Posted tagged ‘family’
December 12, 2025
The winter weather is here to stay. I find myself thankful for days in the high 30’s after nights in the teens or, at best, the low 20’s. We may even get an inch of snow.
My sisters and I love Christmas. We carry with us the traditions started by our mother. We all have live trees. We take time to find just the right presents. We tease each other. We even bake the same cookies. Some might say we overdo the decorations, but I am of the firm belief you can never overdo Christmas. My sister loves mechanical decorations including ornaments which move. She has a giant Santa who dances and sometimes scares little kids. I have a piano playing snowman. He sings as he plays. He doesn’t scare kids.
When I was a kid, my parish had a Christmas fair every year. My mother always gave me enough spending money to buy gifts, mostly for her and my father, and to buy lunch. When the fair opened, we had a half day of school. The fair was at the town hall down the street from the school. We walked there with our classes two by two. The best table was the kid’s table where every gift cost maybe a dime or a quarter. My sister one year bought my mother a Christmas cactus. It sat on the table in kitchen, got huge and has lived forever. I always bought my father handkerchiefs. They came in a package of three. Lunch was hot dogs and a small bag of chips. I always thought they were the best hot dogs. I’d spend the afternoon there until I ran out of money then I’d head home. The gifts I bought were hidden until it was time to wrap them. I used to tease my parents about their gifts.
I always think Christmas is a celebration of the senses. Lights shine off the tree. Candles glow in the windows. Houses are outlined in lights. Bushes have colored lights which stave off the darkness. The house has the best smells. First is always the tree. On baking day, the kitchen fills with the aroma of cookies and pies in the oven. We used to wait in the kitchen until the cookies were done then we’d beg my mother for one. The taste of the slightly warm sugar cookies was heavenly. I took my time eating it. Christmas carols played while we decorated the tree, and we sang along. I used to run my hand up and down a tree branch then smell my hand. It was pine.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Christmas, family, Holiday, holidays, life
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November 30, 2025
The sky is cloudy, and a little rain is predicted for tonight. It is in the high 40’s but feels chillier. It is a good day to stay home, nice and cozy.
When I was a kid, Christmas took a great deal of preparation. It was the only day which merited a countdown. My mother gave us an Advent calendar every year. We’d open a numbered door a day. Inside each door was a Christmas or a winter image. Many of the images had glitter. There were snowmen, skates, wreaths, trees and always a Santa. Behind the 24th door was the Nativity. We used to take turns opening the doors. I still get an Advent calendar every year, but now I don’t have to take turns opening the doors.
We’d start begging for our Christmas tree a week or two after Thanksgiving. My father would put us off for a bit then he’d go to the gas station to buy our tree. When I was young, it didn’t matter what the tree looked like, whether there were bare branches or spaces. It was having the tree which mattered. It gave joy. I remember walking downstairs each morning and seeing the tree in the corner and smelling the aroma of pine. It filled the house.
The tree would sit for a couple of days so the branches would fall then my father would pull out the boxes of lights and ornaments. The lights were the big bulbs, the ones which would get warm. They were also the lights where one dead bulb doomed the rest of the bulbs. The strands were always tangled. My father, not being a patient man, hated those tangled lights. He’d follow a strand which led nowhere. He’d curse. He’d try again. Finally he was ready to plug in the strand and check the bulbs. More than not they didn’t light. That was another cause for cursing, very un-Christmasy. Finally he would take off every bulb then hunt for the bad one. He’d hang the lights around the tree then it was our turn. First went on the tinsel. It was strung around the tree. It was red and green and silver. My mother was particular as to how it hung. It had to drape. She then hang the big ornaments on the top branches. We never hung those. We’d hang all the rest. My mother’s job was then to make sure that bare spots had ornaments, especially in the middle.
The icicles were the last of the decorating. They were lead. We used to roll them into small balls and throw them at each other until one of us got hurt or my mother yelled. We’d hang them nicely for a while so they looked like real icicles then we’d get tired and start tossing them in piles on the branches. My mother stopped us. She rehung the ones we’d thrown and then hung the rest of the icicles. The tree always looked beautiful. I used to love to lie under the tree and look up at the ornaments and the lights. Everything shined.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Christmas, Christmas tree, family, holidays, writing
Comments: Comments Off on “Memories are lined in the smell of pine.”
October 12, 2025
The rain started earlier. It is supposed to rain on and off through Tuesday. I’m just fine with that. I intend to loll round and give my sloth full rein. I woke up with a cold. My nose is stuffy, my voice hoarse and every now and then I cough just to add to the misery. The dogs are my role models. They are sleeping on the couch, one on each side of me. I just put on a sweatshirt, first time this season.
