My Hebrew scholar

The wedding we attended was in St. Joseph's Cathedral in Wheeling, W.Va.

Once my son determined we wouldn't be leaving for some time, he settled in to look at the ornate statues and colorful frescoes. I thought he seemed most impressed by the elaborately painted ceiling and 140-foot high dome.

But then he leaned over to his Daddy and I heard him ask, "Daddy, why are there Hebrew letters on the ceiling?"

Sure enough, up with some angels in a blue sky were the gilded Hebrew letters: yud, hey, vav, hey.

The wedding

My oldest cousin's son, Michael, married yesterday.

Attending his sixth wedding in four years, I found my son to be poised and confident when participating in family traditions such as the bridal dance and more common traditions such as the throwing of the garter.

My son didn't hesitate to throw his dollar bill into the family's old yellow Dan Dee potato chip can and wait in line for his turn to dance with the bride.

He snatched up the garter after it landed on the floor in front of a group of much older young men, some already engaged, who weren't so enthusastic about catching it.

If you believe in tradition -- that whoever catches the garter will be the next to marry -- the young men in our families are going to have a long wait. When we got home that night, my son informed me, "Momma, I'm not going to get married until after I grow up."

The toy museum

Glen Dale, W.Va., where I grew up, was once home to the Marx Toy Factory, makers of the original Big Wheel, Rock'em Sock'em Robots, Johnny and Jane West action dolls and other toys of my childhood.

We toured the Marx Toy Museum in the neighboring town of Moundsville yesterday, and I was rocketed back in time. "I used to play with that," I found myself telling my son. "Your Uncle Mike had one of those," and "Your Daddy used to play with those."

He was entertained by it all and particularly enjoyed knocking the "block" off my robot.

A note to my cousins: They had the same dollhouse furniture we played with in our grandma's basement and those tiny cases of Coca-Cola that fit into the pop delivery truck she had in her garage.

The Indian burial mound

Originally called Elizabethtown, Moundsville changed its name to recognize the large Adena Indian burial mound, circa 200 B.C.E., in the center of town.

My husband, son, mother and I climbed to the top of the 69-foot-tall mound this week. Once there, we looked down on the buildings and landscape. I pointed out where my father had worked, where I attended elementary school and the bridge across the Ohio River, construction of which claimed my grandmother's house.

My mother, just shy of 80, announced that this would be the last time she climbed the mound. We took photos to mark the occasion.