I loved this. Many similarities with my mother: “They hid what they could.” I had three sets of grandparents. I knew that my friends had only two, but when I asked why I was told, “Don’t ask questions.”
Dearest Susan, your stories really brought me back to those times, 60 years ago, when I was one of your close friends. I have little memory of your mom, but I'm thinking of her with her red hair and a short apron moving around in your kitchen, and paying little heed to the alternately raucous or deferential boys hanging out in your house, so conveniently near to WHS. Seemingly we did not disturb her, and I don't recall her intervening.
The photo of the two of you is as I remember her. You in that photo — I'd forgotten that lovely appearance, remembering more your good mind, your sophistication and high spirits. Regarding the two of you, I do recall you speaking with disappointment when you found out that she had been in psychotherapy, not psychoanalysis. But today you give a very rounded picture. I'm grateful.
I wish she had lived until a later date, as you were only about thirty when she died.
Thank you so much for this lovely remembrance, Larry! I also remember us sitting around that table in that small kitchen with my mother puttering around. She liked having you all over, loved the liveliness and the sociability of it. She should have had more of that in her life.
I also remember our friendship, and the crazy ups and downs of it. It would be great to actually get together again sometime, catch up, and spark each other’s memories of that time. Do you keep up with any of the old bunch? I often wonder what everyone is doing—but we aren’t exactly the types to go to the reunions, etc. so I haven’t kept up myself. But I think about you all, and that strange and interesting and confusing time!
I loved this. Many similarities with my mother: “They hid what they could.” I had three sets of grandparents. I knew that my friends had only two, but when I asked why I was told, “Don’t ask questions.”
Similar generation? Also immigrant? I’ve found that generation carries a lot of shame.
Thank you.
Dearest Susan, your stories really brought me back to those times, 60 years ago, when I was one of your close friends. I have little memory of your mom, but I'm thinking of her with her red hair and a short apron moving around in your kitchen, and paying little heed to the alternately raucous or deferential boys hanging out in your house, so conveniently near to WHS. Seemingly we did not disturb her, and I don't recall her intervening.
The photo of the two of you is as I remember her. You in that photo — I'd forgotten that lovely appearance, remembering more your good mind, your sophistication and high spirits. Regarding the two of you, I do recall you speaking with disappointment when you found out that she had been in psychotherapy, not psychoanalysis. But today you give a very rounded picture. I'm grateful.
I wish she had lived until a later date, as you were only about thirty when she died.
Thank you so much for this lovely remembrance, Larry! I also remember us sitting around that table in that small kitchen with my mother puttering around. She liked having you all over, loved the liveliness and the sociability of it. She should have had more of that in her life.
I also remember our friendship, and the crazy ups and downs of it. It would be great to actually get together again sometime, catch up, and spark each other’s memories of that time. Do you keep up with any of the old bunch? I often wonder what everyone is doing—but we aren’t exactly the types to go to the reunions, etc. so I haven’t kept up myself. But I think about you all, and that strange and interesting and confusing time!
A beautiful ode to your mother's memory Susan!
Thank you Melinda!
Wonderful!!!
Thank you William!