(1950 March 6)
We are marooned on a hill of ice. Car is parked by somebody's mailbox. Father Stewart sounded so discouraged when I phoned him we thot it was too risky to come, but first the snow started to melt, then froze, then snow, then drizzle, then freeze again. We all are getting tired of it.
Polly Kay (1904-1997) vividly and with humor describes her life in Richland Center, Wisconsin, in excerpts from letters to her son Skip written after 1949, including her 5 last years in an old folks' home.
About Me
- Polly
- A lifelong Wisconsinite, Carolyn Parsons (1904-1997)got a B.A. in English at Ripon College, taught high school, and in 1930 married Lorin L. Kay, a lawyer first in Milwaukee and from 1938 on in Richland Center (he died in 1970). Their children: Mary Margaret and Richard/Skip, editor of this blog.
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- Bishop by divine oversight
- Bargaining
- Menu & my table
- Here kitty kitty
- Don't risk it
- Black & blue
- Like it or lump it
- Bad pot luck
- Grace
- Perfect control
- The lost word
- The Algonquin Round Table
- An old joke
- De gustibus
- A transparent fix
- Marooned in March
- The musical fruit
- Mail order catalogs
- Teach him a lesson
- End of the line
- Before laptops
- Gorgeous gourds
- Spring cleaning
- Gingersnaps
- Short circuits
- A Green Day
- The Big M
- A dark & stormy night story
- Never a borrower nor a lender be
- The Rosary
- Conveniences
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