I love this picture of my mother taken 73 years ago in the apartment on W. 23rd Street in New York where she and my father lived right after they married. She appears to be having fun in the kitchen, and I imagine the neatly hung utensils behind her and the bowl in front of her were wedding presents. Believe it or not, I still have that pancake spatula.
My mother is gone 20 years today. As I do every day, I’ll think of her and miss her. But maybe today I’ll stir up and flip a pile of pancakes in her memory.
Thinking of my mother today, who left this life on this date in 2004.
When churches began locking their doors in the off hours and replaced the soft flicker and glow of real tapers with little electric push-button lights, I began to borrow from the Jewish tradition of lighting a yahrzeit candle in my home, which burns for 24 hours, on the anniversary of my mother’s death. I love and respect this ritual, and hope that no one would consider it an improper appropriation.
As I’ve recently sifted through dozens of boxes of photos stored in my attic, I discovered this one of my mother at about age 22, ever stylish.
This photo of myself at around the same age also resurfaced, and I had to laugh at the drastic sartorial difference. At the time I thought I was oh-so-Bohemian in this one-dollar, thrift-store coat. My mother had a complete horror of it and disdainfully termed it my “rat fur coat.”
I like to eat one of my mother’s favorite foods on this day, chewy rye toast with tangy marmalade, Fig Newtons, or fragrant Earl Gray tea in a pretty cup. Today’s commemorative bite comes courtesy of my friend Ladan, who graciously procured yellow Peeps for me. This Easter delicacy can be hard to find at this time of year. Knock-off pink and blue bunnies abound but those simply won’t do. My mother and I often indulged in this guilty pleasure around Easter, and I’ll do so today.
Cheers to everyone, with wishes for a day that includes fashionable outfits and excellent snacks.
The Green Side of the Grass 