I still have my sleeve board. A little more modern- it folds flat. ;)
I started ironing my uniform in 2nd grade - my Nana taught me after I begged enough.
She did most of the ironing, she had to leave (the German) school (in PA) after 6th grade to help pay bills for her disabled mother & 2 younger sisters. (She called HER older sister “Nana,” so that’s how it is sometimes.)
Oh Mary, this is so, so beautiful and moving. I can relate to what you are describing here. My relationship with my mother is unfortunately not as warm, but my mother's mother played a vital role in my life. When she died last year, her sister expected me to fly over to the funeral and hasn't forgiven me for not doing so. But my grandmother meant so much more to me than this polite ritual (a Catholic burial) that feels very preformative to me. Instead, I honour her every day in my writing and thinking about her.
On another note, I'm grateful that you are part of my community. Sending you much love
Mary, I recognize my own shame in your words, albeit for different reasons, the way it rests on the soul in the most unforgiving of ways. If only we understood that shame is just another word for lesson. And what is life if not about learning? I have a belief about funerals, shivas and the like. They are for the living only, as the departed is far beyond early concerns. If you needed to stand on the stoop to breathe, there should have been no shame in that. Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece.
Your writing evokes a kind of longing that defies its nature—typical, ordinary longing projects toward the future. Your longing lands right in the heart of the present.
Love scrolls the words forever printed on your soul . And sometimes printed on the most unexpected places.
Best of luck , Mary! My Dad was an incredible golfer, he had a fluid swing that rivaled a ballet movement. For years, when the ball left the tee, he would call after it, I can still hear him ; “Get wings baby, get wings!”
I’m smiling when I say, I send the call out for your novel on the day it will be released;
Beautifully written. I love the small details you mention that help create a vision of your mom. I hope Jewish traditions have been a comfort to you during painful days. 🙏🏻
“
People and food seemed to smother her disappearance in presence.”
Just one example of so much so beautifully expressed here.
♥️
Your empathy defines you, Holly.
Such beautiful writing, Mary! The details about the sleeve board are so moving.
Your words, Jeffrey, move me so--and my heart is grateful for you as a reader and a writer extroardinaire.
I still have my sleeve board. A little more modern- it folds flat. ;)
I started ironing my uniform in 2nd grade - my Nana taught me after I begged enough.
She did most of the ironing, she had to leave (the German) school (in PA) after 6th grade to help pay bills for her disabled mother & 2 younger sisters. (She called HER older sister “Nana,” so that’s how it is sometimes.)
So heartwarming that you even know what a "sleeve board" is ... My heart to you and your Nana!
Oh Mary, this is so, so beautiful and moving. I can relate to what you are describing here. My relationship with my mother is unfortunately not as warm, but my mother's mother played a vital role in my life. When she died last year, her sister expected me to fly over to the funeral and hasn't forgiven me for not doing so. But my grandmother meant so much more to me than this polite ritual (a Catholic burial) that feels very preformative to me. Instead, I honour her every day in my writing and thinking about her.
On another note, I'm grateful that you are part of my community. Sending you much love
Imola, I am deeply grateful for you ,,,
Mary, I recognize my own shame in your words, albeit for different reasons, the way it rests on the soul in the most unforgiving of ways. If only we understood that shame is just another word for lesson. And what is life if not about learning? I have a belief about funerals, shivas and the like. They are for the living only, as the departed is far beyond early concerns. If you needed to stand on the stoop to breathe, there should have been no shame in that. Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece.
Oh, Sue, your empathy and wisdom define you. Thank you for the kind words about the process and the essay. xx
Thank you, Mary, for your kind words. xo
Oh Mary, so poignant, so beautifully expressed. x
How lovely, Rebecca. Been such a long time since I've seen you here! xx
It’s super to read you, Mary! Life gets in the way of things sometimes. 😘
Your writing evokes a kind of longing that defies its nature—typical, ordinary longing projects toward the future. Your longing lands right in the heart of the present.
So excited for your launch Mary!
Lovely words from you.
Also, I've saved some of your comments and will send you via text a word docx--may help with the interview.
A very touching essay. I write about my late mother to wish her to me.
Heart to heart, Liz!
❤️❤️
"People and food seemed to smother her disappearance in presence."
It is these words that tugged at my heart me on the second read Mary, how did I miss the goosebumps first time?
I am reaching for the stars for you... each are worthy! xx
Susie, your words mean so much to me!
Our shame, our regret, if we can just admit... You express beautifully here what so many of us cannot.
Heart to heart for the kindness of your words.
Love scrolls the words forever printed on your soul . And sometimes printed on the most unexpected places.
Best of luck , Mary! My Dad was an incredible golfer, he had a fluid swing that rivaled a ballet movement. For years, when the ball left the tee, he would call after it, I can still hear him ; “Get wings baby, get wings!”
I’m smiling when I say, I send the call out for your novel on the day it will be released;
“Get wings baby…”
Lor, the wings you send are in my heart.
Beautifully written. I love the small details you mention that help create a vision of your mom. I hope Jewish traditions have been a comfort to you during painful days. 🙏🏻
As we say, "Her memory is a blessing." Thank you, CK, for the kind words about the writing.