Recollections

When I was a child I loved visiting my grandmother who would spin magic during springtime. Everything she touched came alive. Even chores took on new meaning. Little did I know back then that each loving act Nonnie engaged in was a poetic expression of love for family. 

Life was full during springtime that rolled into summer. I spent curious childhood days watching Nonnie move from chore to chore with ease and enjoyment. Each task was lovingly carried out and I delighted in being the little helper.

Churn the clothes

round and round.

Hang them up

Clip clasp sound.

Tend the garden

roses first

snip snap smells 

readily burst.

I followed my Nonnie with curiosity and respect, as though she was the Pied Piper. Everything we did seemed like fun. When I wasn't engaged in chores, we would take long walks to the library or the drug store to buy the latest fashion comic. Although Nonnie could not read or write in English, she valued education and fostered a love of reading for her granddaughter. Her passion for life spilled over, influenced my quest to learn more, and increased my desire for playful adventures. I explored the nooks in the big white house, romped through the lawn, and ran between each garden bed to smell the fragrant flowers. I imagined myself as a traveler roaming new lands and grew up longing to see the country Nonnie left to come to America in 1920. 

There was so much that life offered with Nonnie. Harvesting vegetables and grapes was another fascinating adventure that awaited me as the little helper. In the back of the large white house that stood next to a beautiful park lush with trees was a vegetable garden. A huge vine of grapes stood tall at the entrance. Next to that was an extensive plot with varieties of vegetables and giant tomatoes to cultivate. Life was full with sights, sounds, and tastes of springtime that rolled into summer.  

Each morning, I would go to the kitchen, the hub of the house, to watch Nonnie prepare the food. The kitchen was such a happy place filled with the robust scents of fresh basil, parsley, vanilla, anise, and lemon icing. During the week, Nonnie kneaded dough into sweet Italian confections, created perfectly-formed handmade noodles, and washed clothes with a wringer that flattened each item with the twist of a handle. I loved to watch her pin clothes with large wooden clothespins and hang them to dry in the sun. I can still visualize the wet items flip flopping in the breeze.  I learned to be a very good assistant who passed the clothespins to my grandmother, learned to shuck peas, make Italian sauce from bushels of fresh tomatoes, prune roses, and enjoy life all due to a woman who may have been tiny in stature but large in heart. 

Years went by and childhood matured into motherhood. Balancing work and home life was time-consuming. Chores did not sing the same tune as in Nonnie's world. Life changed through the decades. Housework was no longer the sole work of the mother. There were other responsibilities to be met. What did remain constant was that spring rolled into summer just the same and life was full with feelings of family and love. 

Mother's Day is a day to recollect the love that fills our lives while remembering those who shaped our existence. Families bond, friends chat, celebrations are plentiful. Each year, I recollect memories of a loving grandmother and a wonderful mother who were shiny examples of motherhood. 

With the voices of angels,

eyes as sweeping as the sky,

and hearts as deep as the ocean,

my two mothers filled the air with love,

exemplifying that moment to moment-

giving is a gift of the heart. 

Storytelling is a gift of the heart that mothers seem to deliver to the children.

My love for storytelling comes from the women who offered it to me during springtime that rolled into summer each year.

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Each Tuesday, Two Writing Teachers offer writers from across the nation the opportunity to share their Slice of Life. Please visit the site where you will find interesting texts to read.

Honoring Grandparents Who Affect the Reading Lives of Their Families

In looking back upon my childhood, I have vivid recollections of vacations in the quiet town of Rome, New York. There, each summer, I renewed a bond with my immigrant grandmother, who could neither read nor write in English, but had practical knowledge, wisdom, and a strong love for learning. Through a series of weekly walks to the library, Nonnie touched my life in an endearing manner.  With a firm grasp of my hand, she would lead me to the Children's Room to discuss new titles with the librarian. Her gentle guidance and strong desire for her grandchild to be filled with the wonder of books, instilled in me a passion for reading. On these trips, Nonnie reiterated stories of her immigrants roots, travels to America, and dreams for her family to become Americanized and well educated. Her conversations became like the threads in her sewing cabinet that pieced together a tapestry of wonder and learning. Little did I know at that time how her weekly routine of library visits would become my rite of passage as a lifelong learner and affect my future path in education. Years later, my mother continued my grandmother's tradition of library visits and reading. Images of her cuddling with my son and daughter and their favorite book or the latest library treasure provide me with precious memories of how grandparents affect the reading lives of their families. 

