Fond_Memory

One of our favorite summer days was blueberry day.

We’d put on old clothes, our straw hats, then gather our baskets and make our way to the Jones’ Family Farm in Shelton. We’d hitch a ride on the “berry ferry”, and be driven out to the blueberry bushes.

Blueberries are easy to pick and practically popped into our small baskets. When our small baskets were filled, we’d dump them all into the big basket and fill that up. The camera was always on hand.

After the picking, we’d drive to Huntington Center and have lunch and dessert at Sassafras Restaurant.

Artwork by Bruce Zboray    www.bruce-zboray.artistwebsites.com


My grandmother on my father’s side lived with us. Well, it was really her house, so I guess we lived with her. She came from Hungary when my aunt and uncle were very young. She spoke only Hungarian.

Every Sunday she would put on a small, flat brimmed hat, a black floral dress, and walk two miles, to the Russian Orthodox Church, which had seven spires shaped like candles. It looked right out of Russia.

Introduction

My wife really loves Christmas. The spirit of it, and everything about it. So, I wrote her this song.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.

Response from John

The last GEM you just listened to was titled A Carousel Christmas Ride by Phil the Wordsmith.

I wish you were in the studio with us. He nearly broke a tear 2 or 3 times in the performance of that poem. And these are really not poems -their songs.

I am drawn to where the past lingers on, like Sturbridge Village Museum in Massachusetts, where people dress up in yesteryear clothes and character. It is truly amazing how these people fit their parts so well, as if being transported back 300 years.

Seeing the farmer in a long coat shepherding a flock of sheep thru the village green.

Seeing the potter casually spinning a clay pot.

Seeing the tinker making a lantern of tin or a candleholder of pewter.

Seeing how they cook in a hearth with an open fragrant log fire.