nana –

#ThrowbackThursday: Nana’s presence, near and dear

February 21, 2019 by Melodye Shore

I’m missing my Nana something fierce these days, so imagine my delight when my sister found and shared this special photograph. It’s a peaceful, somewhat stable moment in our family history, but you can read the previous chapters in our facial expressions and body language. And yet… When it landed in my Inbox, I was able to sense Nana’s presence, as if she were once again sitting right beside me, and that’s what makes this image a rare and wonderful treasure.

(Left to right: my mom; my sister Sheryll and her infant son, Jason; me, opening a gift; and Nana.)

Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits!

August 1, 2018 by Melodye Shore

Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits!

My Nana taught me to whisper those words, like a wish, before jumping out of bed on the first day of each month. It’s a longstanding British tradition, carried over into the New World.

Like most superstitions, it defies all logical explanations. Absent any backstory, we’re left to guess its original meaning. Wikipedia’s best guess is that it invokes images of “jumping into the future and moving ahead with life and happiness.” I’ll take it! Unbridled optimism: My Nana taught me that, too.

Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits! I don’t know how common it is anymore, but I still recall a moment of quiet validation, when I first came across that phrase in a book. (In the opening chapter of Trixie Beldon and the Secret of the Emeralds, Trixie says “rabbits, rabbits,” but who’s counting?) I can’t say that I remember to say it every month, but I’m not discounting the possibility that it brings good luck when I do.

Rabbits, rabbits, (rascally) rabbits! Here’s to a happy-go-lucky August, and to magic spells that never lose their charm.

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Flashback Friday: Magic Slippers

June 1, 2018 by Melodye Shore

Four sisters and a brother, standing in front of my grandmother’s house in Van Nuys, California. Headed to church, no doubt, on a break from my father’s tent revivals.

See how I’m posing for the camera, as if I own the frame? It’s not like me to take the spotlight, and it wasn’t back then. But I was pulled from the shadows that morning by a pair of Mary Janes.

I was the middle child in a very large family. With scarcely enough money for the essentials, we were forced to rely on the kindnesses of strangers: love offerings, dropped into the collection plate, tuna casseroles and cast-offs. Shoes were expensive, so it was a relief when we could finally replaced our pinchy shoes with ones that fit. Hand-me-downs, most often, or dusty oxfords, pulled from a bargain bin. Sturdy lace-ups, so they’d last.

But those glossy buckle-ups…oh my! They were magic slippers.

I was just a child, so I didn’t realize then what I know now: They were also a wild extravagance, purchased with a widow’s pension. It was my Nana’s way of doing things, this gift. Subtle, but symbolic in the best possible ways. “Let your little light shine,” she’d always tell me. Shine like the sun’s reflection in those patent leather shoes.

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American Girl’s Luciana Vega, and a doll giveaway contest

May 20, 2018 by Melodye Shore

Yes, I know. This weekend’s really all about The Royal Wedding. A fairy tale, for sure! Did you watch it in real time, like I did? Without a doubt, my Nana of Nottingham would’ve enjoyed all the pageantry and hoopla. And how much did we love that Prince Harry and Meghan Markel intertwined their unique stories into one–symbolic nods to the past, with subtle nudges toward the future.

We’re wishing the very best to the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, of course. We wouldn’t dream of intruding on their fairy tale. But if you’ve reached your quota of tea and petit fours, I’m thinking we might chat about something else. Just for a little while, and then we can reprise it together. You see, I’m eager for you to meet two lovelies from this side of the Pond: American Girl’s Luciana Vega, and my new friend, Payton (who is, coincidentally, celebrating her 9^thbirthday today).

Luciana (“Lucy”) skyrocketed to fame only just recently, as American Girl’s 2018 Girl of the Year. Like her American Girl counterparts, she arrived on the scene with an interesting backstory. In brief: She’s an aspiring astronaut of Chilean-American descent who dreams of being the first person to set foot on Mars. When she wins a scholarship to Space Camp, she makes lots of friends. She’s a little shaky in the self-confidence department, but as she explores the unknown, her self-confidence grows. Isn’t that always the way?

