Cherry Pie


Dear Priscilla Bennett Friends,

I hope you had a peaceful Father’s Day. Saturday night, Reilly and I had an early Father’s Day celebration for Harry. He loved the cheese soufflé and Father’s Day cards. “Pris, you’re the best, thank you, sweetheart—and you too, Reilly,” he gave him a pat. Reilly got an extra helping of his organic carrot treats along with a few sniffs and licks of Harry’s finished soufflé plate—then for a nap on his cushion while we watched sports. Tennis is one of our favorites, and in between lobs, we could hear Reilly’s gentle snore. I say, “gentle,” because in comparison to Harry’s, it’s a soft purr, but when the two of them get going in contrapuntal, it beats the Boston Symphony Orchestra. In the program notes of the last concert I went to, “contrapuntal” was defined as being two or more independent melodic lines, and I love that image.

On Sunday, I brought my homemade cherry pie along with an extra blueberry in case the men were starving, to my daughter Jennifer’s house where twelve of us shared a wonderful Father’s Day. My three daughters are married and have children. Their husbands are good fathers and deserve to be celebrated—I have no complaints—I only care about my girls’ happiness. I held my baby grandson, John—now four months old, and he fit naturally in my arms as if I had gone from holding my first to this without a pause.

Thank you, my Priscilla Bennett Friends, for listening and for all your support. Please visit my website at and read this blog, make a comment, write your own story and get helpful information. Remember the Priscilla Bennett Pledge to help someone by starting a conversation, giving a kind word in the grocery store or parking lot—a touch on the shoulder. We all have SOMETHING TO BE BRAVE FOR.

You are in my thoughts,