I am giving Dunkin’ a second chance. Yesterday my latte was black, bitter and filled with bottom grounds. Today I am ordering just regular coffee and a donut. I can’t remember the last time I had a donut. They were a Sunday treat when I was a kid. My father used to buy them at the Quaker donut shop at four corners. He was a plain donut man who slathered the top of his donut with butter. Mostly he bought glazed and jelly for the rest of us. When they moved off cape, Dunkin’ became the donut stop. My father would head there after he had finished his usher duties at the early mass. I always asked for a butternut donut. He never remembered.
Most families have rituals. My family certainly did. Many of them were centered around holidays, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sunday was the only day of the week with a ritual, the family dinner. It was always far more elaborate than weeknight suppers. A roast was center stage. My favorite was roast beef. My mother cooked it medium with barely any red. That has stayed with me. I don’t like red meat. For dinner there were always mashed potatoes. My mother used a hand masher and seldom left any lumps. Back then there were few fresh vegetables available. We’d have corn or peas or sometimes green beans. My father loved canned asparagus. My mother only bought a small can as none of the rest of us ate it. My father usually cut the meat in the kitchen as there was little room on the table. My mother made the best gravy. It was thick and a deep brown. It went on my meat and potatoes. I loved that dinner so much was it was the last dinner my mother made for me before I left for Ghana.
Here is the Dunkin’ update. My coffee never arrived. The Grubhub driver called and asked if I was beside some store. I said no. I told her I lived in a house on a street with houses. That wasn’t what the app said she told me. I said the app was wrong. She said no. I guess I’m living in the wrong place. She posted a picture of where my coffee had ended up. It was in front of some industrial garage. Grubhub suggested I ride around to find the coffee. I didn’t as I didn’t recognize the garage. Grubhub refunded my money and added $5.00. I really miss my morning coffee.
Categories: Musings
Tags: coffee, Dunkin', family, grubhub, rituals, Sunday dinner
Comments: 2 Comments
December 12, 2017
Today will be rainy and warm with a temperature in the 50’s, but tonight will be different. Old Man Winter, who’s tired of waiting in the wings, is coming back to lay claim to December. It will be in the 30’s all week during the day and even colder at night. One night is predicted to be in the teens. On that night, I’ll be cozy and warm in the house with all the Christmas lights glowing and spreading their warmth. I’m thinking I’ll have egg nog in hand, in keeping with the season of course.
It has been really difficult of late to maintain a bit of optimism. I hold on to mine with every muscle in my body especially now, at Christmas time, when all of my memories surface and help me believe in goodness, generosity and faith. Even though we live distances apart, my sisters and I celebrate together when we honor family traditions. We keep our mother and father close. How could I be anything but an optimist at this time of year?
My first Christmas in Ghana was my first Christmas away from my family, but my mother made sure I had a bit of home. She sent ornaments from our family tree. She also sent a small plastic tree to hang them on. I used the brick-like paper from the box to make a fireplace on the wall. From it I hung the small stocking she had sent. A few Christmas cookie cutters were also in that wonderful box. Though I had never made sugar cookies, I did that Christmas. They were delicious and shaped like a star, a tree and Santa. I found out much later that my mother and my aunt Mary had split the huge cost of sending that box airmail so I’d have it in time for Christmas.
I have many memories of that first Christmas in Ghana, but I think my favorite happened while I lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. It was cold, and I was bundled in a wool blanket I had bought and even still have. At that time of the year the harmattan is in full force. The days are hot, usually over 100˚ hot, but the nights and really early mornings are delights when the temperature drops sometimes even 30˚. On that night, I heard a boy’s voice singing. I think it came from a family compound just outside the school walls. The boy sang all the verses of We Three Kings in a sweet, clear voice. It was the only sound in the cold night air. It brought delight and joy to me, and I knew I’d be fine that first Christmas away. I always think of that boy as my Christmas miracle.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 30's, 50's, Bolgatanga, Christmas lights, cozy and warm, family, Ghana, harmattan, optimist, Peace Corps Ghana, rainy, teens, traditions, warm, winter weather
Comments: 13 Comments
November 26, 2015
I am reposting last year’s Thanksgiving musings. They can’t be bettered. There is, however, one change. We are going out to eat. I’ll have to dress for dinner. Yesterday I made my chocolate pie. My sister made her chocolate pie as well as her other pies. My other sister literally had to stuff her huge turkey into the roasting pan. It just fit.
I always think a day set aside for giving thanks has to be the best of all days.
