with huge thanks to Kathy . . .

Virginia, my brother Joe's wife, holding Kathy, age 2
My mother, Lillian Jones
My father, James Jones
Kathy's brothers Fran and Bobby

sunshine and shadow

Mabel brought me to Middleboro where she worked summers at Lakeville State Sanitorium. She let me watch while she and an aide gathered up the littlest ones and spread them on the lawn, on mats where they could crawl or nap in the sun -- completely bare. Mabel believed in the sun's cure or at least benefit. These children had polio or some bone problem, and she believed a daily dose of sun just might help. She had the aide take me into the hospital while she sat with the babies outside.

Inside I couldn't believe my eyes. Young children with complete body casts, arms and legs fully active, some with lesser casts -- making their way, however they could, from crib to crib, shouting, laughing, pulling at one another and having a great time and the place was as raucous as any playground I've been in in.

It was beautifully noisy, and sad.

Ernie

ESTHER, ERNIE AND I WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL TOGETHER --WELL, NOT REALLY TOGETHER, WE HARDLY EVER RECOGNIZED ONE ANOTHER ON THE SCHOOL GROUNDS. HOWEVER, ERNIE DID MAKE SOME WAVES SOMETIMES AND I'D HEAR AND I'D HEAR ABOUT THEM SOMEHOW. ONE DAY ERNIE CHALLENGED HIS MATH TEACHER, THE PRINCIPAL, WHO WAS AT THE BOARD EXPLAINING SOME MATH PROBLEM. ERNIE INTERRUPTED HIM AND SAID "NO, THAT'S NOT IT!" HE WOULD NOT LET THE PRINCIPAL SPEAK ANY FURTHER BUT INSTEAD STARTED TO ARGUE, AND RUSHED UP TO THE BLACKBOARD TO CHALK HIS IDEA ON THE BOARD. THE PRINCIPAL WAS VERY ANGRY AND MADE ERNIE LEAVE THE ROOM. LATER THE HE MET ERNIE IN THE HALL, PUT HIS HAND ON HIS BRIGHT STUDENT'S SHOULDER AND APOLOGIZED SAID -- "YOU WERE RIGHT, YOU KNOW. AFTER THAT, HE AND ERNIE WERE GREAT FRIENDS. THIS WAS TOLD TO ME BY BILLY, ERNIE'S BEST FRIEND, AND MINE.

ERNIE WAS GOOD IN ENGLISH TOO. HE WOULD CARRY SHAKESPEARE IN HIS BACK POCKET. I NEVER SAW HIM STUDY BUT HE ALWAYS KNEW THE ANSWERS. HE STUDIED IN THE STUDY PERIODS OR AT LUNCH. HE WASN'T A GREAT MIXER, STANDING AROUND CUTTING UP OR THINGS LIKE THAT.

HE AND I WERE GREAT FRIENDS AT HOME -- I THOUGHT HE WAS THE GREATEST. HE COULD ORDER ME AROUND: GET ME THIS, GET ME THAT, FIND THIS FOR ME. AND HE'D GO ON PLAYING HIS TRUMPET. I LOVED THAT TRUMPET AND SOMETIMES HE WOULD PLAY THINGS WHEN I ASKED HIM TO, BUT ONLY AFTER PLAYING A SONG OR TWO THAT I DIDN'T ASK FOR, JUST TO SEE IF I'D GET MAD BUT I DIDN'T.

ERNIE ALWAYS WAS READY FOR AN ARGUMENT. HE ALWAYS SEEMED TO WIN OR MAKE SOMEONE REALLY MAD. THIS WAS A DISQUIETING MOMENT IN THE HOUSE.

