In recent years I’ve been thinking that my birthday should also—and probably more importantly—be a second Mother’s Day. After all, mother planned and prepared for the day, labored through the event, and of the two of us, she actually remembered my birthday. So, on this December 14th, I’m remembering my mother, Esther Brigman Ferguson (1909-1995)…
Back from one of his summer explorations, Adrian yelled, “Leland, get the bucket!” At nine I still aspired to be my brother’s side kick–Robin to his Batman–but at sixteen he didn’t play Batman anymore. He seemed most interested in bossing me around. “Leland, get the bucket! Come on!” “Where’s the bucket?” “In the basement, get it and wait,…
When I was a boy, my father’s distant cousin Maude was the most unusual person I had ever seen. I suppose Maude was in her late teens or early twenties during those years of the early 1950s. I would see her when we went to funerals and reunions at my grandmother’s country church in rural North…
Posted March 20, 2020 When I was quite young, about first-grade age, I remember our family having dessert every evening after supper. It seemed one night we would have lemon meringue pie–my very favorite–next chocolate, then my father’s favorite, apple pie, and so on. And, Jello, we had it with supper as part of a…
Posted February 17, 2020 Esther Mae Brigman Ferguson May 16, 1909 – February 17, 1995 My mother was largely responsible for my becoming an archaeologist. When I was a child, she encouraged my roaming the woods and fields by paying attention to all the things I brought back—from arrowheads to dead crows. In response to my…