Anne
Daughter
Sixty-one years and I had never heard about Buttercup and the hair ribbon. Mom, what else have you been holding out on?
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The life of
Margaret Albright · born April 9, 1941
Grew up in Greene County, Ohio. Lives in Dayton, Ohio.
Farm girl, diner waitress, third-grade teacher for thirty-one years, and the best pie maker in Montgomery County. These are her stories, told to Wren over a year of Sunday afternoons.
Contents
One question a week from Wren. Her answers, lightly edited, with the photos she dug out of the hall closet.
Chapter One1941–1955

Wren asked
What is the first thing you remember?
The first thing I remember is the sound of my father’s boots on the porch. He’d come back from the war when I was four, and for a long time I thought he was a visitor. Mama said I hid behind the stove for a week.
We had forty acres, a dozen cows that all had names, and one goat that thought she was a dog. I was up at five to feed the chickens, and I’d sing to them, because Grandma Ruth said happy hens lay better eggs. I still don’t know if that’s true, but I’ve never stopped singing in the morning.
“I’ve never stopped singing in the morning.”
Chapter Two1959

Wren asked
How did you meet Grandpa Walt?
I was working the late shift at the Starlight the summer after high school. It was pouring rain, and this tall boy came in soaked to the bone, glasses all fogged up, and ordered coffee, black, no sugar. He couldn’t see a thing. He tipped me a whole dollar on a fifteen-cent coffee.
He came back the next night, and the next. On the fourth night I told him if he wanted to keep drinking coffee he’d have to take me to the pictures. We saw Some Like It Hot. He laughed so loud the usher shined a flashlight on us.
“He tipped me a whole dollar on a fifteen-cent coffee.”
Chapter Three1962

Wren asked
Tell me about your wedding day.
We got married at St. Brigid’s on the hottest day in June. My dress was my cousin Dorothy’s, taken in at the waist by my mother at two in the morning. The reception was at the VFW hall: ham sandwiches, punch and a three-piece band that only knew about eleven songs.
When they played Moon River for our first dance, Walt stepped on my foot twice and whispered, ‘I’ll get better at this.’ He did, eventually. It took him about thirty years.
Chapter Four1968–1969

Wren asked
What was a normal day like when the kids were small?
Our house on Wren Avenue had a yellow kitchen that I loved more than any room I’ve ever lived in. Tommy was five and Anne was three, and every Saturday we made pies. By the end there was flour on the ceiling, I’m not exaggerating.
The night the men walked on the moon, Walt woke the kids up and we all sat on the carpet in our pajamas in front of the television. Anne fell asleep in my lap before Armstrong came down the ladder. Tommy has been talking about it ever since.
“By the end there was flour on the ceiling.”
Chapter Five1972–2003

Wren asked
What work are you proudest of?
I went back to school at thirty-one to get my teaching certificate, and everybody thought I was out of my mind. Then I taught third grade at Fairview Elementary for thirty-one years. I worked it out once: about eight hundred children learned to read chapter books in my room.
I still get Christmas cards from some of them. One of them is a judge now. One of them is a grandmother. Every so often someone stops me at the Kroger and says, ‘Mrs. Albright?’ and I feel about ten feet tall.
“About eight hundred children learned to read chapter books in my room.”
Chapter Six1986

Wren asked
What was the best trip you ever took?
With the kids grown, Walt decided we were finally going to see the Grand Canyon in the old Country Squire. Two thousand miles, no air conditioning, one Patsy Cline tape that got stuck in the deck in Oklahoma.
When we got to the rim, neither of us said a word for the longest time. Then Walt said, ‘Well, Peg, it’s a big hole.’ I laughed so hard I had to sit down on the ground. That’s the best thing about a long marriage. You get to keep laughing at the same jokes.
Chapter SevenToday

Wren asked
What do you hope your grandchildren remember about you?
Walt passed in 2019, and I won’t pretend that hasn’t been hard. But I still have my garden, and five grandchildren who call me on the video phone and show me their dogs.
If I want them to remember anything, it’s this: be kind to the person pouring your coffee. You never know, you might marry them. And sing in the morning, even when you don’t feel like it. Especially then.
“Be kind to the person pouring your coffee. You never know, you might marry them.”
Timeline
Reenactments
Nobody photographed Walt walking into the Starlight. So we recreated it from what she told Wren. Every one of these is a recreation, and it says so.
Swipe for more. The short film made from these scenes comes with the Legacy plan.
Her voice
When she tells Wren a story on the phone, it goes on her site the way she told it: the pauses, the laugh before the punchline, the way she says “Walt.”
The written chapters are tidied up for reading. The transcripts are left exactly as spoken.
Chapter Two · Phone call with Wren
This is a picture of the player, so there is no sound here. Recordings are available on the Legacy plan.
Oh, well. It was raining. I mean it was really coming down, and I had the late shift. I always had the late shift.
And in comes this tall boy, soaked right through, and his glasses are all fogged up. He couldn’t see a thing.
He orders coffee. Black, no sugar. Like he’s in a picture show.
And then he leaves me a dollar. A whole dollar! On a fifteen-cent coffee. (laughs)
Wren: What did you think of him, that first night?
I thought, well, either he’s rich or he’s sweet on me. (laughs) Turned out he wasn’t rich.
From the family
Family invited to the site can read along, leave a memory or a photo, and argue about who fell asleep during the moon landing. These notes are part of the sample.
Anne
Daughter
Sixty-one years and I had never heard about Buttercup and the hair ribbon. Mom, what else have you been holding out on?
Tommy
Son
For the record, I was NOT asleep for the moon landing. Anne was asleep. I remember every second.
Peggy You were asleep by the time they planted the flag, Thomas. I carried you to bed.
Jess
Granddaughter
Grandma taught me to sing to her chickens when I was little and I still do it to my sourdough. It hasn’t helped the sourdough either. Love you!!
Danny
Grandson, age 9 · on his mom’s iPad
my favrite story is the big hole one. also i want a goat
Linda Okafor
Third grade, Room 12, 1984 · invited by Anne
Mrs. Albright, you lent me your own copy of Charlotte’s Web because the library one was always checked out. I read it to my kids now. I never gave it back. I’m sorry and also not sorry.
Peggy's stories, told to Wren over a year of Sunday afternoons. Put together with her daughter, Anne. Private, and shared by invitation.

Your turn
Peggy is a sample. Picture this page with your mom's name at the top, or your grandpa's. Wren does the asking. You all get to read it.
Both plans include a private life website and hardcover books. Voice recordings and the film come with Legacy.