ERNIE WAS DISSATISFIED WITH HIS LIFE, AND DISAPPOINTED. BUT HIS TRUMPET BROUGHT OUT HIS SMILE ALWAYS. WHEN HE WAS ACCEPTED AT MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY AND LEARNED THAT THE MONEY WASN'T AVAILABLE FOR HIM TO GO THERE, HE JOINED THE ARMY, PLAYED IN THE ARMY BAND AT FT. DEVENS, MA. HE'D HAVE SOME SOLDIER BRING HIM HOME ON OCCASION, BUT GOT UPSET WHEN THEY PAID ANY ATTENTION TO HIS LITTLE SISTER -- I DIDN'T CARE, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER. I JUST LOVED TO HEAR HIM PLAY THE TRUMPET, ORDER ME AROUND, AND SMILE. BEAUTIFUL!

Leo

My second oldest brother, Leo, is forever in my memory. He was always here for everybody. I remember him down by the river, with his rose bushes, his canoe. His rules for Ernie (who will be covered in another tale) and me not to get too close to the water, not to step on his flowers.

Leo was here with his car, to take us on rides, to visit with our aunts and uncles, and cousins in Watertown, Quincy, or just to ride and see the scenery, water, farm country with its cows, or to Boston, and on such rides we occupied our time singing, playing road games, naming the various cars on the road, checking out plates from different states, counting the cows

Leo played the violin, and sometimes would play with my brother Jimmy, who was here occasionally, even after he married. Leo was tea teaching me to play the violin and I did learn one piece (I remember it -- Toselli's eSerenade). My teacher was very strict and demanded my full attention to the lesson. One day he was listening to my work and I noticed some eyes at the window; my friends Eleanor and Norma grinning and making faces. This was too much and no matter how much I pleaded, Leo only said, "ignore them." Of course I wouldn't, and that was the end of my violin lessons.

I especially remember Leo, helping me with accounting homework, when I was in high school, and making it all clear to me. I can still feel his presence, looking over my shoulder, to the point where I began to understand some of the practices and even enjoy the study. And I remember his small desk in the hall where his yellow No.2 pencils, all sharpened to a perfect point, lay lined up, not to be disturbed by anyone (he made that quite clear to all of us). Leo was an accounting supervisor at Fabyan Woolen Mills, and the building they occupied became the location of Esther's Condo (at Sanford Apts) -- but another piece on my sister, Esther

When he worked at Fabyan Mills, Leo used to bring home bolts of woolen material, some really nice hues. Esther and I would select the wool we liked and Celia would made skirts for us. A few of my friends would stop by to look over the wool and for a small price, would purchase enough for a skirt, or jacket. They would prolong the visit, much to my distress, because they had Leo's undivided attention and I was a bit jealous of this.

I will never forget the day Leo drove me to have an interview for job, after I graduated from high school and began to be somewhat of a nuisance hanging around the house. I dreaded this, and I am not sure I made a really good impression on the man I was applying to work for. Anyway, on the ride home, I said to Leo something like: "I don't think I got the job, but anyway it's not important -- I have plenty of time." Leo's response really shook me up: "It's important -- you have to work like the rest of us; you're not a princess, you know."

my sisters Thelma, Lily, and Mabel

it seems to me

that doctors, dentists, plumbers or what have you, tend to believe that only their time is precious. Maybe there should be a different approach:

Dial the doctor's office. Tell the "girl" that you would like to see the doctor at 2:30 on Thurday, October 9th and that he could call back to confirm.

Use the same technique for the plumber: "My kitchen sink is leaking and I would like to have it fixed at once — can you come within the next 30 minutes? You can't? Okay, then I'll have to call another plumber. Thank you."

OR: Perhaps the eye doctor: "I would like to have an eye check up on Friday or Saturday of this week. Can you see me? Ok, then I'll call someone else. But I will put you down for another year, possibly, for my next check up. Mark your calendar, my name is . . ."

Perhaps for the painter: "I have 3 rooms that need painting. If you will drop by before the week is over, I may have time to show you what needs to be done. You may call first if you like, to give me a time. Just leave a message on my answering machine so that I will be at home when you choose to come for a briefing and possibly we can make some arrangement for the job."

