Tag Archive | inspiration

I found you, my Rosa…

My Dearest Rosa, Well, it was a sweet search and one that culminated in a wonderful moment for Sue. I knew where you were buried, in a little cemetery in Duxbury, Vermont, right alongside your husband, Henry and son, Freddie. It took a while to find you and it was such a charm when I […]

My Pop, practitioner of the practical…

Dear Rosa, Your grandson, Henry, has always faced life straight on. Something works, but is a bit unorthodox? Who cares. My dad came to visit yesterday, just thought he’d swing by for a cup o’ joe and I was so very delighted he did. At 82, it’s amazing he is still able to drive. We […]

Grammy’s house

When I began this blog, so many months ago, I never expected the fresh grief or the healing it would bring. Each memory brought both joy and melancholy as I revisited my childhood days. Of hooligans and shenanigans and Uncles that would sit in their rocking chairs and the sweet sound of my grandmother’s whistle […]

Two degrees off-center…

Dear Rosa, If one were to liken a soul to a gyroscope, then mine was knocked off-center by two degrees some thirty years ago.  The day my grandmother died. Mary Ferry, “Mrs. Ferry” she was called by all the neighbors. You knew her as daughter. For me she was simply “Grammy.” I’ve written of her, scattered thereabouts, stories of her […]

November 1, 1927…

Dear Rosa, I remember asking your daughter about the ’27 flood when I was just a kid. Too young to understand the devastation, yet I caught the tension in her clipped words. Water rose to the second floor. Took the family cow. Swept away all of the musical instruments we’d just bought for Christmas. That’s it. […]


Dear Rosa, I’ve come full circle, back to my very first letter to you. Back to the photo I treasure so much. And back to your little boy, gone before his time. Fredie Blair, born January 1898, died October 26, 1902. Dead at the age of 4. In my sweep through genealogy this summer, I came […]


Dear Rosa, See now, this I know we got from you – as direct descendants from poverty, my generation learned how to make do, how to craft simple games from scavenged items and find joy with no money involved. Tag was for the weak, the uninspired. And football? Baseball? Kickball? How boring, unless, of course, you […]

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