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Oysterville Daybook Archives

They come in a boring cardboard box…

They come in a boring cardboard box…

Anyone who knows Nyel very well knows that he loves chocolate -- the darker the better.  Me... not so much.  Especially not the darkest kind.  However, there is a special place in my heart for Dilettante Chocolates (especially the Not Dark ones)...

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My Uncle Wede,  Raconteur and Word Man

My Uncle Wede, Raconteur and Word Man

In same ways, my uncle Willard Espy had a checkered career -- as in a number of disparate jobs.  But all of them, one way or another, had to do with writing.  Now he is remembered mostly for his books on wordplay, or if you live around this neck of...

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Cousins Come Calling!

Cousins Come Calling!

Yesterday was a Red Letter Day at our house.  The Schreiber Cousins came calling!  Seeing them seated around our table (with all its leaves pressed into service!) made my heart sing!  I could almost hear our Espy forebears humming along from on...

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The Scribbling Aunts

The Scribbling Aunts

My cousin Mona sent me some of her (as yet unpublished) children's stories to read.  They arrived by email this morning and I am sorely tempted to drop everything and get to it but my own writing calls so I'll probably leave Mona's treasures for...

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Appreciating Willard Some More!

Appreciating Willard Some More!

I may not have thought so at the time, but one of the enduring gifts that my uncle Willard Espy gave me was a sense of stewardship of "the family papers."  That's what we all called those boxes and boxes (about 100 of them eventually) of documents,...

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Going Gray in Oysterville

Going Gray in Oysterville

It's been seventy years since my Uncle Willard Espy began painting the town red.  Well… maybe not the whole town of Oysterville, but certainly two of the most significant buildings in this little village.  It was 1947, the year of his parents'...

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Convoluted Connections

Convoluted Connections

I've been thinking of Willard lately.  Willard Richardson Espy, my mother's "twin" – well, they were 11 months apart but for all of his 89 years, Willard would write mom on her November 13th birthday and remind her that they were now identical in...

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Enjoying the Begats!

Enjoying the Begats!

Alexander Hamilton, Indian killer, was my grandfather’s great-grandfather, or my father’s great-great-grandfather, or my own great-great-great-grandfather, depending on how you want to put it. His daughter Anna married Tom Espy, who… begat the...

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Playing Second Fiddle

Playing Second Fiddle

I’ve begun to take a better look in the Crosscut file box – the work of Ilwaco High School journalism students in late 1970s. The notes and tapes from twenty interviews of local residents are a treasure trove of recent Peninsula history and, I...

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Election Day 2015

Election Day 2015

Today is Election Day but, somehow, it doesn’t have the same cachet as it did in the years before the mail-in ballot. Now, except for being a day away from finding out the results (maybe), it’s a day like any other day. I miss going to the polls....

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Visiting & Voyeuring, Clapping & Cheering

Visiting & Voyeuring, Clapping & Cheering

My friend Linda-of-Seattle is the best informed person I know. She is always up to the minute on almost any subject that comes up. I’m not quite sure how she manages, but she seems to have time to see the latest films (but also the oldies) and read...

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My Uncle Wede?  Feet of Clay?

My Uncle Wede? Feet of Clay?

  When it comes to writing and storytelling, especially about Oysterville, my uncle Willard Espy has always been my role model. Even before Willard got into the book writing business and certainly long before my own writing interests became...

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