Mabel

My oldest sister Mabel, before she became a nurse, was the one we ran to when we stepped on a nail, scraped our knee, got a splinter in our hand, or "couldn't see." Mabel soaked our foot, bandaged our knee, lifted out the splinter, removed the foreign object from the eye. She smiled at our faces and things got better. After a while Mabel wasn't with us anymore; she was away studying to be a nurse. Occasionally, one of my older brothers would drive to Framingham and bring her home but only for a short time, and then we'd bring her back to the Nursing School in Framingham. We enjoyed the ride but were always sad to leave her there. But there were later times, after she became a nurse and later after she was firmly established as an RN and had her own car, that she would take us for rides, we'd sing (she'd teach us the words), we'd read the Burma Shave quips posted along the highway, look for cows in the fields and horses down by a fence and number plates of another state, as the cars whizzed by.

in Hawaii, my nephew John

the missing man

I forget his name -- he was nice, easy to be with, a great rollerskater, and he drove up every Sunday afternoon (this was our date) with his mother -- he said, "she loved to go for a drive on Sundays." And he had a job, tending guinea pigs at a local hospital, feeding them, cleaning up after them, making sure they were "comfortable for the night." I was dating soldiers -- hand-picked for me by John. John and Catherine had brought me up from Medway to their home in Virginia -- Fort Myers, home of the 3rd cavalry -- they had two young daughters and watched over me as they did their daughters. But I was 23 and looking for my independence, which I couldn't have (or thought so) at home. This photo was taken at the Fort one day. John, seeing the car drive up would say, Here's your "guinea pig nurse, Mary" -- he was somewhat cruel at times (particularly when he'd prefer I'd pick one of his soldiers).

Jimmy

My father to my mother, Jim
To his brothers and sisters, Jimmy
My oldest Brother Eddie named his first child, Jimmy
"Little Jimmy" he became all his life,
at least to us in the family
Another brother who was, by the way, named Jimmy
named his first child James Allan --
called Allan but in his later life,
called Jimmy by his friends
And my other brother, Ernie named his fourth child Jimmy
And a cousin named her child Jimmy
Who knows, as I go through my family tree
I may find a lot more Jimmys --
a nice friendly, lovable name,
don't you think?

my fisherman father

My father on the river in his rowboat cast his line and then sat, silently. I often watched and wondered why he wasn't rowing but was just sitting there under his hat. Then at once he moved, jerked the line, brought up a fish. A trout? A bass? We'd never know until he came to shore, spread his catch on something he had previously concocted -- sometimes two small posts with a board across it, a piece of white canvas spread over the board -- especially for proudly displaying and measuring his fish for the eyes of his children, where they would learn some of his skillful tricks of slitting and cleaning, so that when he brought them to my mother in the kitchen they were ready for the frying pan.

Sunday night supper

It was Sunday night I loved, probably because the Reardons were coming, particularly my uncle Bill, who taught me to tap dance, but also my cousin Bill, who sometimes brought his trumpet. Oh, those were the noisy times. Somebody was always at the piano in my house anyway, and it didn't take much to get Tommy going on the mandolin, and then, the singing. Sometimes my cousin Reg and Bob came, but they were very quiet. Hardly spoke. And my aunt Carrie, who sat there prim and tolerant. My mother would retire to the kitchen. Well, somebody had to think of supper. And as the violin was picked up, my sister Lily went to join my mother in the kitchen. How many? I had to know because I was pulled away from the happy hour to set the table for eight? ten? Of course, besides ourselves and the Reardons, there was usually Stanley and Frances, long-time friends who very often showed up on Sunday nights. And my mother and Lily came up with something.

so many gulls

The traffic was tremendous. I tired watching. Nothing was going on there. A dull evening for the gulls and I tired of viewing them. I counted 32, and just as I decided that was enough, wow, that's not a gull -- his neck is too long. Ibis. He must have heard me. He flew a short distance and landed in a private spot with a wooden walkway -- bridge. There he was, comfortable, and I watched and watched. Why doesn't he do something? My eyes were tired but I didn't want to miss anything, thought maybe another ibis might join him there. I put down the binoculars and when I picked them up again, he was gone. I searched and searched the marsh, saw a boat-tailed grackle off taking a bath at the edge of the marsh. He seemed to be there at long time, then hopped into the grass, shook his feathers for an inordinate amount of time. I waited, wanted to make sure he was what I thought he was. Christmas, he's back in the water. My eyes are tired now, but I have to see about that ibis. I picked up the bird book -- uh oh, it was a snowy egret, not an ibis at all.

