Lady Godiva

When Sonia and I were in our early teens we'd sometimes be invited along with Mom to her bosses' house for an evening of dinner and stories. Jeanette and Sam were wonderful hosts, their children were already adults and their small appartment was filled with the exotic fragrances of an unfamillar culture. Sam's thick accent sounded to us like he was raised in Brooklyn, not his native Ukraine. Sam drove a purple Lincoln that he called Abe that he may or may not have won in a poker game. Mom's boss from the Probation Department- Jeanette served us borscht and stew meat with sour cream and souerkraut, and always Godiva chocolates from a gigantic gold foil box. I remember being invited to take only one and how challenging it was to survey the treasure trove of tempting chocolates- trying to imagine which shapes held which flavorful reward, and select the one to commit my taste buds to.

Mom saved some kind of treasures in one of those gold foil boxes, maybe Sonia will remember what it was, maybe pictures- maybe buttons. I can't recall. I'm distracted right now for lots of reasons but mostly I'm resisting making the box-of-chocolates-to-life analogy, not just because it's cliche- which it is. But mostly because it's too simple. We get the chocolates- all of them, and when we're done eating them at whatever pace we happen to be aware of in retrospect, we get the box too. And if we're lucky we can enjoy the use of the box just as much as when we ate- or gave-away the candy.

I'm also not remembering how long Mom had collected elephant paraphernalia- Sonia may also recall this fact as well. Today Nancy and I went to lunch at a neighborhood Thai restaurant and this carving greeted us at the entrance. I like how the trunks meet to form a heart shape.

More Pictures From Max Visits His Nana

Max visits his Nana

Max needed to meet his Nana, so today I took my cousin Amy, her husband Don, Aaron and little Max over for a quick visit. Mom had a nice spark of recognition for Amy, which made me happy. She was awake for most of the hour-long visit and although she didn't seem to take any notice of Max being there, it was so good to have him be in her presence. I believe a 4 day old baby can probably get more into touch with her than we can.

I'm glad to not be pregnant anymore - I'll at least be able to be there with her more often once I'm allowed to drive again. Max is a patient, easy baby, so I'm sure he won't mind hanging out at her home with me.

Talking About the Present

Today we strolled through dappled sunshine on a hot Seattle summer day. Nancy blazed a path down the sidewalk through trespassing lavender blossoms thick with pollen-laden bumble bees. Mom's freshly lavished lotion scent blended with the bluster of brushed-aside fragrance. The chair wheels crushed through the minefield of deposed cherries- it's almost what Nancy and I call "free fruit season". Pears, plums, apples and grapes, blackberries and blueberries are almost nuisance issues for gardens and pedestrians. Neighbors fill paper grocery bags with tree fruit and deposit them on one another's doorstep in equal gestures of altruistic goodwill and self-conscious landscape hygiene. One can only eat so many plums from the icebox that you were saving for breakfast. Forgive me, they were delicious, so sweet, so cold*.


Somehow I've been able to make the managing of Mom's affairs, her care oversight and the guardianship of her dignity my full-time job. It's an opportunity that has been a gift in large part due to the dynamic competency and the corresponding sacrifices of both Nancy and Sonia.


Thank you, my loves. Your strength magnifies the Glory I seek for the strength and wisdom I need now.


*Thank you William Carlos Williams

Grandchild Number Six

The number of wonderful people who are blessed to call Sara by the esteemed title of Grandmother has grown to a total of six today by the addition of Maximillian Seydlitz, born to Sonia and Aaron today at 9 am-something in Kirkland, Washington.

Sonia is feeling crappy, but happy.

Grayce; age 20, Holly; age 17, Ben; age 15, Porter; age 14 and Chloe; age 12 welcome into the Blessed Order of GrandMaternal Progeny: 8 pound-ish Max; age 5 hours

Thanks for the comments, they're an insight into Mom's sphere of influence and to the reach of her love. I'll print them all out and read them to her tomorrow.

Talking Book

We were encouraged to assemble a "Memory Book" for Mom to help prompt recollections of events, people and experiences. Before we moved Mom to her new residence, Sonia, Nancy and I brainstormed what furniture Mom would be needing and what special mementos we'd need to bring to Seattle. I packed-up Sonia's mini-van with some furniture and clothes to take to Seattle so she and Nancy could arrange the room in advance of Mom's arrival. The furniture and clothes were easy to select, the treasures, not so easy. I had amassed a pile of keepsake things for Sonia to transport and before she left she filtered through the items I had set aside, added some things I had overlooked and when she was done we had a thoughtfully archived collection of loose pictures, framed pictures, scrapbooks- even a newspaper edition from Plattsburgh with a front page article reporting about her promotion. All these mementos got packed-up, as well as a manila envelope full of the cards and letters from Loved-ones.

When Mom got moved-in, I started to assemble the "Memory Book". It's a red three-ringed binder with the cards and letters taped to individual sheets of cardstock.

I remarked today how often the image of the butterfly was incorporated into a card that communicated a solace toward grief. Maybe card designers are aware of the metaphorical symbolism of the metamorphosis embodied in the life-cycle of the butterfly and are drawing attention to a parallel with whatever transformation occurs in the spirit when someone is dying.