For Christmas quite a few years ago, my husband gave me (and him) tickets to Wicked on Broadway. He pulled them out of the tree at the end of the gift giving and handed them to me.
I started crying because I was so happy but also because I felt like he really understood what I would like.
He talked to a friend about different plays and she told him she thought I would like that best. The biggest gift was that he was going with me, even though he doesn’t like to go to plays!
It was a Wednesday matinee, we took the train in from Connecticut and we both had a great time.
I’m turning 64 this year. My parents are 2 years apart, so we’ll just use the same age range.
My mother was working for a nice local construction company where she had worked for many years. They were good to her. She got the job because she was good at what she did and they were our neighbors so they knew they could trust her. Outside of work, she spent a lot of time reading and she enjoyed going to tag sales on Saturdays with her sister in law Edna.
My dad was working for a local rehabilitation hospital in their Facilities Department as their painter/wall paperer which was his profession since he got out of the army in 1946. He really enjoyed working there because of all the people he got to see and my sister worked in the Occupational Therapy Department. He started golfing again when my sisters and I were in high school so he probably golfed sometime during the week and maybe weekends – I don’t really recall!
This was also the time that my mother had a ticking time bomb in her brain called a Glioblastoma Multiform weaving its way through the areas of her brain. Little did they know how different life would be towards the end of that 64th year.
I grew up watching football on tv and in person at our town’s junior football league.
Later, I was running down the hill to the high school games on Saturdays in middle school and cheering them from the sidelines once I became a cheerleader in high school.
Pickup games were played on the practice field in the fall and there was a certain thrill in evading tackles or keeping someone from the ball while on defense.
Senior year I was a captain for defense on our Powder Puff football team. We had practice for 2 or three weeks before the big game against our cross town rivals on the day before Thanksgiving.
Our son played football for the same high school team I cheered for and once again I would head down the hill to watch the games.
My family has a 16 member Fantasy Football league which as me checking the predictions and watching Red Zone closely on Sundays!
I attended one college from 1978 to 1980 and received my Associates Degree in Secretarial Science back when that was still a thing.
Annhurst College was a beautiful liberal arts college set in Woodstock Connecticut – “the quiet corner” of the state. Laid out on both sides of Route 169 it was originally a teaching college for Daughters of the Holy Spirit, the nuns who taught in the catholic schools in the eastern part of the state. It then developed into a “regular” college for girls, and by the time I got there, it was co-ed with a 5-1 ratio of females to males. At the time I was there the student body was around 250-300 people.
The college consisted of one old brick building that housed “the gym” and sciences classrooms on the second floor, and classroom/administration building, a student center/cafeteria, and cultural center of built in the 1960s. There were two dormitories – one built in the 1960s and the other built earlier, as well as another building that housed the nuns when I went there and contained the chapel. There were also old homes that some nuns lived in and one was used for the admissions office. In the basement was The Hobbit Hole, the college bar. The only official place to drink in Woodstock because it was a dry town!
I loved it from the moment I saw it. I loved walking everyday to meals and to classes along the paths, sitting out in front of the student center after a meal, or waiting for one, riding my bike to Roseland Lake, taking the school’s bus to Putnam on Fridays to pick up supplies from K-Mart, ordering pizza nearly every night (and gaining that “Freshman 15”), and just reveling in the beauty of the countryside.
Sadly, in the spring of my 2nd (and last) year at Annhurst, it was announced that it would be closing at the end of the academic year. all underclassmen were given help to find somewhere to go at that late notice and alumni were left without “a home”. It really left a hole in the hearts of everyone.
Nancy (me) Annhurst College Graduation May 1980Views of Annhurst College present day (2023)
Thankfully about 10 years ago, an alumni association was started up and there is an annual reunion held at the campus which is now part of Woodstock Academy (a private school).
My husband and I occasionally ride out to Woodstock on the motorcycle and he drives down Route 169 so I can have my bit of nostalgia.
*A common conversation after graduation:
ME: I go to Annhurst college. THEM: Oh! Amherst in Massachusetts wow! ME: No, ANNhurst college in Woodstock. THEM: Woodstock NY! Oh wow! ME: NO ANNhurst College in Woodstock CT. It closed the year I graduated. THEM: Oh! Never heard of it.
Tell me in the comments if you’ve ever heard of it!
Perusing through a box of pictures, I found the journal and pictures from a trip to California at the end of July 2007. Our son was going into his senior year of high school and we needed to get the trip in before football practice started!