waking up

Today I woke up at four. I didn't want to switch on the light. I hate lights when I first wake up. I should have used this time to read, but I didn't. Instead I looked out the window. Nothing but the moon and a star -- oh, the moon and the star are definitely not nothing.

my nose

Somehow I have a nose, a nose that somehow got moved a bit in an accident. I don't remember the accident but have been told about it. Anyway, my nose swings. Well, it doesn't actually swing, or even lean, but it is somehow not where it was when I was created. It has been rather an annoyance throughout my life because I can see it from my right eye but not from my left and it's in the way.

teenager

Can't remember being a teenager. Always tiny for my age, always shy. So was I 12 was I 14, or 15? Who knows? I didn't. Lily was told to help me at a crucial time, and she did but halfheartedly, because she had her own problems, and I got through it, bumps along the way. Say, a house full of people -- family, friends, relatives, and there I sat, frozen, on the couch, legs under me until they were numb, afraid to move -- my first day.

when I was 10

A princess indeed was I at ten. Older sisters, older brothers, sisters-in-law, especially one who laughingly said, "you're spoiled" which made me feel important because no one in the family ever referred to me, or my young brothers or sisters as spoiled. My family would not put up with "spoiled."

I loved Celia, not to say I didn't love my immediate family.


Celia tried to teach me to cook -- to no avail, tried to teach me to sew -- to no avail. I babysat for her two sons, and then her daughter, but she didn't attempt to show me how. Of course, her youngest boy, age two, managed to fall into the river while in my charge, and his brother, age four, managed to reach in and pull him to safety -- no thanks to me.

When I was ten, I used to visit my Uncle Tom and Aunt Carrie and their six sons who lived on Beach Street in Wollaston, Mass. A short walk with my cousin Billy, and I was introduced to the beach -- was this a beach? There was no sand, only rocks, but there were waves, which I guess made it a beach. Slowly, holding Billy's hand, I managed to sit down in the water, splash around a bit, enjoy the camaraderie of my cousin, get a bit of sunburn, enjoy a cookie, candy, drink of something -- orangeade? And the trek home, where my Aunt Carrie turned me over to her adopted daughter, Ada (who eventually married Billy) who gave me dry clothes and towel and led me to a place to change.



Uncle Billy taught me to tap dance. He and Aunt Carrie and some of the boys came out to Medway often. I remember Sunday suppers with them at our table.

Apples

Sitting in the crotch of a tree, eating a green apple
Legs dangling, I sprinkle salt on a green apple
An apple falls to the ground
She has cheeks, rosy like an apple, that's Lynn
Apple after apple sliced for pie
The apple knew it would end up in a barrel, down cellar
Every apple on that tree was salvaged
I picked up every apple on the ground, put it in a bucket
Celia's face, round as an apple
We had a fight, with each apple flying like a baseball
The apple looked delicious,
until I saw the worm had beaten me to it

The last apple on the tree, looked lonesome
Turned me off, like a sour apple, but recovering,
I said something nice, at least I thought it was nice

I wouldn't know what to choose, the apple or the pear
I picked a bag of peaches but it wasn't like picking apples
An apple was always on the table
In the summer, blueberries, in the fall, apples, pies, cakes
I scraped the apple peel with my teeth as she cut
Apple starts with A and well it might, for
We roll down the hill, like a bunch of apples

The crab apple was easy to eat, I liked the sourness
I often wondered why it was called crab apple
and not oyster apple or crayfish apple
One of our trees produced an apple that I didn't like as a child
the russet apple, was it the color?
I can't eat apples anymore, except thin slices
Applesauce is one of my favorite things to cook
not having learned to cook
I'm fond of apple cake and good apple juice
but not apple cider