Lucy likes to push the boundaries of fashion, as you can see. Straight out of the box, she’s wearing a galaxy-print dress, holographic boots, and an edgy purple streak in her hair. Not included, but still covet worthy, our space traveler owns an entire wardrobe of STEM-inspired outfits and accessories, including a flight suit for intergalactic travel. Sweet, smart, creative, curious… Lucy’s destined to make her mark on this world (and perhaps other galaxies), same as our birthday girl.

Lucky me, I was invited by AG to introduce this newest superstar to you. But when I was hobbled by a foot injury, I decided to loan my Cinderella slippers to Payton. She’s been my blogging assistant for this project, escorting Lucy around town and then reporting back.

Images say far more than words sometimes….so let’s do a recap of their adventures.

On warm afternoons, they enjoyed lounging by the pool with AG’s boy character doll, Logan. (Payton’s grandmother made Lucy’s swimsuit.)

They also filled JoyJars® for the Jesse Reese Foundation. Over the course of a “Year of Joy,” kids diagnosed with cancer (and their family members) receive these treasure troves. It’s a labor of love, the gift of joy–an ongoing tribute to Jessie Reese, who created the Never Ever Give Up (aka: NEGU®) campaign while she was battlng brain cancer. Volunteers like Payton help keep Jessie’s wish alive.

True to form for two science buffs, they visited the California Science Center. Natch, the Air and Space Exhibits were the star attraction!

No word on whether Payton learned to moon walk, but she returned with lots of fun stories to share.

Maybe Payton will become a space explorer, who knows? Maybe one day, inspired by Luciana Vega, she’ll be the first woman to walk on Mars.

To help encourage that futuristic way of thinking, American Girl created an entire galaxy of Luciana-themed adventures. They, in turn, were inspired by NASA’s missions to outer space. Scholastic’s in on the action, now. You’re invited, too! Space simulations, quizzes, photo challenges, Space Camp, book excerpts, STEM projects and more…you’ll find everything on the American Girl game app and website. Oh, the places we’ll go, when we let loose our imaginations!

And now…drum roll please!–here’s the scoop on our Luciana Vega doll giveaway contest.

One lucky person will win a Luciana Vega doll, provided by Mattel/American Girl. To qualify, you must answer at least one of these questions: 1) What do you like about Luciana Vega? or 2) What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever learned about space travel?

Type your entry into a comment box, below. Be sure your sign-in includes your name and email address, so I’ll know how to reach you. All entries must be submitted by midnight on Wednesday, May 23th, 2018 (Pacific). I’ll post the winning entry on Friday, May 25. Good lucky, everyone!

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Nana’s Porch Swing and My New Glider

March 13, 2017 by Melodye Shore

My Nana’s house was tiny—a “cracker box,” my father called it—with a tar roof and peeling paint, two bedrooms and a single bathroom. She stored her wringer washing machine beside the creaky screen door, and stretched a clothesline between the apricot and fig trees in her grassy backyard.

Cozy enough for two, it was a tight squeeze for ten. But when our car rolled up to the curb, she burst through the front door, apron strings flying, and welcomed all eight of us with open arms.

I loved everything about my Nana’s house, but I have special memories of her front porch swing. It wasn’t fancy at all: just a slatted-wood bench, attached to the rafters with metal chains. But when daylight gave way to moonlit evenings, Grandpa Fred would settle his lanky frame into the swing and pull me into his lap. It was a cherished nightly ritual: I’d snuggle into his flannel shirt, and he’d stuff a wad of cherry tobacco into his pipe, light a match and suck on the pipe stem until the tobacco glowed red. We swayed back and forth in wordless silence, twisting pipe cleaners into clothespin dolls as the tobacco curled itself into smoky ribbons that drifted overhead.

That’s me on the left, standing with two of my sisters in Nana’s driveway.

To this day, I don’t think there’s anything more soothing than the back-and-forth rhythm of a porch swing, especially when it’s shared with someone you love. If you’ve ever experienced that, I know you’ll understand why I’ve always wanted a porch swing of my own.

