We were twins in our depression fueled by genes and channeled into rage.

We battled days and nights until we staggered to our lonely beds, lucky you slept like the dead.

I lay rigid on my cot in the company of Boggiemen hiding in the closet until strands of light let me descend into sleep.

One early morning in the kitchen when dad and my sister were still asleep graces visited for a while.

You declared with a kind of a smile "Dr. Williams and the nursing staff declared you were the most beautiful baby born at Winthrop Community Hospital! Especially your Irish skijump nose!"

Yours was a large Italian nose that you abhorred.

You sipped your tea while I drew a picture of salt and pepper shakers with smiles on their face to match.

The latest poem you were composing was entitled, "the Wedding of Salt and Pepper" and then you sent it along to your editor. ‍

Carol Bianco O'Connell, 1913-1997

My mother started writing poetry and children's stories when I was eight years old. Some of her publications included, Story Parade, Jack and Jill and We Wisdom.

Later in her career she wrote for Dear Seaviewer's, a weekly column for her town paper. In additional she was a gifted pianist and taught music for over thirty years.