Family

The Seasons of Our Lives

Early morning fog wafts across the highway. Dawn, like a fan dancer in nature's club, waves her veils across the land. One more trip to PA to consult with my siblings about our mother's delusional dementia. Earlier in the summer, she was still mostly Irma. Now when I arrive, she is mostly gone, living inside the weird, funny, sad, unbelievable story her brain is crocheting over her memories. These drives are not fun. Along the way, I plug in my iPod and crank up my [...]

By |2018-08-30T14:22:12+00:00August 30th, 2018|contemplative, Essays, philosophical, seasonal|0 Comments

Family Matters…

When we set off in early June on our Mediterranean adventure, I had plans to write about the sailing ship, the ports of call, the new experiences. But when we returned, I found myself once more embroiled in elder care issues. My mother, still the life of the party wherever she goes, has slipped deeper into the hallucinatory dementia that has made inroads in her always-fertile imagination. One day back from the trip, I got back on the road and made the drive to Pennsylvania [...]

By |2018-06-30T19:23:44+00:00June 30th, 2018|emotive, Essays, philosophical|1 Comment

Channeling Grammy

The metal has darkened with the baking. Although I can't be certain of its exact age, the cookie sheet was a staple of my grandmother's kitchen long before I was born. Perhaps a hundred years of bread and buns and holiday kolachi have burnished the metal, colored the bright aluminum with a patina of brown and gold, impressed it with the goodness of homemade food. Although I have scrubbed it well since it came to me, the stains remain, ciphers of past kitchens and shared recipes. I [...]

By |2019-12-31T01:48:10+00:00September 22nd, 2014|Essays|0 Comments

And Now We Are Six…

Spent the past weekend visiting my mother in Sharon, PA. Descriptive words for the area include depressed, economically abandoned, sad. The flavor of old-world sensibilities persists...festivals featuring Polish sausage, Italian meatballs or Hungarian cabbage rolls. The flattening of vowels represents the immigrant parents and grandparents who shared the homes or watched the children or came together for family celebrations. Driving up State Street, I sense time and history withdrawing from the present, abandoning the town to its uncertain future. I never lived in Sharon. By the time my parents [...]

By |2019-12-31T01:48:22+00:00August 14th, 2014|Essays|0 Comments