Vanishing in New York City
There was a small and rugged stationery store in the 1960’s on East 84th street where I sometimes went with Mom when she ordered Crane note cards on heavy cream stock engraved with her initials. I remember it well because it was the first time I saw an adult with Down Syndrome walking with his mother. Mom explained the disorder to me, and the statistics surrounding probability of Down Syndrome for a child of an older mother. Mom was always perfunctory in her explanations, a straight shooter with no silver linings even when explaining genetic injustice to a child. In the 1990’s, I...
Read MoreOld Hopes
My husband and I spent the weekend in New Hope, Pennsylvania. A strange place for me to re-visit – I spent several weekends there back in the early 1970s with a boyfriend whose grandparents owned an inn on the Delaware River in a bordering town. I remember how we borrowed my parents’ Volvo to make the first trip, and the feeling of freedom I had as he and I drove off. Typically, I was not “allowed” to drive with anyone who wasn’t an adult, and especially with someone who was young and male. Prior to this journey, my mother dropped me off for “dates” and picked me up at the end...
Read MoreFoods for Thoughts
The kitchen in our old house was a large room with planked wooden floors and a wood-burning stove. It was hardly state-of-the-art. The regular stove was basic – four burners and one oven. The sink was stainless and shallow. The dishwasher was old, and often needed coaxing. The counters were spare except for a large center peninsula that again, was not modern – not stone and filled with drawers and cubbies – but simply a deep green Formica with an overhang that accommodated as many as seven “bar stools.” The kitchen was the hub of the house – a conference room for conversation, the...
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