Thanksgiving is the least adorned holiday of them all. We don’t buy each other presents or decorate the house. There are no new outfits in spring colors. The highlight of the day is dinner and being together around the table as a family related by blood or friendship. Of all the holidays, it is the one in which we all share so much in common. Traditional dishes unique to each family are served but so are turkey and mashed potatoes, stuffing and gravy and all those pies. It is the time for us to remember the people we love who are no longer with us and to appreciate the ones who are. We give thanks for the good in our lives, the food on our tables and the glory of every day. We talk together and laugh together at dinner. We pass the rolls, the green bean casserole and the canned cranberry sauce with the ribbing. We eat until we can eat no more. We finish by doing some cleaning up then relaxing in the living room until we have some room for dessert.
This morning I will watch the parade, the same as I have done as long I can remember. I’ll talk to my sisters to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I won’t dress fancy for Thanksgiving, none of us really do. I’ll sit with my friends and enjoy every part of the day. I am thankful for the life I have been lucky enough to live, for the people I love and the people who love me.
I am thankful for all of you, my Coffee family.
Categories: Musings
Tags: eating together, family, giving thanks, out to dinner, remembering, sharing the bounty of food, Thanksgiving musing, traditional dishes, Turkey
Comments: 22 Comments
August 17, 2014
My dad used to tell me the story of my birth. The hospital was in the same town where my mother’s family lived so my father kept driving back and forth with updates. My aunt was getting married that very day and was not happy her beauty sleep was being interrupted by my dad. My grandmother told her to deal with it. After all, this would be the birth of her first grandchild. Later, back at the hospital, my dad was sitting in the waiting room, the only one there. Finally a nurse came in and asked for Mr. Ryan. My father, after a hectic, exhausting night, said, “Who in the hell do you think I am?” She had him follow her, and they were just wheeling my mother out when he saw her and me. That never usually happened. Most times the father first saw his wife when she was in bed and the new baby in a bassinet in the nursery. My mother always complained she looked awful and should have had time to clean up. “What is it? was his first question. The it was girl. The it was me. It was around 3 AM when I arrived. I still like a good entrance.
I have been most fortunate. My life is filled with loving family, the best of friends and countless adventures. I have lived in Africa. Who could have predicted that? In Ecuador, I stood with one foot in each hemisphere. That is just so cool. I have the best aim when it comes to holes in the ground making me an overachiever in such an important skill. My friends make me laugh and give my life joy. My two sisters are amazing. They love making fun of me, but they’d be here in a heartbeat if I needed them. My friends and I have traditions like celebrating the first day of spring by watching the sunrise over the ocean, playing Sunday night games before The Amazing Race, Saturday night movies on the deck, Easter at the Ocean House and impromptu nights with munchies and games. My Peace Corps friends are back in my life and I am so much the better for knowing them. My former Ghanaian students too are back in my life. Two called and wished me a Happy Birthday today. KTCC has given me close friends for whom I am always thankful.
Okay, there have been ups and downs and bruises, but they never soured me on life. They made more grateful for what I have and taught me resilience and how best to land with the least amount of injury.
This morning my friend Clare left a mum on my front walkway. She does this every year, and it is one of favorite birthday traditions. Yesterday afternoon my friends took me to the Ocean House for a late lunch by the water. The food was scrumptious, the view spectacular and the drinks mighty tasty. They went down far too easily. They also gave me a Sharknado t-shirt I’ll wear with pride. When I got home, I took a nap. It was 6 o’clock. I woke up at 8. Tonight another friend is taking me to dinner. I expect it will be an early bedtime.
Every morning I am thankful for the new day and for whatever surprises it will bring.
Categories: Musings
Tags: adventures, Birthday, drinks, family, friends, fun day, Ghana, laughing, life, Ocean House, Peace Corps, traditions
Comments: 32 Comments
August 17, 2014
My dad used to tell me the story of my birth. The hospital was in the same town where my mother’s family lived so my father kept driving back and forth with updates. My aunt was getting married that very day and was not happy her beauty sleep was being interrupted by my dad. My grandmother told her to deal with it. After all, this would be the birth of her first grandchild. Later, back at the hospital, my dad was sitting in the waiting room, the only one there. Finally a nurse came in and asked for Mr. Ryan. My father, after a hectic, exhausting night, said, “Who in the hell do you think I am?” She had him follow her, and they were just wheeling my mother out when he saw her and me. That never usually happened. Most times the father first saw his wife when she was in bed and the new baby in a bassinet in the nursery. My mother always complained she looked awful and should have had time to clean up. “What is it? was his first question. The it was girl. The it was me. It was around 3 AM when I arrived. I still like a good entrance.
