1173 Avon Blvd

Memories are as fluid as the morning mist over a meadow. I have looked upon the meadow often enough to have each aspect of it's nature in my minds eye and yet there are mornings when the mist plays upon it in such a way that it is all unfamiliar to me. When my parents where alive, they would tell the tale of my first trip to the corner store so often that I truly believed I could remember each detail of it. Over the years I have recreated that memory in my mind the way it must have happened from the experiences of the ensuing years.

Easter mornings were always a whirlwind of activity. To this day I can still inhale my mothers hairspray and my fathers aftershave as we all prepared ourselves for our ritual relative hopping. An hour with aunt Peg and the Bula's. A quick stop by Great Grandmother Whealan in the convelecent home. Pick up my Mother's mother Nanny and say hi to Aunt Mary, Harry, Cathy and Harold. Then off to Grandma and Granddad Smith's when they lived on Pine street in Middletown Connecticut.