Category: In Which We Mock the Queen Mother

It’s so odd to me that everything I remember from my semester stay at Indiana University is documented in my letters home. I wonder if perhaps instead of the memorable stuff ending up in letters, writing it down is what made it memorable. I was wondering that when I opened a letter I’d written after…

It’s been fascinating to see Mom’s take on family history … it would be better to say “hear” Mom’s take, because I can hear her voice in every word. I’ve got copies of her letters and any letters sent to her by family. I’m glad Mom could type on the electric typewriter, and kept carbon…

Now that Mom’s been dead almost ten years, I’m re-reading all her letters. I keep wanting to look up all her old friends and see if they remember her, or if they ever wondered what happened to her after she divorced Jerry and moved away from Houston. I actually looked up one set of friends:…

When Mom was in her late sixties she had a dreadful time finding glasses that suited her. She had her computer glasses, her reading glasses, and her distance glasses. One time she bought glasses and simply couldn’t use them. I said she could go get them adjusted but she was not up for it. I…

These bad boys are going to be dismantled and put in my belly soon with some butter. Once you start a tradition, you have to uphold it. I am again celebrating my Mom’s life and teachings by killing a lobster with my bare hands on the anniversary of her death. I thought Gary might want…

Today was the day Mom died three years ago, so today was the deadline I gave myself for getting her files completely sorted, and it is Done. I put the lid on the last box and announced “Mom is officially dead.” Gary said, “Your Mom will never really be gone,” and that is true. When…

The painters at Mom’s have been picking off wallpaper with their fingernails, God bless them. (And I am sure God will: this team of two play soft Christian rock while working.) The house is full of sun. All manner of sins have been painted away. You can no longer tell which side of the bed…

I’m sorting through Mom’s files, separating the wheat from the chaff. Chaff: EVERY receipt for EVERY appliance bought since 1959. Toasters long gone. (Old charge card receipts printed the entire charge card number; that was quaint.) She kept a disturbing number of clippings about MS. Plus many articles about keeping your senses as you grow…

I never thought it right that Mom’s blog was on Blogspot, and mine was lazing about here in cushy Typepad. I made the decision to get into Mom’s blog, export everything, and import it here. That would have been a great plan if I could still get into Mom’s blog. I should have done it…

Evidently today is the day that Father Ghosts rise up and say, “Stop obsessing about your Mom! We’re dead too. Pay attention to us!” Evidently, attention must be paid to these men. Neither is a dead salesman, though, Jerry was a newspaper editor and Dan was a Purchasing Agent. A recap: here, or in short:…