It’s one of those dreams that’s proven more fanciful than practical. My front porch is welcoming, but it’s not big enough to swing your legs wide and far. Our backyard is filled with butterflies and birdsong, and the adjacent hillside is teeming with wildlife—all of which invites us to linger, to make new memories and share our stories. Even so, there’s no place to hang an old-fashioned swing.

But that’s how it goes sometimes, isn’t it? Times change. We adapt. Like this tangerine tree in our backyard, we cling to life’s sweetness — even as we make the inevitable changes, one generation to the next.

When I was a little girl, I vowed that when I eventually had a home of my own, I’d get myself a porch swing like Nana’s. But when that didn’t work out, for one reason and another, I looked high and low for a suitable alternative. A stand-alone swing might just work, I told myself, but store-bought options were either too big, too small, too rickety or stiff.

Patience isn’t my strongest virtue, but in this case, it paid off. Because, voilà! Like magic, a classified ad appeared on my NextDoor app: Two slightly-used rocking chairs AND a glider, $50.00 to the first responder.

SOLD, in a blink of an eye! Granted: my lifelong wish!

Yes, they need a good scrubbing. Seat cushions would be nice. The paint is so glossy, so glaringly white, and I much prefer a weathered look. But…$50.00, for the whole set! I couldn’t resist.

No, they’re not what I originally envisioned, but with a little elbow grease, I can transform these cast-offs into something beautiful. If I use my imagination, I can turn their rigid backs into something more rounded, soft and soothing.

Truth be told, I don’t even know where I’ll put them all. (Shhh! Don’t tell my husband!) But I’ll make room for them somewhere…it’s what we do, for the things (the people and memories) we love and cherish.

Can Spring be far behind?

February 8, 2016 by Melodye Shore

“In the darkest nights of winter,” my Nana always told me, “watch the skies and listen for the robins.”

I mentioned that very thing, in my blog post last week.

She was right, of course. Again. Because, oh hey, look who’s splashing in my birdbath!

Rarely have I ever seen robins in this area, and only once before in my own garden. He perched on my ~~soul~~ fence for a single afternoon, and then vanished.

Such cheerful birds, these harbingers of spring. I’m glad for their company, however long they choose to stay.

Seems Edward Jenner was equally enthralled by their visits. Here, his love letter to these red-chested beauties:

Address to a Robin
Come, sweetest of the feathered throng,
And soothe me with thy plaintive song;
Come to my cot, devoid of fear,
No danger shall await thee here…

Hop o’er my cheering hearth, and be
One of my peaceful family
Then soothe me with thy plaintive song,
Thou sweetest of the feathered throng.

–Edward Jenner (physician, musician, balloonist, and inventor of modern-day vaccinations, 1749-1823)

Throwback Thursday: Annie Elizabeth Harding, one of countless immigrants

November 19, 2015 by Melodye Shore

My great grandmother, Annie Elizabeth Aldrich, was born in Hertfordshire, England in 1859. In this snapshot , she’s about 45 years old and has long since moved to Nottingham. As mother to 11 living children (9 girls and 3 boys), it’s no surprise that she looks a bit weary. Even so, she was by all accounts a very happy woman who probably imagined herself living out her days among the people she knew and loved, in the homeland she cherished.

May (L) and Evelyn (RO were the youngest of Annie Elizabeth Harding’s 12 children.

But when World War I erupted, Nottingham was hit hard. Annie’s boys enlisted in the military, and my great-grandparents sought refuge on American soil. They were second class passengers on the USMS Philadelphia, which was chased by German submarines for countless, terrifying miles.

Her daughters found work at a local corset factory, and Annie — who, by then, was 56 years old–set about creating a new life for them on Pleasant Street in West Brookfield, Massachusetts.

She and her husband George worked hard, saved diligently, and eventually purchased a comfortable home on an old country road, across from a yeast-making factory and adjacent to the railroad tracks. Annie planted flowers on the hillside and was feted by her beloved children on the occasion of her 50th wedding anniversary.

