‘La, la, la’, sings Gramps this morning as he builds his breakfast which consists of two poached eggs on a split and toasted bun with a little jam, one half a chopped onion fried in butter, a small bowl of … Continue reading
During the late thirties many young men went down to Florida to peel oranges for the summer. One of those fellows was my sister Bab’s boyfriend at the time. His name was Jacques Robeeeshaw* but in our one room schoolhouse … Continue reading
I call my father in law Grandfather – or Gramps, for short. Today my dear husband took Gramps to the doctor in Bangor while I stayed home and, like a good Maine woman, stacked a cord of wood, did laundry, … Continue reading
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