A Message From My Heart
(Re)Making Love: a serial memoir
Come at the end? Start at the beginning!
Oddly enough, this book would not have happened if D. had not left me and sent me on my journey.
It would never have happened if Sarah Hammerschlag, my daughter, the philosopher, full professor first at Williams College, now the John Nuveen Professor in the Divinity School at the University of Chicago, whose book The Figural Jew: Politics and Identity in Postwar French Thought published by University of Chicago Press among many others —hurray!—and her husband, the philosopher and professor at University of Chicago, Ryan Coyne, had not suggested that I write about my journey while I lived it.
They said, "Write It!," while I wept, and I did.
I thank my son Ben Hammerschlag, who was the owner and CEO of Epicurean Wines and who spent many hours on the phone with me—as did my daughter and son-in-law—when the separation from D. happened, and who, as I write about in "Oz" in these pages, flew me to Australia where he owned a vineyard so that I could rest and recover and think about the state of my life. He was an incomparable man. I am blessed to have known him.
From my heart, this thank you to my children—Sarah, Ben and Ryan—comes.
A special thank you to my grandson Jericho. Jericho, when so young, gave me advice, wise beyond his years. And, believe it or not, some of the clan in Iowa stood by me, with a special salute here to Retha and Macel, who wrote me when the going was so rough and I didn’t think I would ever recover.
I could never have written this memoir if I’d not gone to University of Missouri-Columbia as a visiting author where I met the incredible writer and deeply empathic soul Marly Swick. Marly was in my corner from the get-go. I made a friend for life and that alone is worth everything.
Sarah Krouse, whom I once taught fiction writing to at George Washington University, read and reread every chapter of this memoir. She is a brilliant mind, a soulful friend. She could have been a literary agent and now has a sterling career as a journalist. Her advice has been invaluable, her friendship, a gift.
Zaara of Kittenchops.com illustrated both my website and the blog and she did both with her heart after reading both my book The Woman Who Never Cooked and early writings of this memoir—she illustrated from understanding who I am and what I write. Her illustrations grace the cover and appear inside the printed book and the Kindle version with her permission.
Two photos by the professional photographer, Andy Duback appear in this book with Andy’s permission: Thank you, Andy.
To Cynthia Stevens and Martha Dupêcher: Much more ought to be said. For now, know that the journey of discovery continues. Cynthia Stevens, you were my first teacher on this path and together we walked. Martha Dupêcher, you have walked with me in the intimacy and safety of your wisdom and your heart.
What I’ve learned while writing this has come from the discovery that taking the risk of writing gifts—and I use that word gifts literally. As Elizabeth Bishop so wisely advises,
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
But, dear readers, your comments have informed these pages more than you know. I have read your comments and you have become part and parcel of this book. You have commented. I have rethought, been encouraged, forged ahead like a little boat on the sea of your belief.
This message comes from my heart to yours,
Love,
I will remember this. It’s tempting to “borrow” with the thought that no one will notice. As a new writer, I’ve made some disastrous mistakes. I appreciate your kind advice.
Thank you for your generosity in sharing your memoir with us, Mary. It's been a remarkable experience to follow it—instructive and moving as well as so enjoyable. Thank you!