Within a month, the Great Depression hit. They made do and did with less, so as to lend financial support to those in need.

Annie Elizabeth and George Harding, on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary in 1929.

Just five years later, my great-grandfather passed away. Annie was 75 years old. A widow now, she once again rolled up her sleeves. She endured floods and other hardships, but as it was with her pet canaries, she never lost her song. Local historians told me that hobos etched friendly symbols in the dirt roads that led from the rail cars to her house. “Hot meals offered here,” they said. “Everyone’s invited.” How utterly Annie, to share what little she had!

When I met the current owners of her humble abode, they offered me a gift.

Pulled from the crumbling remains of the original foundation, this brick reminds me of my personal roots. Too, it grounds me in the truth of things, within and beyond the current narratives we’re hearing. That is to say, that we are a nation of immigrants, settled by great-grandmothers who sacrificed much in the name of safety and freedom, and who were welcomed equally at Ellis Island.

Within this pomegranate, tiny seeds of truth

September 1, 2015 by Melodye Shore

Pomegranates evoke one of my favorite memories of early autumn. Juicy red temptations, packed with tiny seeds of promise.

And still…September, already?

‘Tis the season for reflection, falling leaves and drifting thoughts.

I’m good with retrospectives. As a memoirist, I probably glance in my rear view mirror more often than most. But I’m trying not to dwell in the past or anchor my dreams to a future date, uncertain. Be here, now, I tell myself. There are gifts in this very moment, ripe for the picking.

Stop and smell the roses

August 14, 2015 by Melodye Shore

Vanilla beans and cinnamon rolls…Lavender and lemon…Crisp, clean air, after a rainstorm…Fresh brewed coffee in the morning. These are standout fragrances, no doubt about it, but I’d put roses at the top.

Selected by the Vatican to honor the late Pope John Paul II, this luminous beauty has perfectly shaped blossoms and a sweet, citrus scent. Although it’s relatively new to the rose catalogue, Pope John Paul II is considered one of the most fragrant roses of all time. It’s certainly one of my favorites!(Don’t you just wish this were a scratch-and-sniff page?)

Pope John Paul II rose in my backyard

But when it comes to that quintessential “old-fashioned rose” fragrance, Damask is the once and reigning Queen. New roses are introduced every year, with various “improvements” to her lineage. Sure, it’s exciting to see all the new shapes and colors, with creative names to match. But once you catch a whiff of her classic pink blossoms, you’ll remember her always. Dreamiest scent, ever.

The Soul of the Rose, aka My Sweet Rose, by John William Waterhouse (via Wikimedia Commons)

I suspect my big love for roses stems from my tiny grandmother, Nana. One of my sweetest, fragranced memories comes of seeing her dab Rosewater Eau de Toilette behind her ears every morning and massage rosewater and glycerine into her arthritic hands at night. Oh, and when we ran into her arms after a prolonged road trip, she’d pinch her nose and tease, “You sure don’t smell like roses!” In this undated picture, she’s planted herself among her–our–favorite flowers. I’d like to think it captures the essence of her granddaughters, too, who loved her very much.

Nana among the roses, estimated 1916-1926

#AugustBreak2015 Photography Challenge, continued. The phrase for Day 14 is favorite smell.

Five Facts about Me

August 7, 2015 by Melodye Shore

1. I never dreamed I’d live so close to the ocean, but I’ve always felt its pull.

2. If Nature is a magician, I’ve fallen under her spell.

3. I can’t explain this #NanaLove any more than I can count the stars.

4. Happy is my default setting.

5. “Your home should rise up to greet you,” says Nate Berkus, “And at the end of the day, it should ground you in a sense of peace.” I’m not an interior decorator by any means, but I think my home is comfortable and welcoming.

Day 6 of Susannah Conway’s #AugustBreak2015 photography challenge. The phrase of the day is 5 Facts about Me. Ask me again tomorrow, and I’d probably create a wholly different collage. Maybe I’d adjust the zoom lens, crop the pictures a little tighter. But this is pretty decent selfie, for a first attempt.