In memory of these two loving women who provided a legacy of learning for my family, I researched titles suitable for a National Grandparents Day read aloud. My local library had the book, Grandma's Gift by Eric Velasquez, on its shelves. This memoir of the author's visit with his grandmother in Spanish Harlem parallels my special times with my Italian grandmother, emphasizing the strong bond between grandmother and grandchild. At a lexile level of 1070 this memoir can be included in a unit on relationships for grades 4-6. While focusing on the College and Career Readiness Anchor Standards for Reading, the text can provide readers with a different cultural perspective on the impact of  a grandparents' influence on the future of his/her grandchild. 

Anchor Standards for Reading:

1. Read closely to determine what the text says explicitly and to make logical inferences from it; writing or speaking to support conclusions drawn from the text.

2. Determine the central ideas or themes of a text and analyze their development; summarize the key supporting details and ideas.

3. Analyze how and why individuals, events, and ideas develop and interact over the course of a text.

11. Respond to literature by employing knowledge of literary language, textural features, and forms to read and comprehend, reflect upon, and interpret literary texts from a variety of genres and wide spectrum of American and world cultures.

Beyond an oral reading, crafting text-based questions can lead students on a inquiry to delve deeply into the topic of relationships. Posing an essential question, such as "How does family play a role in shaping our values and beliefs?," opens a dialogue about the abstract gifts that grandparents give to their offspring. By doing so, you can honor grandparents this weekend and reflect on how they have and can affect the reading lives of their grandchildren. 

Speaking of Freedom

A day in 1920 she landed on the shores of the United States with her first child. She traveled far from her homeland of Italy to greet her husband who already immigrated to America in hopes of finding a better life for his growing family. The strong woman with no knowledge of the English language met a land that was unknown and unfamiliar to her. This woman was my maternal grandmother.

Although this story may be a common one told by many families of immigrants, it was one carved into my etchbook of time and holds deep memories for me. It was a fateful day when Nonnie Rose traveled to a small city in central New York, Rome, to build a new life among other Italian immigrants. There in the same city, I was born decades later. As a small child, I became a regular summer visitor to Rome each summer. I grew up among a community of strong, Catholic immigrant women, listened to family stories, and heard countless messages of pride for being an American citizen. I grew to be a curious child, a learner, and a reader at the feet of the woman who could not speak or read English. 

What I remember most about those days were my grandmother's hands. They connected me to a lifetime of learning. Nonnie Rose's hands, rough from labor but gentle with touch, brought me each week to the library to collect books that would broaden my knowledge of life and history. Her touch lit my life as we walked and talked. It was her hands that molded the delicate cookies that graced her table or fashioned large honey dolls to be stored in a huge dark closet for later eating pleasure. It was her hands that showed me how to roll the clothes through an early dryer and hang them to dry with tall wooden clothespins on lines outside. Her hands tatted and grew a garden full of colorful roses, wonderfully scented flowers, and the biggest path of vegetables with a climbing vine, standing tall at the front, guarding the delicacies beyond. I observed, questioned, and sought further knowledge from this woman who had little education but a wealth of experience and a generous spirit. It was her aspiration for me to have a college education and a world of knowledge to absorb that guided me in later years.

Summer always reminds me of those summer days years ago that I spent playfully springing alongside Nonnie Rose as she worked, hoping that she would let me smell the flowers and roll the dough. "May I?" was a frequent question. My curiosity was always fostered. There was so much to learn and none of it seemed like work during those summer months. Snippets of "broken English" mixed with wisdom from age always slipped through our conversations. It may have been the actions that stayed with more than the words. I still recall my grandmother's primary thought, one comes to America to become an American and all that entailed. She and others in her community had a deep respect for American traditions while never letting go of their roots and smiles abounded when speaking about being an American. Although I did not realize at such a young age that I was part of a learning community, it existed in the kitchen of my grandmother who always rewarded a busy afternoon with a cookie, floral treat, or a walk to the drug store for a new edition of a favorite comic.

Recently on the July 4th holiday, I spent time rethinking the American experience. While gathering with friends and family, eating outdoors, and watching the Macy's fireworks display on TV, I was reminded of the quest for freedom that the immigrants sought. My grandmother yearned for educational enlightenment for me and rightfully so, I continue this desire. Her quest for freedom is the same that I and other educators bring to the classroom-the development of our learners to ultimately become knowledgeable citizens. 

As an aside, I stumbled upon a little known fact while writing these comments: Francis Bellamy, the author of the Pledge of Allegiance, is buried in Rome, New York. All of my years of traveling back to Rome, the city of my birth, never unearthed that information until now. Also, coincidental is the tweet from Bennett Ratliff, @BennettRatlif, that came across Twitter around the 4th of July. He mentioned celebrating Independence Day by showcasing one of his favorite skits, "Red Skeleton's Pledge of Allegiance." My grandmother would have enjoyed watching this skit and knowing that her hometown was honored as the burial place for Bellamy because she was fiercely proud of being an American in a land that afforded her opportunities. 

