Love
On Marriage & Changing My Name: An Unusual Anniversary Post
Happy 17th anniversary to Hubby. …
A Gift from Grampy
We invited family and traveling guests to our home for brunch before they had to leave town after Tech’s bar mitzvah weekend….
To My Son, One Month After
My son made his bar mitzvah. Talk amongst yourselves. I’m a little verklempt….
Helplessly Hoping David Crosby Notices Me
Here’s hoping David Crosby gets my love letter before I see him perform on June 12, 2012. And that I don’t freak him out. …
How Could We Have Known?
This piece was written for Galit Breen and Alison who asked us to share our “Memories Captured” on film and write about them. My son has never allowed me to put his face on my blog. Today, he gave me his permission….
Lessons From Splinters
The last time I had a splinter I was a pre-teen. Yes, I have managed to remain splinter free for nearly 30 years. Until this Monday night….
Lessons on Valentine's Day
Today I shall chronicle some very special Valentine’s Day memories….
My Annual Birthday Poem: A Terribly Self-Indulgent, Truly Narcissistic Post
Today is my birthday. I’m um… a year older than I was last year. ;-)…
The Blessing of the Ugly Casserole Dish
When my husband and I were opening our wedding gifts (fifteen years ago), we noticed someone had given us a used casserole dish. It was yellow and chipped; it was even a little dirty. I ranted: “Who would give us a used dish?!” I was astonished and pretty pissed.
Then I read the card.
The casserole dish had come from my Aunt Bea who was in her early 90s at the time, and quite ill. Still, she wanted to send us something. Her husband, whom she had loved dearly, had passed away by then and she was alone. In her beautifully written penmanship, she explained that a dear friend had given her (and her new husband) that very casserole dish that I now had before me over fifty years earlier. She apologized about the chips and dings, but pointed out that the dish had seen her family through the good years and the lean years. That casserole dish had fed them through The Great Depression, fed their children and grandchildren. She told me that – while she no longer cooked her own meals – she still cherished the dish, but now she wanted me to have it….