Some of you might recall that my Aunt Marie passed away last November.  She was 81 and she had a wonderful life.  She was my mom's sister and we had a very close relationship.  We were also alike in many ways.  Since only 4% of the people in the world have Type AB blood, even as a child, I was somehow fascinated with the fact that both of us had that blood type.  There were many other areas in which we were alike.  We both loved to travel, loved to read, couldn't sit still and watch TV without doing some type of handwork.  Be it knitting, counted cross stitch, whatever.  Both of us enjoyed the same kind of crafts.  We also both loved to dance, enjoyed much of the same music, loved socializing and being with people. 

She's been gone 9 months now and just this week I found out something about my aunt that I never realized.  Like me.......she also loved to write.  And the way I found this out was from the stack of travel journals that she'd kept from all her major trips, starting in 1959.

I always knew she had these journals.  They were kept upstairs on a book shelf. In the den of the house she'd lived in for 50 years in Salem, Mass.  When I'd ask her something about a place she'd visited, she'd usually say, "Gosh, I can't remember.  Go upstairs and check one of the travel books."  Sometimes I'd grab one and quickly glance through it, but usually I didn't.

So when the time came four years ago for me to go to Salem and clean out that house and put it up for sale, one of the things I couldn't bear to part with were her travel books.  As a writer, I felt the words we leave behind are very important.  They mean something.  And someday they may mean a lot to somebody.  Even though I figured they were simply just weather reports, shopping she'd done, souvenirs she'd purchased while on vacation.

I can't explain why, but this past week I've been drawn to what was my aunt's bedroom when she lived here with us and is now my guest room.  I haven't gone through the drawers in her bureaus or desk.  I pretty much know what's in there, since I put most of the stuff away for her when we moved in here two years ago.  But this past week I was drawn to her travel journals.  And I decided to sit down to read them.  Really read them.  What a wonderful discovery I made.  I discovered that my aunt wrote about way more than simply weather reports.  Many times she gave in-depth descriptions of what she saw and what she experienced.  I discovered my aunt was, in fact......a writer.

In 1959 her and my uncle flew to the Canadian Rockies, which was their first major trip since marrying in 1946.  From there, over fifty years of marriage, they had literally traveled around the world.  From Bermuda to Fiji and everywhere in-between.  A few things that I read made me shake my head at the uncanniness of it.  When she was in Kyoto, she wrote, "We also visited the 230 year old Lungshan Temple.  A Buddhist temple dedicated to the worship of the goddess, Kuan Yin."

Some of you may recall that last year I purchased a lovely statue of the goddess Kuan Yin.  And she sits on a shelf here above my desk to give me inspiration.  How ironic that my aunt visited that temple. And I had no knowledge of that.  Not until I read it in her travel journal. 

The lamps that I now have in my family room.....I read in the journal about the day they purchased them in Manila and had them shipped home.  I read of her descriptions about the River Kwai and "10% of the people live by the water, which is very badly polluted. They swim in it, work, also wash clothes and throw garbage into it.  Some even drink it."  In 1971 in Agra she wrote, "Dear God, what a sight to see" as she described a boat excursion on the River Ganges, telling how the people bathe in the water with soap, brush their teeth, and then take the water home in pots to drink and cook with.  She captured the beauty and the sordidness with her words.

I also keep travel journals.  Always have.  So I was surprised to discover that my aunt did something I always do.  In the back of her books were a list of names she wanted to send postcards to.  Not wanting to forget and leave somebody out, she listed the names in advance.  I do the very same thing.

But in addition to discovering that my aunt enjoyed writing her emotional descriptions and impressions of all that she saw, I found a week's worth of entries from April of 1995.  When my aunt and I went to Paris and enjoyed a wonderful week together. I don't recall her making those journal entries, but she did.  It's all there.  Everything we did, where we went, what we saw.  It brought tears to my eyes to think that was her last major trip.  The one she took with me to Paris.  And at the end of those entries, she wrote, "What a wonderful trip back to Paris with my dear Theresa." 

So what kind of memories will you leave behind for somebody someday?  No, none of us may be NY Times best selling authors......but you know what?  If you write....if you write your ordinary thoughts, impressions, opinions and dreams.....some day somebody might read those and be just as moved and filled with love as I've been all week reading my aunt's travel journals.

See you here next time...........

Remember when autograph books were the rage?  I bet I had 3 or 4 in grade school.  It almost became like a popularity contest of sorts.....which girl could get all the pages filled.  And during the mid-50's they even came out with "autograph hounds."  A stuffed beagle-looking dog, complete with ink pen and your friends would sign it.  I had one of those too.  Unfortunately, both the books and dog are long gone.

However, 3 years ago when I was emptying my aunt's house for sale, I was quite surprised to come across HER autograph book.  To be honest, I had no clue they were around before I was born.  And leave it to my aunt.....she'd saved everything.  Thank goodness she had a very large home in which to store her treasures and I was delighted when I found it.

I love it and I really enjoyed reading through it.  Here's what she put on the inside cover....

