Showing posts from March, 2019

Baby Ring

Cleaning out a box last night I found my father’s baby ring. How stunning that this little treasure has survived thus far, given not only the fact that my father was born in the ‘30s, but that he traveled some bumpy roads, so to speak. How remarkable that this treasure exists at all, given that my Dutch immigrant grandma Lulu and her Irish Immigrant husband Andy both worked at the cigarette factory- how did they even afford such a thing? What made them decide to purchase a ring for their only son? Perhaps they knew a jeweler and got a discount? Was it a gift from a close friend? I will have to wonder forever . . His initials are there- WSA for William Sterret Anderson. The ring is all wonky and misshapen, like it has been stepped on or smashed in a door jam and someone tried to pull it back to a slightly circular shape, but did so gingerly so as not to snap the thin band. But Grandma Lulu is gone, as is Andy, whom I never met. Now there is my baby Lulu, who is eve

Pass the matches

In the deepest apex of Winter, and our whole family was caught in the bizarre misery of excess. Too much free time, too lethargic, too much snacking, we slug around our house, bloated, bleary, foggy, bored. It is such a profound privilege to suffer this kind of listless discomfort, to live out this yearly seasonal dichotomy, and yet we make no move to leave New England, where the winters are as intensely tenacious as they are beautiful. We cling to our winter rituals every year with our soft chubby white fingers, knowing that spring will soon be upon us and we'll have to emerge from the fog. Being a true suburban mother, as I’m able, I seek out enriching activities for my kids to keep us from completely devolving. Activities that aren’t too expensive, aren’t too far away, suitable for a 4 year old and a 10 year old and not inspire us adults to undergo a full mental breakdown or instigate divorce. Essentially, I’ve got a nearly impossible set of guidelines for an outing in Wes