From my Ephemera Collection

FREEDOM is 

• Faithfully ours
• Real concept 
• Enduring truth
• Everlasting mindset
• Democratic right
• Owned by immigrants 
• Magnificent embodiment of the pursuit of life, liberty, happiness

Nonnie Rose would appreciate this bulleted poem about a concept she held dear to her heart.

For educators like me, freedom signifies hope, optimism, and the American dream that all our students become successful, lifelong learners and productive citizens of the future, able to read with understanding, write with depth, clarity and a distinct point of view, solve problems, be creative in thought and actions, and make sound decisions.  

#SOL22 March Musings Day 29: Rambling Autobiography

I was born in a small town populated by many Italian immigrants and their descendants along the New York State Erie Canal. Not until I was in graduate school did I know that my mother immigrated from Italy in 1921 with my Nonnie when she was a baby. I grew up adoring my Nonnie and spent peaceful summers learning about baking and gardening and taking weekly walks to the library. While I did not buy anything during those summer months, my Nonnie saved her money to purchase me a Katy Keene comic book. From then on, I fell in love with fashion and thought I might pursue fashion design like my mother did but my photographer uncle and mother insisted that I should go to a four-year college. My dream to become a creative person who wrote poetry and studied photography grew from then on. When in graduate school studying curriculum development, my professor asked me to start a reading program for young delinquent boys in a reform school in the country. From there I followed a calling to help others become lifelong readers. My favorite places were different reading corners inside or nature-inspired areas for writing outside. I can still sense the peace emanating from my alone time with a book or pen and paper. While in high school, I started dating a young man on and off this high school/college romance was not sustainable so I continued to search for love until I met my husband when I least expected romance. While walking with one crutch into a birthday party love struck. We conversed about my painful skiing accident and how I fainted in the hospital after being driven from Massachusetts to my hometown of Syracuse, New York. I became familiar with pain and while I was geographically unsuitable for my love interest, love did grow. I gave my heart to him a couple of years later. During the years that followed in a small village on Long Island, New York, we grew in faith as a family of four experiencing heartaches and joy. Becoming resilient through challenges became important when I once had non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2003. Remission became a blessed word that brought us eventually to the second chapter of life in our beautiful new build in Virginia. Here, we live with my family which is filled with two amazing little grandgirls. Life is fragile and uncertain but "in family life, love is the oil that eases friction, the cement that binds closer together, and the music that brings harmony" (Friedrich Nietzsche)  

✍

Thank you, Fran Haley, for your awesome rambling autobiography that was inspired by Denise Krebs who took Linda Rief's rambling autobiography and made the following starters for a quick write lesson. 

I was born…
I adore…
I bought…
I have…
I never…
One of my…
When I was (age)…
My favorite place…
I can still (sense)…
I dated…
I fainted…
I gave…
I once had…
I am…
I want to…

✍

Thank you Two Writing Teachers for this daily meeting place to connect with a community of reflective writers.

Summering on the Spiritual Journey

The art of summering is captured in the wonder of morning light, the darkness of a starry night, and the awe-inspiring beauty of nature. Poet Wallace Stevens stated, "The summer night is like a perfection of thought." I agree! 

My love for summer dates back to my early childhood when I summered with my Nonnie. Each week was full of small excursions such as walking to the library and church, running around the multiple flower beds and vegetable gardens, and pinning laundry on a rope as the breeze flipped and flopped our wash. Each activity was an uncomplicated, valuable memory of summertime. 

As an adult, the art of summering lifts my spirits. I wander through nature, finding ordinary items to dazzle me. Even a tiny dandelion, as simple as it is, brings joy. Now that June is here, with its kingdom of beautifully selected skies, beds of colorful flowers, and my magnolia trees, I can slow down with a more mindful approach. 

Yesterday, sunlight opened the day. I felt the pangs of loss more so than before, so I decided to go on my first walk in months. I breathed in June's fragrance of fresh-cut grass and hint of lilac and lavender. I listened to the sounds of birds and the swish-swash of the water pond. I paused for a short time, just to stare at the majesty of this summer-like environment. Knowing that June is "busting out all over, I need to renew my one word commitment to enjoy life.

"It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside."  - Maud Hart Lovelace 

Three reading women in a summer landscape by Johan Krouthen, 1908

So what is summering to me? It is savoring stilled golden moments (as seen above in the artwork), time to enjoy the sounds of nature and the ebb and flow of the ocean, and inhale the scent of flowers. It is also a time to relax, barbecue, and enjoy life with family and friends. 

