Category Archives: Beginnings

Feb 11 2017
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Beginnings, Transitions

My Father

My dad passed away peacefully not long past midnight, the 9th of February. He’d had a rough few weeks, but we all got to spend some time with him that night, my mom, my sister, and Seth and me. We each got to kiss him goodnight, we each got to say I love you, and he told us he loved us and he thanked us. “Thank you,” the words most constant on his lips lately, and I realize that this is one of many things I’ve learnt from my father. Three hours later, while he was sleeping, his heart stopped beating, and so he left this world.

Up until this afternoon, it never crossed my mind to share this news with you here. But there was an event at work today––one of many through the year that my mom and dad and sister have often participated in. Even a few days ago, Dad talked about going to this one today. And today’s was a big one. I had set too many wheels in motion and I couldn’t not be there, I couldn’t leave all the tasks to my coworkers. And to my surprise, my mom and my sister decided they wanted to be there, too. And this was good. We three were together, and we saw so many people we know, and we spent the day crying a bit, but mostly laughing and telling stories. And eating. The coffee was good, and there were doughnuts, really good ones. And this is what we do, after all, in my family: we laugh, we cry, we talk, and very often the coffee pot accompanies this. This is why there are easily over a dozen percolators and coffee pots in my mom’s kitchen, and almost as many in mine.

I spoke with so many people today who are Convivio Book of Days readers. We spoke about my dad. I realized we are family, too, you and me. (My great grandparents, Raffaele and Maria, welcome all of you at our ABOUT page: How can we not be family?) It became apparent that I had to tell you. And so I will: Dad entered this world in peace and he left it in peace, and who can ask for more than this; this and the blessing of love and understanding at home. Home and family were everything to him, the greatest riches, and he had these things abundantly. We miss him and we will miss him always. But rest assured there will be stories. Dad loved to tell his stories, and always he told them as if it was the first time anyone had ever heard them. That used to bug me sometimes, back when I was less appreciative. But as we all grew older, I loved that about him, that he could be excited about old old stories and tell them over and over again with fresh enthusiasm each time. And now I guess it’s up to me to make sure you hear them. I’m sure you will, if you keep reading: I won’t be able to stop myself from telling them, especially if you put the coffee on.

And so we keep the embers burning, we keep the wheel of the year turning, we keep the ones we love always at our side. We celebrate together. No matter what.

Angelo John Cutrone
May 18, 1926 – February 9, 2017

 

The photo above is by Charles Pratt. It was taken on my wedding day. You’re stuck with us, I guess: My sister, me, Seth, my mom, and my dad… and all the ones who came before us.

 

Oct 26 2013
7 Comments
Beginnings

Johnny loves pumpkins

Pumpkins

Seth and I work well together. In the case of the Convivio Bookworks website or this, our new Convivio Book of Days blog, Seth is the one who designs the whole thing, and then he hands it over to me. But he does have to get things started, and he is the one who actually began this initial posting. His test post included a photo and a few words. The photograph is of our first successful pumpkin harvest in Maine from one of our big gardening years, circa 1998 or so. The words? A caption, of sorts: Johnny loves pumpkins.

He’s right; I do love pumpkins. A couple of years prior to that photo, during my summer book arts internship printing with Brother Arnold Hadd at the Shaker Press at Chosen Land, the Shaker Community at Sabbathday Lake, Maine, my days often included tasks outside of the print shop: haying, for instance, or weeding the garden. I loved weeding the pumpkin patch best. Something about those trailing vines, those green leaves, the bees in the blossoms, and of course, the ripening pumpkins themselves, set me off to daydreaming. I’d be there, close to earth and vine, breathing the spiced summer air, thinking, writing in my head. The pumpkin patch, to me, spoke of great possibility. It’s a place that begins with a handful of seeds. Sure, there is soil and water and sunlight and good compost at the heart of the conversion of those seeds into big, beautiful pumpkins… but perhaps a little magic is involved, too. A touch of alchemy: the alchemy of the everyday.

Seth may have just been setting up the initial framework for this blog when he typed his words, but Johnny loves pumpkins is, I think, a great beginning for us. It’s his handful of pumpkin seeds. This project is very much about possibility and the alchemy of the everyday and certainly about the ceremony of the everyday. So let’s keep it at that and together, we’ll see what comes of it.

John