye was not born when the bird was, but is coeval with the sky it reflects. The woods do not yield another such a gem. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Walden)
In April of 1966, the three third grade classes in my elementary school took part in the celebration of Arbor Day. Storrs Grammar School no longer exists, but the building is now called the Audrey P. Beck Municipal Building, serving as the town hall for Mansfield, Connecticut. On the corner of the property, near the junction of South Eagleville Rd. and Storrs Rd., stand three trees which were planted by me and my classmates. A solemn and serious child, this made a big impression on me. Each class had filled a glass jar with notes to the future from each child in the class, and each class planted its glass full of notes deep under the ground with the roots of its tree.
Every time I drive by these three trees, which is every time I go to visit my dad, I think of that day and wonder if those jars will ever be unearthed… Why are certain things remembered so vividly and others so soon forgotten?
Arbor Day as a holiday was created by a man named J. Sterling Morton and was first celebrated on April 10, 1872. It was estimated that a million trees were planted for the occasion, nationwide. I wonder if Earth Day, which got started in 1970, has eclipsed interest in this much older holiday. Certainly we can’t have too many reminders about honoring the lives of our dear friends, the trees.
The Arbor Day Foundation has an interesting history, click here. And suggestions for marking the day, click here.