I’m so glad I kept a journal because there was a lot I’d forgotten and it really brought it back to me. Especially our day at the Moaning Caverns in Murphy, California! They are located about an hour from Twain Harte where Mark’s dad lived. When we would travel to visit him, I always made sure I found a couple of fun adventures so Cody wouldn’t be bored. The website looked very interested and he and I decided we were going to rappel down into the 165 drop. For perspective, the Statue of Liberty is 151 feet. The following is from my journal:
“Oh my GOD. 1st we watch a video with rules like NEVER let go of the rope, NEVER put your hand on the J-bar – real fear inducing. Then the person goes over them again. There were 5 of us. 2 girls went 1st then Cody then me then another lady. We have a seat harness & a chest harness. The chest harness has 2 carabiners & they attach the J-bar to it after weaving your rope through the bars.
Then you duck under a rail and grab onto the rope and feed the rope up toward the J-bar that makes you go down. So I’m hanging onto the rope with my feet on the wall and moving myself down. You can see a ledge so you go down to it and then there is a small narrow hole. You put your back to it and move yourself down. I’m going through this little hole sweating and questioning my decision. There’s another small flat spot and beyond that you see the walls far away and a lot of air space.
8/1/2007 Moaning Cavern Rappelling
I go through that last hole and go over the side. Bang around a little desperately, want walls to put my feet on but there is nothing except me, a rope, and a seat harness. It is freaking scarier than para-sailing last year (story for another day). My heart is pounding. I’m shaking like a leaf. Rocky (my husband’s nickname) knew I was freaked (they were at the bottom watching) because I was silent – no shrieks, no shouts – just silence. I was doing two handed pushing on the rope & even separated the bars a few times so I could go faster and get it over with! It’s hard to even look down because you’re at an odd position. Everyone on the walking tour is watching and when you get to the floor, you go just below (deeper into the hole!) and the guide pulls you in. I was shaking so much! I had to sit down. Cody said it was the “scaredest he’d every been“. After it’s over you have to walk up the 265 stairs to the top.”
I like to say “I’ll try anything once and if I don’t like it, I won’t do it again.” That DEFINITELY applies to rappelling! While looking up the Moaning Caverns there is no mention of a rappelling adventure on their site. Wise decision Moaning Caverns!
I moved into this house in May of 1961, the month after I turned one year old. Before that, my family rented a home a few blocks from my mother’s family home.
I imagine my parents’ eyes lit up when they saw the four bedrooms and the 1/2 acre yard. The bonus was the covered porch on the side of the house and a double bonus was a next door neighbor with four children!
The porch was where we watched thunderstorms lighting up the woods across the street, where we hung out with friends, where we slept on hot summer nights only to be woken up by the sun, well past sunrise beating down on us!
One of my Sunday mornings watching the world go by6:30 am on a September morning
I left for seven years to California and looked we looked high and low for a house just like the one I grew up in. We found one that had it’s own charm but then we had the chance to buy this one from my dad and we took it. We moved back to Connecticut 28 years ago and are still so thankful it worked out.
August 2021 and the start of the family room addition. The back deck wrapped around the the porch
The side porch is still a special part of the house. It was given a facelift a few years ago, had a deck attached for the back of the house for 10 years or so, and is now a little bit larger to go with the family room added 2 years ago. During warmer weather, I sit out there with my morning coffee and newspaper. It’s the same location that my dad sat for 40 years, reading his newspaper in warm weather.
The sunrise from my side porch November 4 at 7:30
I love that this house keeps so many memories alive.
Growing up I loved when the clocks moved forward an hour! This was before they started messing with when it happened. Every year it was the last Sunday in April and with my birthday being the 22nd, it was a pretty good bet it would happen on the morning of our family party.
Our relatives, including 4 close in age cousins, would come over for food and cake and us kids would play in the yard all afternoon. My dad would bring out the motor scooter with side car (on loan from his brother) and take everyone on rides around the neighborhood. It felt like the day stretched on forever!
Falling back an hour usually coincided with Halloween back in the 70s so it would be nice and dark early when Halloween rolled around. We’d get out around 5pm and by back by 9pm to sort our candy and make trades. My sisters and I went to a catholic elementary school so we’d have the next day off because of All Saints Day. It was one of the few perks of going to our school!
