RichardHowe.com – Voices from Lowell & Beyond

‘Olympia restaurant’: New poem by Michael Casey

Olympia restaurant

by Michael Casey

here with a high school

friend Panos

and the restaurant is

in the Greek

neighborhood

in Lowell and in a far

corner are two elderly ladies

Panos excuses himself

and goes to say hello

to these homegirls

and the ladies

eventually recognize

him

as Soc’s son   Peter

and these ladies are

positively

effusively gaga over

meeting Peter

after so many  years

he returns to the table

and I say   trying to be

facetious

it’s clear it’s not

every day those ladies

meet a son of Socrates

and Peter’s blasé about

it

not one that buys them

lunch anyway

© 2026 by Michael Casey

Michael Casey, right, being interviewed by Doug Holder, Somerville Cable TV, 2018

The author of several collections of poetry including There It Is: New & Selected Poems, Mill Rat, and the award-winning Obscenities (drawn from his military service in the Vietnam War era), Michael Casey grew up in Lowell and is a distinguished alumnus of the public high school. A graduate of Lowell Technological Institute in physics, he earned a master’s degree in creative writing at SUNY Buffalo, now the State University of Buffalo in NY. He lives in Andover, Mass.

Nana

Nana

By Leo Racicot

Our beloved Nana. Her name was Adele but everybody called her Lena. My friend, David Bowles used to get a kick out of that. I still do. Nana was born in Alexandria, Egypt. As young girls, she and her twin sister, Mariam, emigrated to Paris where they both entered the convent. Mariam took her vows and Nana, realizing the religious life wasn’t for her, left Europe for America to Lowell where she met the man she would marry, Raef, a barber. They were to have four children, the youngest of whom was our mother, Edna (called Topsy). Even as a child, I found Nana so interesting, like no one else I knew in my young life; she spoke several languages which held her in good stead making her way in the melting pot that was Lowell in those days. (It’s still a melting pot but in different ways now). I credit my lifelong love of languages to her, sitting with her on our porch in summers, she, teaching me the foreign words she knew, having me repeat them, fine-tuning my pronunciation. I loved biking up to The Highlands, the section of the city she and our Aunt Marie, lived in, helping her in the kitchen, sitting beside her in the parlor, she, teaching me how to make carnations from pink tissue paper, telling me stories of “the old country”. I liked that she hailed from a place as exotic as Alexandria. I wanted so badly to know more about that ancient city and the life she’d led there. I used to seek out books about Alexandria, especially Lawrence Durrell’s The Alexandria Quartet, a masterful piece of storytelling if ever there was one, much more satisfying than Proust, in my opinion. She talked less to me about Paris though one time, at her home, she asked me if I’d like to see a photo of her twin. She took me into her darkened bedroom, opened a bureau drawer, opened the lid of a box and took out a photo of a dead nun laid out in her casket! I had nightmares for a week. I honestly think had I not come of age in her kind, gentle light, I might have turned out to be a serial killer or some such, so frightening and twisted were the other aspects of my young life. In a poem, I once wrote were the lines: If I was a boat that might drift out to sea, Nana was the harbor that waited for me.

She died in the year of the Bicentennial a couple of days after her Patriots Day birthday at the age of 88. I wouldn’t attend her services; it was too painful seeing the lid close on her life, a life I saw as a testament to her accepting, uncomplaining grace.

____________________

Nana on the porch

Nana and Leo (the author)

Seen & Heard: Vol. 16

Museum Visit: Massachusetts Historical Society – Last Friday I had an early appointment in Boston so when that was finished, I went to the Massachusetts Historical Society at 1154 Boylston Street which is not far from the Prudential Center. I’ve long been aware of the organization but had never visited its headquarters. My purpose for going now was to see an exhibit called “1776: Declaring Independence” which was excellent. The highlight was various copies of the Declaration of Independence including hand-written versions created by the hands of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson for their own use, and an early version of the Declaration – Jefferson’s first draft – which proposed the abolition of slavery. The committee overseeing the draft wanted nothing to do with that and forced it to be removed from the final version. My favorite artifact on display was a small brass cannon which had been used by US troops at the Battle of New Orleans during the War of 1812. The cannon had found its way after the war to the Manchester-By-The-Sea home of William Saltonstall. Originally displayed in the Saltonstall living room, the family began dragging it outside and used it to fire wooden croquet balls into the Atlantic Ocean. When Mass Historic eventually came into possession of it, several of the balls were stuck inside the gun. The sign next to this artifact quotes one of the Saltonstalls as saying, “Every historical society should have a cannon” which is a noble sentiment. The Massachusetts Historical Society is at 1154 Boylston Street in Boston and is open at various times – check its website for those – for viewing of the exhibit. Entry is free although you have to get buzzed in by the receptionist.  

