First, the sandwich bag was all wrong. It could be any plastic bag that found its way into the house, usually cradling my Dad’s stiff shirt or the Tribune. These bags were huge, unwieldy and, by the time they reached the cafeteria, sticky inside and out. The sandwich didn’t float out— often the bag would have to be removed from the sandwich.
Even bad ice cream is pretty good. It’s simple, smooth, creamy, and a perfect chocolate delivery system. Sometimes it’s truly great. I confess I’m a bit of an ice cream snob. I’ve been a huge fan of gelato since I personally discovered Italy in 1985: no Gianni-come-lately. Yes I’m happy gelato has come to America, [...]
Which came first: the anger or the Bitch? The Bitch started to move in during the muddle of middle school. My mother groomed her. First, she was a frustrated teen: pushing, hiding, wisecracking, seething and getting by. That’s the girl who needed the theatre so much, who was afraid to speak and wanted someone else [...]
Every girl swears it won’t happen to her. Every young mother is shocked to see the tell-tale signs. “I’m becoming my Mother.” I see it in the friends I look up after so many years, at childrens graduations, in the tears and laughter. I catch some of those trite and untimely phrases as they want [...]
“Laura was a free spirit. I wasn’t like that; I was very traditional. But Laura could do anything. You’re like her that way. I admired her.” These words were from Madeleine, a friend of my Mom’s from Gimbals’ days, circa 1945. Laura the free spirit: I had never thought of her this way. I knew [...]
In my early travels I saw people cook smelly things in woks on the street. I would ask “what is it?” “again…please,” a third time… Now I was embarrassed and I still didn’t have a clue what he said. My rule became: if it’s very hot; buy it; bite it; and if you don’t like [...]
I keep thinking I’m done with harvesting my family. But we’re never done, are we? I keep finding more and more of myself every time I muse on these matters. I comfort as friends struggle with their aging parents, trying to help while respecting the worlds they have created for themselves. I watch these ballets [...]
In Print
My Mother has been slipping further into the fog of dementia for a long time now. This is a Mother’s Day greeting. You can read the whole post here.
I’m done with my family. I don’t mean to be cruel, mind you. I just need to be free for a bit. I’ve earned it. They’ve been taking up an extraordinary amount of my bandwidth, what with the usual proving myself good and worthy, writing and performing pieces of them, and feeling haunted by the [...]