I have been most fortunate. My life is filled with loving family, the best of friends and countless adventures. I have lived in Africa. Who could have predicted that? In Ecuador, I stood with one foot in each hemisphere. That is just so cool. I have the best aim when it comes to holes in the ground making me an overachiever in such an important skill. My friends make me laugh and give my life joy. My two sisters are amazing. They love making fun of me, but they’d be here in a heartbeat if I needed them. My friends and I have traditions like celebrating the first day of spring by watching the sunrise over the ocean, playing Sunday night games before The Amazing Race, Saturday night movies on the deck, Easter at the Ocean House and impromptu nights with munchies and games. My Peace Corps friends are back in my life and I am so much the better for knowing them. My former Ghanaian students too are back in my life. Two called and wished me a Happy Birthday today. KTCC has given me close friends for whom I am always thankful.
Okay, there have been ups and downs and bruises, but they never soured me on life. They made more grateful for what I have and taught me resilience and how best to land with the least amount of injury.
This morning my friend Clare left a mum on my front walkway. She does this every year, and it is one of favorite birthday traditions. Yesterday afternoon my friends took me to the Ocean House for a late lunch by the water. The food was scrumptious, the view spectacular and the drinks mighty tasty. They went down far too easily. They also gave me a Sharknado t-shirt I’ll wear with pride. When I got home, I took a nap. It was 6 o’clock. I woke up at 8. Tonight another friend is taking me to dinner. I expect it will be an early bedtime.
Every morning I am thankful for the new day and for whatever surprises it will bring.
Categories: Musings
Tags: adventures, Birthday, drinks, family, friends, fun day, Ghana, laughing, life, Ocean House, Peace Corps, traditions
Comments: 32 Comments
July 21, 2013
A cooler day with no sun but lots of humidity is today’s weather. I turned off my air and opened all the windows and doors. The house needed the fresh air after being closed up the whole week. It. looks like it rained for a few minutes earlier this morning. I was expecting thunder showers and am disappointment by the rain’s poor showing. Gracie and I are going to the dump today.
Yesterday I bought some vegetables at a couple of farmer’s markets. I also bought some balsamic vinegar, olive oil and corn chowder base. It was in the early morning, but the heat became too much too quickly so I hurried home to the cool house where I did two loads of laundry. Last night I had dinner at my friends’ and neighbors’ house and got home around ten. It was by far my longest and most productive day in over a month. Today I’m pretty much done in. I see the dump, a shower and a nap in my future.
I remember when I was twelve I had a white visor I wore all the time. It was like a girl’s version of a baseball cap. I have a few pictures of our family vacation that year, and in every picture I’m wearing the visor. In one picture I am leaning against a tree and have a hand in my pocket and one leg bend at the knee resting on the tree trunk. The white visor is, of course, on my head. It was obviously posed, but in it I see the first glimmers of a teenage me. I think it was the pose I chose and the look on my face. I wasn’t a little girl any more, and I knew it, white visor and all.
When I’d meet relatives I hadn’t seen in a long while, usually my parents’ aunts and uncles, each identified me as George’s oldest or Chickie’s oldest (the name my mother was known as since she was a little kid). I don’t think any of them ever knew my name. They identified me by the parent to whom they were related and my birth order. Just after I got out college for the summer, the one before my senior year, a car stopped by the house. In it were Aunty Madeleine and Aunty Clara, two of my mother’s aunts, my grandmother’s sisters. They asked for my mother. I explained she and my father had gone away for the weekend. They stayed in the car, and we conversed through the window. Aunty Clara right away wanted to know who was taking care of us. I told her I was. She was shocked and couldn’t imagine my parents had left us alone. I told her I was nearly twenty-one and quite old enough to babysit for a weekend. She didn’t say anything, just frowned. Aunt Madeleine said good-bye, and they drove away. I don’t think they even knew who I was. No one asked if I were Chickie’s oldest.
Categories: Musings
Tags: aunty, birth order, cooler day, couldy, dinner with friens, family, farmers' market, fesh vegetables, humidity, nap, pre-teen, relatives, tired, visor
Comments: 13 Comments
April 15, 2013
I have always thought of Keep the Coffee Coming as a community, a family. We get to chat with each other, share memories and have a laugh or two sometimes at our own expenses. One of my favorite Coffee experiences is learning about the world from all of you and about your childhoods and your holidays and traditions. Some family members have been with me for years, and I cherish them but I also cherish the newest members of the family. I think of Coffee as a place devoid of criticism or controversy, a place where we can all feel comfortable with each other.