Book Review: Battle Green Vietnam: The 1971 March on Concord, Lexington, and Boston by Elise Lemire (2021). This is a fascinating account of a protest action over Memorial Day weekend in 1971 by local chapters of Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW). Lemire, a Professor of Literature at Purchase College, State University of New York (SUNY) with family ties to Lowell, interviewed many of the people involved including veterans, local residents, and public officials. This yields a compelling story for anyone interested in the Vietnam War but also for people involved in local government or in participating in collective protests. Memorial Day in 1971 was the first to occur after Congress passed Monday Holiday legislation. Taking advantage of the three day weekend, the VVAW framed themselves as the progeny of the American colonists who fought the British in 1775. The three-day action began at North Bridge in Concord on Friday where the veterans stayed overnight. On Saturday, they marched in patrol formation to Lexington’s Battle Green intending to stay the night there. While the National Park Service had given wink-and-nod permission at North Bridge – “you can’t camp there but if you stay all night, we’re not going to bother you” – Lexington Green was under the jurisdiction of the Lexington Board of Selectmen and they drew a line in the sand against an overnight stay. Understanding that non-violent confrontation would yield more attention to their cause than strict compliance with the rules, the veterans remained on the Green all night, or at least until two busloads of police arrived and arrested several hundred veterans and their supporters. The police chief, in his interview with the author, stressed that he ordered his officers not to resort to violence in conducting the arrests. This was consistent with the attitude of the veterans who saw the arrests as a positive development. All prisoners were transported to the town DPW garage where they were held for the rest of the night. Then, in a special Sunday session at the Concord District Court, the judge dismissed for all defendants the misdemeanor disorderly conduct charges and imposed a $5 fine for trespassing. The hundreds of supporters outside the court took up a collection and paid the fines. Supporters then car-pooled the veterans to Charlestown where they marched to the Bunker Hill Monument to spend Sunday night. They were not surprised that the more liberal and affluent suburbanites of Concord and Lexington had supported their cause, but were concerned that working class Charlestown which had contributed many young men to the Vietnam War would have a different response. However, the response there was quite positive which may have reflected eroding support for the war. After spending a peaceful night at Bunker Hill, the veterans marched to Boston Common for some closing ceremonies. 

Obituary: “Norman Bussel, 102, Who Helped Explain Veterans’ Trauma, Dies” by Clay Risen in The New York Times – In April 1944, Bussel was a 19-year old crew member on a B-17 heavy bomber based in England. On his third mission over Germany, his plane was shot down by antiaircraft fire and he became a POW. He was held in atrocious conditions but survived the war, but afterwards carried with him nightmares, claustrophobia and survivor guilt which led him to alcoholism. After many painful years, he began communicating with other former POWs and realized their experiences were alike. This led him to write about his experience and become an advocate of others, with his efforts contributing to the recognition of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a serious condition. Back to 1944, while Bussel made it out of the B-17, not everyone did. One crew member who perished in the crash was 24 year old Vasilios Mpourles who lived at 70 West Fifth Street in Lowell with his widowed father and three brothers. His father was born in Greece and worked in a cotton mill while Vasilios drove a milk truck before joining the service. He is buried in Lorraine American Cemetery in France. 

Newspaper Article: “At 94, a Champion with 935 Victories Seeks No Validation” by Jason Quick in The Athletic – This story, about former NBA coach Dick Motta, is not an obituary. Instead, it was prompted by the failure of the NBA to select Motta for its Hall of Fame this year. This leaves Motta as the coach with the most career victories to not be in the Hall. I don’t recall hearing Motta’s name or thinking of him for 30 years, but seeing this story triggered some good memories about my youthful enjoyment of the National Basketball Association in the 1970s. Motta’s first pro coaching job was in 1968 with the Chicago Bulls. He won the NBA championship with the Washington Bullets in 1978, then finished up with several other teams before retiring in 1997 with the Denver Nuggets. Now, Motta lives in Idaho (he’s a native of Utah) and is the primary caregiver of his wife of 70 years who has dementia. He told the reporter he is not bitter about the Hall snub, but his comments suggest otherwise. The article was most poignant when Motta recalled that all five starters from the 1978 championship team are deceased as is the star of Motta’s first team, which won a high school championship. I began the article to revive memories of Celtic glory days with John Havlicek, Dave Cowens, Jo Jo White, and others, but finished it with a reminder of how quickly life passes.

Newspaper Nooks and Crannies

Newspaper Nooks and Crannies – (PIP #103)

By Louise Peloquin

To add and to end with the March 24^th topic, a few more phrases from L’Etoile’s nooks and crannies. (1)

• A grandiose coquette is the woman who states that she is not so. (January 23, 1926)
• The mind searches; the heart finds. ( January 9, 1926)
• There would be more January poets if there were more romantic words to rhyme with “slush.” (January 2, 1926)
• From time to time, our old souls need to live with the memories of childhood. (January 8, 1926)
• No disgust, no discouragement, if you fail, recommence. – Marcus Aurelius (March 1, 1926)
• Examine your promise well. Is it just? Can you honor it? A promise must not be retracted. – Chinese proverb (March 1, 1926)
• You moan about your misfortunes. If you considered what others suffer, you would complain quietly. – Chilion (March 1, 1926)
• One’s entire life is made up of the past since everything dies and falls into it. It is the marvelous survival of that which, despite us, has fled. – J. Mortal (March 1, 1926)
• The real way to know nothing is to learn everything simultaneouly. – Georges Sand (January 4, 1926)

To end with a smile, a last newspaper space-filler.

•  “How old do you think I am?”
• “Twenty at the very most.”
• “Oh my, how sweet you are!”
• “Aren’t I? When a woman asks me her age I always respond half of what I think.” (March 2, 1926)

(2)

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1. Spaces for Wise Phrases – PIP #101: https://richardhowe.com/2026/03/24/spaces-for-wise-phrases/
2. Translations by Louise Peloquin.