Still miss her after 10 years …

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day and, even after all this time, it’s tough — not that I only think of my mom once a year. Truthfully, I miss her everyday. I can’t tell you how many times a week I reach for the phone to call her.

It’s still an automatic reflex whenever I’m unsure about a recipe, or I’ve got news to share, or I’ve seen a movie I know she’d have loved, or some silly antic of hers pops out of my memory bank and into my consciousness.

She was a hoot. Feisty, funny, up for just about anything that didn’t involve elevators or heights.

In the summer of 2000 I became one of three founding Continue reading

My first best friend …

I must be pretty desperate for content if I’m willing to share this photo with you. It’s me, at about two years old sporting the worst haircut ever! How could my mother do that to me? I particularly love that curl that seems to have a mind of its own. Reminds me of the poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

There was a little girl,

Who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good,

She was very good indeed,

But when she was bad she was horrid.

The day the picture was taken, I was being Continue reading

Back to reality …

Don’t know if you’ve realized it, but for the last little while I have been making a real effort to think (and write) only about the positive: Pleasant memories, good times, gratitude and so on.

It’s worked, too.

The more I’ve concentrated on the upbeat, the less involved I’ve been in the Trump madness, the better my mood and my attitude have become.

But nothing lasts forever, I guess. The world isn’t rosy all the time and fake euphoria (like fake news) doesn’t do anyone any good. So I’m going to give in, vent for a minute, get it off my chest, and hope it’ll go away. Then Continue reading

The good old days …

Just looking at this photo has brought back all kinds of great memories. It was back in the 90’s — ’93 I’m thinking — and I was at an Ogilvy worldwide creative directors’ meeting. Jim, who’s  in the shot with me, was the creative director in our LA office.

He and I had met a year or two earlier, in New York, at David Ogilvy’s 80th birthday bash. Which is a whole other story. We (Jim and I) got along like a house on fire and we became fast Continue reading

Trying to move on …

I’m done. Had it. Enough already with all the political drama, with all the unrest, with allclemente the nastiness and rage. It’s everywhere and I can’t stand it for another second. It feels like I’m caught in an abyss from which I’ll never escape.

For the last three days I tried to come up with an idea for today’s blog post. Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Blank. Empty. And you know why? Because I’ve been so caught up in all the bullshit of the U.S. election for the past 20+ months, I can think of little else.

Sick is what it is. Sick and sad. And I’m tired of it.

So in an effort to drag myself out of this pit of despair the Continue reading

When I was 17 …

Don’t worry, I’m not about to break into song. You have no idea what I’m talking about, doice-cream you? Frank Sinatra? “It Was A Very Good Year?”  I think it was specially written for him. Well the first line is, “When I was 17 …”

Never mind.

When I was 17 my parents sent me on one of those teen tours. For six weeks we traveled throughout Canada, the U.S. and down into Continue reading

Grrrrr …

Yes, I’ve got a bee in my bonnet. But let me start with what I do love about Facebook.fb

I love that I’ve been able to reconnect with people I haven’t seen in years and years and years. I love that I’ve made so many new friends, folks I’d never have met any other way, but with whom, it turns out, I share a lot of interests.

I love that I’ve found former co-workers, some from my very first job. I love that I can, so quickly and easily, keep in touch with friends and family who live far away. For that matter, I love hearing about everything that’s going Continue reading

Are all writers a little weird … ?

… or is it just me?typewriter

Since moving to Toronto in 1985, every house or apartment I’ve either rented or owned has had an office, or at least a dedicated space for writing. One that’s properly outfitted, with a desk, a comfortable chair, a filing cabinet, storage for books and supplies, good light, everything one would need.

I have never sat, or worked, in any of them.

When I got to the part, in the book I’m writing, where my mom died I couldn’t write at home. It took me about six Continue reading

Waiting

It was Christmas time. My mother was in Toronto, visiting me. She was onlytime here a day or two when the call came. My grandmother had pneumonia, bacterial, and the prognosis wasn’t good.

My mother and I left for Montreal immediately, going directly to the nursing home when we arrived.

And there we stayed, all of us, me, my mother and both my aunts sitting there, in her room. Listening. A ragged breath, a beep from the monitor, a ragged breath, a beep Continue reading

Pick your battles

As you know if you read my blog I’m writing a book. It’s about my motherbattle and, to a lesser degree, me. I loved her and we were always close. But what’s fascinating is, in dredging up these old memories, I’m noticing aspects of her personality, her character, her being I wasn’t really aware of before.

Maybe I’d seen it, known it all along, but it never registered with me, most likely because I Continue reading