Member-only story
THE WIND PHONE
Growing up on the Piano Bench
How will our lives unfold from the magic of childhood?
Easter was a big deal in my family. When we were young, my parents packed us in the clunky blue station wagon and made the marathon trip from New York to my grandparents' sprawling house in Boston.
It was an exhaustive undertaking for my mother, who actually made our outfits herself. One year, she made chiffon dresses with flouncy petticoats and matching hats.
When we arrived in Boston, we were breathless awaiting the arrival of our cousins. My brother was the lookout for their car and let out a bellowing alert when their car pulled into the driveway. My Aunt Anne looked exhausted. She had just finished eight gorgeous pies. They were still steaming.
In her haste to get out of the car, my 4-year-old cousin Mary Beth miscalculated her leap and landed her new Mary Jane shoes splat into two of the pies. She was so rattled that she jumped again and took out two more. My Aunt Anne slumped down in the front seat and sobbed.
Whenever anyone tried to make things better, they didn’t. It didn’t help that my grandmother was critical of the way my aunt had packed the pies, intimating that my mother would have done a better job, thereby blaming her for the entire…