Celia had a granddaughter Karen, the "apple of her eye"
Little did Karen know she was the cause of a rift
between mother and grandmother
but she calmly went on eating her apple

Celia made the greatest apple pie, in our oven,
while my mother baked her bread

Thelma gave me her lunch box to clean,
which was my job for a nickel,
a half apple was there today
Ernie ran by me and grabbed the apple from my hand

I love to see the piles of various apples
-- delicious, golden, grandmother, red, yellow, green –
right beside the piles of other fruit in the grocery store

Telling a story the way it was told to me by my first-grade teacher,
to a great audience in my kitchen,
my brother Joe came by and grinning, his devilish grin,
ran through and threw the words out,
"Applesauce."

after . . .

After

after breakfast
after a good night's sleep in my new bed
after returning from Mass
after returning from the wake of
after I caught my breath
after all
after successfully mounting the steps, down
after I finish this job and
after coming back from
after the pelicans flew overhead
after several attempts at
after a swim my fingers, at least
after the sky's red had disappeared
after the bike ride was over and I was
after having once tripped over it
after spending all day at
after bending over piles and piles of
after the thrashing of rain on the roof
after reading her letter, all
after a good and beautiful snow had
after stepping into the back door of
after we learned that

marsh

A Song from the Marsh

The mergansers don't sing
So I'll sing to them, a lay --
Dippity Do Da, Dippity Day
For S. Carolina, it's a cold, cold day!

The blue heron dances on the water
I don't know that dance --
My thought is go and join him
In the water? Not a chance!

Overhead, there goes a pelican
Turkey vulture -- graceful flight
I try to keep them in my sight
with binoculars I hold on tight,
As well I can.

And the many gulls fly overhead
Chatting -- don't know what they said
No chance that I could reach
Up high enough, to say hello --
Well, I'll see them at the beach

sunset on the marsh

“Weading, Wighting, and Withmatic”

Going off to the first grade that morning, I really looked nice. My mother had dressed me in a brand new yellow-flowered dress, with a wide skirt and "bloomers" to match. My brother Eddie asked what I was going to do in school and having two front teeth missing, I replied “weading, wighting and withmatic.” Eddie from there on called me “Marwee.”

At school, I was seated at a double desk which “Robert” shared with me. After we gave our names in turn, the teacher had us form a circle and had us sing, with her, “Good morning to you, good morning to you, we're all in our places, with sunshiny faces, and this is the way we begin a new day.” I don't know how I remembered all this, because while we were standng in the circle, I was aware of a rather dribble. I looked down — my dress and "bloomers" were soaked — it was me. Embarrassed I froze and even before the teacher approached me, Robert took my hand and said, “it's all right, Mary.”

But it wasn't all right. From here I find myself walking, alone, down High Street, hoping not to meet anyone, past Woods Store real fast, because the Woods (Bert and Rose, whose names I didn't know then) might see me, down Village Street, down the Hill on Haven Street, and along Charles Street to my house. The longest journey on foot or otherwise I ever made in my life!

Inside the house, the table was set for lunch; Charlie and Tommy were there, and my mother; Mabel opened the door and my embarrassment was even greater there — everyone was surprised to see me home for lunch. But Mabel whisked me off and changed my clothes and said she'd take me back to school after lunch. No way!

Blue Grapes

Two grape arbors and in between, a path and steps leading to the water — actually, to a lower lawn and then the water. I can see my mother sitting in a lawn chair near the arbors, spewing grape skins she had in her mouth. My mother really loved blue grapes and that is why my father, getting the idea from the Italian families in Milford, for whom he did odd plastering and cementing jobs and was paid in “clothes for the children” or an occasional spaghetti lunch, complete with red wine, decided to grow blue grapes for his wife, this probably because he often came home for lunch, having already eaten, with wine on his breath. And so, he set to work driving into the lawn, 4 posts on the left and 4 posts on the right, path to steps in between, and before we knew what these were for, vines and vines of blue grapes were growing across from post to post, and my mother was there, and instead of talking, spewed the grape skins from her mouth, just as every year, or 16 months, occasionally 2 years, she released baby after baby, until at last there were 14 of us.

