By 2003, I was teaching the brightest little minds in America, owned my own home, travelled half way around the globe serving as NY Educational Envoy to Korea, married the man I loved and had a son I adored. Along with the good things came the bad; my father died suddenly, mom’s heart was failing, I battled pre-cancer and my beautiful son’s robust health was being eaten away by Chron’s disease.Read More
One More Thing Before I Go
Last spring when the scent of lilacs followed me from the backyard into my kitchen, I thought of my mother’s distant cousin and her daughters, who, like my lilacs, visited yearly when the earth warmed and the days grew longer. I pictured us all in idyllic memories of jump rope games and playing with dolls. But, except for MaryAnn, the littlest daughter, I could not remember their names.
A few years ago, I could have called my mother. She would have teased me for my forgetfulness, asked what I was making for dinner (there was never a phone conversation where we didn’t talk about food) and repeated her mother-to-daughter mantra, “When are you coming over?” We would have shared stories of those long-ago days before hanging-up and re-joining our lives. But my mother has passed on and while the images of our family lingers-the details are lost. I write One more thing before I go, my living record for my son, in hope that one day, when he has a question I can no longer answer, it can be found in this blog.
It’s both common and accepted for people of faith to change their religions. When former Buddhists become Christian, lapsed Catholics find solace in Zen or nice Jewish boys convert for shiksas, the only ones appalled are their blood relatives. The world still spins no matter who’s worshipped.Read More
On our bus rides, my mother struck-up instant in-depth friendships with other moms and little old ladies. Soft-spoken and sympathetic, she was a perfect fellow traveler. Rarely was she asked her name nor did she ask theirs. It may sound odd now in this time of wait-staff cheerily announcing, “hi, I’m Cheryl,” or when a stranger in nurse scrubs introduces himself as Parker while you shiver barefoot in your paper examining room gown.Read More