My Great Grandfather’s letter to a neighbor the day after my grandmother was born. 1896. “Last night about 10:45 P.M. or it may have been 10:46, I am not quite certain, being a little agitated at the time, a young lady, quite a stranger to all of us, – no one seemed ever to have seen her before – came to pay us a visit; which from the perfectly contented way she has taken to her novel surroundings, threatens to degenerate into a permanent residency…. “
If you are raised Catholic, at some point you have to choose. Jesus or Santa. At a certain age you are expected to put away childish things and throw Santa under the bus.
I went to the MET yesterday for the first time in three years. I was in search of mummies. My niece’s sons are studying them and want to see actual specimens. I overheard a grandmother strolling with her granddaughter mention mummies. “Are there any here?” I said. She snapped at me. “Of COURSE there are! Follow me, we are headed in that direction. I’ll get you to the American wing and you can take it from there.” Which I did. FYI the MET has FOUR.
The “4 minute” message – My life is like a quiz show. Is it an age thing? After all, my brain is stuffed. I have so many names, places, things, summer vacations, Christmas Carols, works of art, recipes, cousins, family dinners, dinner parties, grammar school teachers, high school concerts and cats’ names in here that it is difficult to sort through them all on a moment’s notice. More and more I depend on the kindness of strangers.