August of 1941.....So my aunt was 15 years old (to turn 16 in October) and she'd left the farm in New Hampshire to go live with her Aunt Anna in the "big" city of Salem, Mass.  And August of 1941 was four months before Pearl Harbor.  So despite the war, the going without, those sad telegrams arriving at people's homes, my aunt was a typical fifteen-year old.  Having her friends sign her book.  She has quite a few pages filled and I have no doubt that my aunt was quite popular in her day.......One of the entries I especially love reads, "Marie, Marie...Oh! I can see...A wonderful future ahead of thee."  That person was right....my aunt did have a very special life.

So did you have an autograph book?  Or did you sign some?  And what are some of the little "rhymes" or entries that were popular then?  The one that comes to mind for me and I'm sure I probably signed a million times in my friends books was.....

Remember M

Remember E

Put them together.....and remember me.

Even today....all these years later.....that little verse is still pretty relevant, isn't it?  See you tomorrow.......

Kids can be downright cruel, can't they?  I'm not a mean person by nature.  Actually, quite the opposite.  But hey, I was no exception to the occasional bouts of meanness.

In 1954 when my dad got transferred with GE in the Boston area to Ohio, I was in the middle of second grade.  Bad enough starting a new school at 7 years old, but it was January.  So I didn't have the advantage of being there from that first day when friendships are developed.  But one little girl in particular took it upon herself to be my friend.  That was Mary Ann.....and yes, over fifty years later, we're still close friends.

As an adult I look back and am impressed with how my mother avoided spoiling me, despite the fact I was an only child.  She insisted that I share my toys, etc.  But that doesn't mean that I was immune from the typical childhood incidents of being mean. 

Birthday parties weren't a popular thing back in the late 50's....certainly not like today where kids are taken to roller skating rinks, restaurants, etc. with their friends.  When I turned 11, my mother had said I could invite my girlfriends and have a party at the house.  I invited 9 girls......all except Mary Ann.  The photo above shows all the smiling faces.....mine being in the first row, third from the left.  But I look at this photo today and I think "brat." 

Apparently I'd had a tiff with Mary Ann and decided the best way to "get back" was to exclude her from my party.  And I did.  I can't even recall her feelings when she found out or if we even ever discussed it the following week at school.  And then......then I shoved it to the back of my mind and forgot about it.

Until about 10 years ago when Mary Ann came to visit me here in Florida.  Without any siblings, Mary Ann has always been my touchstone to my childhood, so of course we discussed various anecdotes of those growing up years.  Then she mentioned my birthday party.....I'd honestly completely forgotten about that incident.  But as soon as she started talking about it, it all vividly came flooding back to me.  It was obvious that I'd hurt her very deeply (as only an 11 year old girl can be hurt) but I heard no anger in her words.  It was also obvious to me that she'd forgiven me.  So as an adult, after all those years I apologized and said I was sorry for being such a brat.  Then I became curious and asked her, "HOW could you still speak to me after that?"  She laughed.  And she said, "I just wanted to be your friend."  Like being friends was much more important to her than the meanness I'd displayed. 

I'm glad she forgave me......but I look at this photo, all these years later, and I feel very sad that Mary Ann's smiling face isn't in the group.  Yup......kids can be downright mean.  Did I stir some childhood memories for you?

See you tomorrow............

Ever since I got my first computer 8 years ago, I've been wondering about a childhood friend.  I know that the Internet has brought about some remarkable reunions.  And today's my turn to give it a shot.....It was 1954, my father had been transferred with GE from the Boston area to the Evendale plant outside of Cincinnati.  We lived in Reading in a very nice apartment complex called Canterbury Gardens.  I was infatuated with the family who lived in the next building......They had left their native home of Czechoslovakia to make a new life in America. They spoke perfect English and I loved their accent, the parents and their 2 sons and 2 daughters.  Zdena was the oldest and my age and we were in second grade together at SS Peter & Paul School.  She had a sister Dagmar, a brother Peter and I don't remember the other boy's name.

Zdena and I became the best of friends, we made our First Communion together and I was heartbroken when a few years later we were told the family was moving......to California.  I recall my mother keeping in touch with the family via Christmas cards every year for a few years and then the exchanges ceased.  I've thought about my childhood friend so often and wondered.....where is she at?  Did she marry?  Have children?  Take on a career?  Where is she and how is she?  Her name is pronounced with the hard sound of "Z".....Zden-nah....short "e".  As I look at her name now, I wonder if she ever possibly "Americanized" it and began calling herself "Dena".....long "e."

Here I am (on the right) with Zdena (center) and her younger sister, Dagmar in 1955 at my 8th birthday party.

Does she look familiar to you?  Have you ever known anybody with her name?  I'm met a lot of people since then, and I've never met another person with that name.

Did your sister, girlfriend, daughter or friend ever mention knowing somebody that fit this description?  Or possibly the description of Dagmar or Peter?

Hey, the Internet can be a very small place at times.....we're all woven together like a huge tapestry.  So I thought I'd try my luck......maybe, just maybe, I'll find Zdena again after over 50 years!  And what a reunion that would be!  Catching up on a lifetime.

See you tomorrow......