Being a grandmother, sometimes I’m lucky to become a child again — as when my grandson and I work together on a project that recalls something my Mother made for my siblings and I 60-some years ago. Technologies and years telescope into a happy afternoon of creativity and reading. . . Click through to read more. . .
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A story about my grandson and a story about my grandma, connected across the generation by a change to . . . well, you’ll see if you read the post. And I’ll update you on my garden while we’re together. Click through, please.
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23 years after my father’s death, I’ve finally begun mending a vest he once wore, handknit for him in the mid ’40s, ravaged by moths a few decades later. And then I started sketching his face from a favourite family photo of him and his brother. Memory work in progress. Click through to see and read.
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A few months ago I wrote about a literary excerpt that featured a 60-something woman thinking back on a long sexual relationship with her husband. I wondered if there was room here for a conversation about topics that excerpt could open — and received many encouraging comments indicating interest. So I’m starting that conversation today with a memory of a Sixty-something birthday lunch I attended when I was young — Fortyish-young, at least. Then I turn to a memoir to introduce a Very Bold Sixty-Something (she did What?!) and hope by the end of the post, I’ve made some space for us to chat. Please click to read more.
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Last week on Instagram, I posted a sketch inspired by a photo of my mother in Greece, circa 1981. Some asked to see the photo itself, so I’ve posted it here, along with my recollections (disappointingly thin, I reproach myself!) of a trip my Mother took — without my Dad — 40 years ago. Also some musings about Time and Memory and Family — so strange from the perspective of a Late Sexagenarian. . . Perhaps you can relate?
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