“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more.”

Edgar Allen Poe

Kids and Imaginations

When one of my grandsons was younger, I brought a whole truckload of styrofoam packaging home from work. Nothing special. Just something they were going to trash. My husband thought I was crazy, but Caleb had so much fun. First he used them like giant Legos. Built forts and castles. And then he got another idea. Construct a suit of armor. You can tell by his face he was dead serious about getting it just right. That’s when his big sister dubbed him the “knight in packaging armor.”

Kids and imaginations. They go together. Even though he turned 13 this year, he still has one. And I’m betting he’ll never grow out of it.

The Wall

AT THE VIETNAM WALL

because i never knew you
nor did you me
          i come

because you left behind mother,
father and betrothed
and i wife and children
          i come

because love is stronger than enmity
and can bridge oceans
          i come

because you never return
and i do
i come

          DUONG TUONG Washington, D. C., November 21, 1995

The older I get the more I think about our country and the sacrifices some have made on its behalf. Especially on days like today. I came across this poem, wtitten by Duong Tuong, a Vietnamese writer after visiting the wall in l995. I love its touching simplicity. A child of the 60s, I witnessed daily casualty count on the evening news and saw college students protesting while others burned our flag.

The thing I remember the most was the day my high school principal came over the loudspeaker and requested a moment of silence for a former student who’d graduated only months earlier and had enlisted. He was killed shortly after he arrived in Vietnam.

I remember seeing him in the halls at school. A nice guy. Always smiling. Barely 18. Just a kid. Gone in a minute. Someone I knew. Someone my age. That’s when I realized the war was real.

Hidden Treasure

The Brattle Book Shop, founded in the Cornhill section of Boston in 1825, has been in the hands of the Gloss Family since 1949. Over the years George and his son Kenneth built this shop into one of the largest antiquarian book shops in the country. Photo courtesy of Melissa Fulgham
The country’s oldest antiquarian bookstore, the Brattle Book Store has over 200,000 used and out-of-print books, magazines and more. Photo courtesy of Melissa Fulgham

My granddaughter visited this store (the lucky girl) and was browsing through the shelves. She picked up a book at random and it fell open to this passage. Beautiful, don’t you think?

Happy 4th of July

However you chose to celebrate this day, whether it be out at the lake, at a cookout with family, or enjoying fireworks with friends, I hope it’s a safe and happy holiday. Sometime during today, please stop and take a moment to remember what this day should mean to all of us.

Red Skelton was always a favorite of mine. Never failed to make me laugh, and sometimes brought me to tears. This was one of those times.

This says it all…