The Tallest of Us All

Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • April 25, 2016

William and Maria Mitchell, ca. 1865.

My Dad, decorating the table for Easter 2014. About a week later, he was hospitalized for a massive infection, a side effect of his chemotherapy, that almost killed him.


A short time ago, my nephew finally talked about my Father who died on February 13th this year. He had not mentioned him before that. As my Mother was putting him to bed he said, “Grandpa was the tallest of all of us in the family, right Nana? He had to bend to get under some doors.” He is right. My Dad was the tallest – in many ways. He always stooped or bent his head a bit to the side when he went through a doorway. It was something he did automatically. And living, in a 1750s tavern, reinforced that habit. But he was the tallest too as the heart of our family. He and my Mother together. I love that in his mind’s eye, my nephew sees him as a giant because he was. A giant in our life; a giant in the lives of everyone he touched. You can’t say that about everyone. He was a protector; a quest stable force that so many relied upon, that we relied upon. But he taught us well; I think he gave us a very good map to follow. His guidance is there.


The Mitchell family had the same in their father and mother as well. When Lydia Mitchell died in 1861, Maria and her father, William, were just about all that was left on island of the immediate Mitchell family. They could not take it; they could not remain here without her. It was too painful. And so, in a way, they fled their island home to a small city where they were close to family and friends, but where every turn did not remind them of what they had lost. When she lost her father, she was even more adrift. Maria cared for both of her parents but her father was also her mentor and in many respects a “co-worker.” She felt even more abandoned when she lost him.


Everyone reacts differently. I think that fleeing is just burying your head in a way, but I certainly understand it. I live in the house that my Father designed and that my parents built and it is painful. But I am removed from the Town in which my parents live and our family house and the reminders at every turn – though there are many here on island as well since my time here goes back to the age of one and a half – my Dad to 1964 and my Mom to the 1950s.


JNLF

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Corn Niblets

By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • January 12, 2026
I wrote this several years ago and have re-blogged it but the juncos are so adorable – little puffball corn niblets. And they are ubiquitous during New England winters. We all know I am not an ornithologist. I would liken myself to a very amateur birder. While I worked a great deal with my friend and mentor, Edith Andrews, over the years, particularly on her book, I still am TERRIBLE at shorebirds and warblers. Even harriers and hawks. I grew up watching birds – my parents are birders. My Dad had a primo seat at the bird venue in his study – close to the feeders and the hummingbird feeder right outside the shop keeper’s style window of his study. But (as I tend to do), I digress. What are corn niblets and birds doing in the same blog you wonder? Well, that’s what I think of when I see Dark-eyed Juncos. Their beaks remind me of a piece of a corn kernel – and thus the niblets term. Believe it or not, I had never really seen – or maybe noticed – a Junco until I was in my early 20s and my husband and I were living outside Washington, DC where he was an officer stationed with the US Coast Guard. We had a large second story deck and I was feeding the birds. It was November or December and all these little birds with white-greyish breasts and black backs with little beaks showed up. I called my Mom who said, “That’s’ a Junco!’ And probably also then thought, “Duh.” If you haven’t seen a Junco, they’re absolutely adorable and a harbinger of cold weather around these parts. Last year, I never seemed to glimpse one at all. We seem to have waves from year to year where we have a lot or they are few and far between. But in any case, I was rather excited to see one under my feeder the other day. I went back to look in my bird list and realized I never saw one in 2020 nor in 2021! Now, identification books state they have a pink-ish beak but I always see them more as a yellowy color – maybe it’s my eyes – but it’s really the size that reminds me of a kernel of corn! But take a look and let me know what you think. JNLF

PEACE

By Jascin N. Leonardo Finger • January 5, 2026
As Walt Whitman once wrote, “Peace is always beautiful.” Peace can mean many different things. I have used this Whitman quote above before – my Father loved Whitman. And when I quote Whitman, it makes me feel like my Father is here. Maria and her father, William, were close. In fact, even with a large family of twelve people, the Mitchells were all close. My family is close as well, though we have our moments as most, if not all, families do. As we bring to a close another difficult year in which the world and its people continue to struggle, take a moment to be thankful and to find and give peace. May you always find peace in yourself and peace with others. May our world become more peaceful and may we all learn that this small space we inhabit is shared and meant for everyone. In the echoes of one of my favorite Maria Mitchell quotes, your small step, your small gesture to another or towards helping something happen, can make a difference – more than you think. I’ll end with another quote – and a poem I have used the last few years – that is fitting and that also reminds me of another Whitman poem. JNLF In Memoriam, [Ring out, wild bells] Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 1809-1892  Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.

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