On the Ice with Joe

My brother Joe was a bit of a
daredevil and also seemed to
think he could do anything with
anyone, especially me.
He was nine or ten and I was
about four years old.

I remember being wrapped up
snugly and being put into a box.
It was a box, fastened tight
to a sled. I was tied in
securely and Doughboy and
Buddy were harnessed to
the sled, while I watched
the clever maneuvering of
the ropes. That was fine,
it took my mind off what
I was getting into.

Soon the dogs were running across
the large expanse of ice on
the Charles River, with me
sailing on, and I think
I wasn't breathing.

That was my brother Joe.

hello again

Miss Medway and all you guys -- I live in a beautiful house, with a great view of the marsh; it's a friendly and beautiful state, South Carolina.

I'm fascinated by the variety of birdlife here, especially on the marsh. I watch them up close from the house or porch. One morning a pair of hooded mergansers were playing in the marsh channel, right close to the house, and a tricolored heron and a little blue heron, very close to them, walked along the water's edge.

Yesterday and the day before Carol and I walked along the water's edge at Folly Beach (the Atlantic) with the waves lapping at our feet. Carol was barefooted but I had to do some jumping to keep my sneakers dry. We walked a good distance, the whole length of the beach, with a pair of ruddy turnstones running with their spindly legs in the water, right in front of us -- all the way!

And as we walked, a variety of gulls were around us, not shy at all. This was an amazing thing for me -- such a variety of them. And I used to think "a gull is a gull is a gull."

I walk a lot with Carol and yesterday I went shopping with Mike -- just walking through these large stores -- Wal-Mart, Costco -- is a walk! This morning a long walk on road with Mike after breakfast.

dawn

Greetings from South Carolina

Had a great trip Sunday. Hardly any traffic. Arrived around 10 PM.

A walk on Folly Beach yesterday with the surf lapping at our feet, hopping so as not to get our shoes wet (Carol didn't care, she was barefoot!). The gulls were various and interesting.

I took photos of the marshes near us but no wildlife showed up for their photographs. Perhaps another time.

I'm standing on the back porch scanning from left (east) to right (west).








Carol took this photo of me birdwatching.


Leave me blog comments or send me email, everybody. I'm all set up now.

Charleston

I'm in Charleston -- all's well. More soon.

sunshine

Carol and I had a Chinese lunch at the beach and a beautiful swim.

more anthurium

To You, Anthurium

We found you growing with your family, behind a building which is now unoccupied, except for maybe a rodent or two. Was that your choice? Carol picked you, to bring into the house; she cut your stem, put you in water and placed you on the kitchen table. Now, I am looking at you — your face is huge, and red, with an appendage which if it were on my face, would be a rather large nose. But that doesn't bother me so much as your hardness — although we haven't spoken a word, I feel a hardness which is unusual in a flower. You are a flower? Perhaps I'll get to know you in spite of my feelings (I'm not certain as to what my feelings are — but perhaps you know). So why don't you write a poem about me? You beautiful flower.

pruning

After Mass this morning Carol asked me to prune the Chinese rice flower plant. I did a bang-up job, don't you think?

anthurium

Carol and I walked down to feed the ducks and pick a couple of lemons. She picked this flower for me, an anthurium. Beautiful!

"raindrops are falling on my head"

Not really, because the rain is coming down hard and furious and has been for several days (with a break yesterday and part of today)

And I'm sorely in need of exercise

I don't walk in this rain (I'm tempted but Carol keeps me from venturing out in it)

Still, one day we swam in the rain, it was very wet! But delightful.

And the rains don't keep us from driving into town, to get books from the library, to shop for groceries, or whatever else is needed.

And today we drove in pouring rain to Volcano Village

Did no sightseeing but had a nice visit with a friend of Carol's who has an interesting little house on the mountain.

Sorry, no pictures. Camera doesn't like to be drenched

egg hunt

Beautiful morning.


Today's lily.


I love this bottle palm.


Uneven ground.


Where do the ducks hide them?


Our prize!

Mia

Tango