Ecclesiastes 11: 7-8 reminds me to delight in the light of day, while acknowledging the limitations of life. (AI) On my spiritual journey, there will be stumbling and confusion but hope shall help me find a new path as summer blossoms unfold.

I wake from sleep

stumble to see the light

alone with thoughts

I feel confused

what was once is no longer

yet life moves on

seasons change

the sounds and sights

of June usher in renewal

©CVarsalona, June 2025

Thank you to book lover and writer, Ramona Behnke, for leading our Spiritual Journey community this June with the theme of Summering.

Since time is precious, I am also offering my blog post for Poetry Friday. Thank you to nature poet, author, and photographer, Buffy Silverman, for hosting today's Poetry Friday Roundup. She is reviewing two books: Flurry, Float, and Fly! by Laura Purdie Salas and Wonder Why by Lisa Varchol Perron. You will also see there are many other poets who are sharing their poetic goodness.

Celebrating National Reading Month

Did you know that March is National Reading Month! 

March was chosen to honor Dr. Seuss's birthday. 

When I was a child, I fell in love with reading and libraries. There were so many to choose from in my city's grand public library. It was a magnificent structure in downtown Syracuse, NY that opened my eyes to magical wonders. The stacks in the children's library were filled with books about faraway places and times. I spent hours mulling over the precious publications and always walked away with a new stack of books.

But that library was not the only one that amazed me. Each summer when I visited my Nonnie in Rome, NY, we would spend time walking to the library. My love for reading increased with age. It's not surprising that booklove was one of the reasons why I studied to become a reading specialist. 

My first classroom had a small area for books nestled in the corner of the cafeteria. My high school students were not readers but I had an intense desire to introduce them to the pleasures of reading. From there, I was asked to start a reading program for 7th graders in another impoverished setting. My love for books continued to grow as did the libraries I shared with K-12th grade students. To entice the elementary students to read, I offered schoolwide read alouds during holiday times. The teachers and I celebrated Dr. Seuss' birthday on March 2nd wearing Cat in the Hat hats and reading to students. Then, after 25 years in classrooms as a reading specialist, I moved to central administration as a districtwide director of language arts. In that capacity, I was able to open libraries for classroom teachers in each of the 5 elementary schools. Now, I enjoy reading to my grandgirls with books I have collected over the years.      

Heartnote to Students

books

open doors

to new pathways

enlighten, delight, and become

bestfriends

books

reach out

to all ages

as guides into literacy

learning

books

ignite imagination

offering content and

creative illustrations for story

love

love

comes in

many forms

books offer pleasure, intrigue,

heartthrobs

©CVarsalona, February 2024

Elfchen poems

I am celebrating the month of March by reading and writing daily. I am also celebrating my six-year-old year-old grandgirl's accomplishment as a reader. As a first-grade student, she reads fluently and enjoys chapter books now. I applaud all the parents who read to their child/children when they are little and continue to enjoy the pleasure of family reading at bedtime. 

Once again I  am sliding into Day 16 of the 2024 Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Story Challenge before the midnight hour clocks in.2024 Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Day 16

Summer on My Mind

Memories of childhood summers with my Nonnie stir in my heart each summer. The smell of her rose gardens, the flapping sounds of clean wash swinging in the wind, or the snap-crackle sound from shucking peas, plus the walking trips to the library flash in my mind. 

summer on my mind

fragrant, nature-indulged days

slip sliding in peace

©CV, 2022

Thanks to Fran Haley's slice of life, Eternal summer: memoir poem, all the wonder of summer days come flowing back. Her inclusion of sensory details to evoke the spirit of her childhood summer days, set me on a path to uncover the true song of summer, a line from her reflective poem.

when July winds breeze through, the

sounds of summer ring true

rain sings her swishing song 

bees swoop into the core of

petunias where they belong-ah summer

sweet, lingering days of summer

I smell the fragrant basil and mint of

lavish gardens lulled by fountain song

I find peace at July's end, the true

essence of summer flows in the

reminders of summers I knew

Continue to play your sweet tune, summer.

I wait for your lazy, hazy days of August

to wash away pressures.

©CV, 2022 draft

🌞

If you also have summer on your mind listen to Summer Breeze by Seals and Croft

It's Poetry Friday and I am celebrating summer with Mary Lee Hahn, our host. She is using a clunker line from Linda Mitchell that recalls memories of her mother cooking green beans. Join me to find more poetic goodness from the Poetry Friday community here.

Collage created by Linda Mitchell