I came to realize very quickly that babies do not recognize Daylight Saving time! Dogs too. They are going to keep on their regular sleep, eat, poop time regardless of what the clock says!
As the years have gone by, I realize I don’t do well with the time change at all! I’m going to bed at 9 when it’s really 10 and then getting up at 5:20 – which my husband reminds me “it was 6:20” – and I feel exhausted! Or because “it’s really only 8 but the clock says 9!”, I’ll stay up for an extra hour and again, exhausted!
Arizona and Hawaii have it right – they just don’t participate. Good for them! Who do I need to talk to here in Connecticut? I think we should be a little oasis of common sense!
My husband and I spent a week in Lake George in August. We brought our boat and stayed in a 1950s type resort about a mile or 2 north of downtown Lake George.
Our second hike of the week was at the Cook Mountain Preserve out of Ticonderoga.
We (I) always make a point to find someplace to hike because I really love to hike. But we (I) always manage to get lost! This trip was no exception because we got sort of lost finding the trailhead! First we drove to the “destination” but it was far past the trailhead. So we backtracked and you couldn’t really see the trailhead from that direction so we turned around again! We found it on the third try.
I made sure we signed the book and the time we started out just in case we disappeared on the trail! The trailhead had a map posted as well as maps to take with you (done, still managed to get lost).
The trail started out fairly flat but once it started on the Ridges Trail it was fairly steep – 680 feet over a 1/2 mile – then more gradually to the views. We had our hiking poles and I’m glad we did! The trails were clear so there wasn’t much climbing over and under.
Trail signsOn the trailMushrooms along the wayTwo view optionsview of Lake GeorgeHeading to Lake George view
We got to the Lake George view and were a little disappointed! I thought we’d have more of a view and I had to really walk around to find a good view. We sat for a bit and had a snack and then moved on to the Vermont view.
farmland down belowLooking into VermontFrom a different viewWhere I was standing and what’s in the distanceFarther in the distanceEven Farther!Mount Independence in the distance
I spotted the flag on top of the mountain and remembered a trip to Fort Ticonderoga we took on the motorcycle. We never went to Mount Independence but I know we saw it from the Fort. This was definitely the better view.
Purple mushroomsOdd looking mushrooms Puffy and weird texture mushroom No hike is complete without a selfieHe just keeps walking as I take pictures!More mushrooms!The best meal we had to that point all week!
We were pretty tired by the time we were done and stopped at this general store for lunch which was delicious! The owners were really nice too!
Christmas with Grammy 1966 (me in the red/gray sweater, my twin in yellow, my older sister in the back with the scrunched up grin)
When someone says “Holidays”, I automatically think of Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. The Big Three!
Ever since I was born, Christmas and Easter were primarily celebrated with my mother’s side of the family. There was a rotation of where it would be held. I think up until 1967, it was held at the family home where my grandmother and oldest aunt lived. This picture was from our last Christmas with her and it includes me, my 2 sisters, and my second wave of cousins.
Thanksgiving was a low key holiday for us because there was usually a high school football game to go to! My relatives would be off with their “other side of the family” for the holiday.
My mother died when I was 27 and not yet married and my sisters were both married but no kids yet. Our first holiday without her was Easter of 1987, and my cousin hosted everyone. By Thanksgiving I had moved to California but I know without a doubt, my family back home continued the tradition of gathering, having a great meal, and exchanging presents. The following Christmas there were three babies so of course everyone gathered together. When we moved back to Connecticut in 1995, I was able to show my husband and son how my family celebrated growing up!
My house is our old family home and so it seems natural for us to host my mother’s side of the family. We do that every year in early December. My sister who lives in the same town always hosts Easter.
Thanksgiving has become the holiday that rotates between 3 different households!
As far back as I can remember, there was music in my life. Whether from my parents’ big hi-fi that could play 45, 33, and 78 sized record, from my dad’s transistor radio sending out Hank Williams and Johnny Cash, or from the little portable record player that we had to put a penny on the arm so the records wouldn’t skip!
In my elementary school, we had music lessons with actual music books that we learned to read notes and sing from after being give our C from the nun’s pitch pipe. At church on Sunday, I loved to sing the hymns, following the notes on the page.
My love of music carried me through good times and bad times. It brought me to piano lessons at age 57 because the sound of a piano and watching someone play has always mesmerized me, it was always my favorite part of songs.
So a life without music at this stage in my life would be like a piano with no keys. Silent and sad.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 