What a pretty day it is with a bright sun and a clear blue sky. The temperature will stay in the mid-40’s. The breeze is slight. Only the leaves at the ends of the branches are moving.

When I was a kid, my grandparents were quite different from one family to the other. My father’s parents weren’t warm people. His mother, my grandmother, wore flowered dresses and black shoes with clunky heels. She’d wear the clear bonnets and clear shoe covers, the ones with a button, when it rained. She wasn’t a good cook. She always wore an apron with a bib which had a front pocket and tied in the back. I remember going there on Thanksgiving evenings for supper. The dining room was right by the kitchen. She had dark furniture, but a wall with windows and a glass door gave the room light. She always wheeled a basket to the First National when she grocery shopped. My grandfather was short and stout. I remember him always wearing a suit and a fedora when he left the house. He had an imposing presence despite his height. They lived in the same town as we did.

My mother’s parents lived in the city. They always seemed to have an open house on Sundays which was filled with family. My mother was one of eight so it was a big family. My grandmother also wore an apron, but what I remember most are her slippers. She’d roll down her hosiery to the tops of her ankles and walk on the backs of those slippers. She’d shuffle a little when she walked. The kitchen was where the women were. It was on the bottom floor. It wasn’t very big. My grandmother made pasta, and it sat in a pan on the stove, a self-service meal. I loved that you grated your own cheese. She had a great backyard. I loved the city, the bakery down the street, the corner store and the house which sold Italian ice out the window. I loved wandering around near the house. I used to walk up a few streets to where my grandparents had originally lived. I remember that house well. Beyond that, a few more streets up, was a small park. I’d sometimes sit on a bench and read. I enjoyed going to East Boston.

My week is busy, uke busy as usual. I have practice, a lesson and two concerts. We are still doing bluegrass, but Christmas is coming. We’re practicing those songs tonight. I do love Christmas music.

This entry was posted on November 18, 2025 at 1:23 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.