My friend Hedley has decided not to return to Coffee. Though he has been with me for what seems like the best and longest time, he has decided not to visit again. I wrote him an e-mail wondering if he was okay as I hadn’t heard from him in a while. It was then he told me that there were so many anti-British comments made he felt uncomfortable at the very least and pained enough by the comments that he didn’t feel welcome here any more. He is my friend and I will miss him and his wonderful comments.
I decided that I would tell this to all of you so that maybe it won’t happen again and just maybe Hedley will return. We can’t like everything and we don’t always agree, but we should always respect one another.
I do have one story for the day and I’ll call it Gracie, the Possum and Me. Gracie was sleeping and snoring beside me on the couch around 12:30 last night when she jumped up and ran outside. Right away I heard banging and a noise I couldn’t identify so I grabbed my flashlight and went out on the deck. I flashed the light all over the backyard and finally saw Gracie near the right side of the deck. Then I noticed the dead possum at the foot of the deck stairs. It was a huge, adult possum, as ugly as they come. I went down the cellar and couldn’t find my shovel so I grabbed a hoe and a garden fork missing one tine so I could get rid of the deceased. I went out the cellar door which is right near the stairs. It was then the possum got up and started walking. Gracie ran and grabbed it and I ran and screamed so Gracie dropped it. The possum had only been playing dead and had done a great job. I was completely fooled. After Gracie dropped it, the possum looked dead again, but I didn’t go too close and instead stood guard. Gracie kept running the perimeter of the yard and up the other deck stairs to my side stairs trying to get at the possum. I thwarted her every time. Gracie did that at least seven times. I was totally frustrated as I didn’t dare leave the possum and so I couldn’t lock the gates on the deck to catch Gracie. Finally Gracie was on the stairs near me long enough for me to talk to her, and she came right to me. I grabbed her and brought her inside and gave her a treat for coming. I decided to leave the possum until morning. The whole escapade was over at 1:20.
The first thing I did this morning was check for the possum before I let Gracie out. The possum had done it again, superbly played dead, and had gotten away while we were inside the house. I let Gracie out, and she went looking. Sorry, Gracie, the possum is gone!
Categories: Musings
Tags: caring, family, fork, friends, Gracie, hoe, playing dead, possum, respect, yard
Comments: 61 Comments
March 25, 2013
This morning the alarm woke me at 4:30. That’s right, 4:30, the most ungodly of hours, which is a bit of a play on the day as I got that early so I could leave at 5 to go to the 20th anniversary mass for my father. It is nearly beyond belief to realize he has been gone that long. I think of him often, and we still miss him every day. The mass was in a church about an hour and a half from here, close to where he and my mother used to live. My sister from Colorado is here for a few days and came especially for the mass. I left at 5 and arrived at the church about 5 minutes before the mass ended. A traffic accident on the expressway kept me in bumper to bumper traffic. I celebrate birthdays, the Fourth of July and a Christmas or two before the traffic broke, but once I knew I was going to be late, I was patient sitting in the car, so unlike me, but I hadn’t any other choice. I listened to the radio and learned all about the fiscal crisis in Cyprus, the snow coming my way and traffic updates on the 3’s. I’m hoping someone opines about Cyprus so I can jump in with my opinion. The ride home was just as awful. Another accident kept me in bumper to bumper traffic before I even reached the city, but once through the mess, I whizzed my way home. I had an errand which I didn’t care to do and, instead, went straight home and back to bed. I just woke up.
We all went to breakfast after the mass. Three of my cousins took the day off so they could go to mass and breakfast then they’ll spend the rest of the day with my two sisters. I like my family. I am much older, and though they are closer to my two sisters and spend lots of time together, I always get the hug and the kiss when we see each other. We are a family of huggers and kissers, even the guys. That’s a cool thing.
Two inches of snow are coming my way. I swear my sister brought it as she left over a foot of it behind in Colorado. The snow won’t last, according to the six or eight weather forecasts I heard, as it will be warm enough to melt the snow the next two days. I think the words were seasonably warm which didn’t get my heart thumping.
Well, that’s it for today: not much happening when you spend most of the day sitting in a car moving at a snail’s pace and listening to a combination of NPR, WBZ news radio and WEEI sports. Did I mention I found out that a 15th seed has made it to the sweet 16 for the first time?
Categories: Musings
Tags: breakfast, bumper to bumper, Cyprus, family, hugs and kisses, memorial mass, nap, NPR, Snow, traffic, WBZ, WEEI
Comments: 30 Comments
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