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Mothers & Daughters

Janet (my grandma Mangan) and her mom, Mabel Davis, spring 1934.

IMG_1054

Sophie and me, summer 2008.

“We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies.” —Shirley Abbott

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This entry was written by kara, posted on August 3, 2008 at 8:57 am, filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.
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    Technology has reminded me that February 2011 was the month in which Sophie’s love of dress-up included headwear of all sorts (yes, that’s an antique doily under the bird hat my parents found in Italy and yes, that’s a shower cap). Hope you were able to enjoy some sunshine today. If you look closely you can see different colored strands of yarn tied to each of their recorders. They earn a new color with each new song they learn (and each song increases in difficulty). We’ve sensed a bit of competition lately and now these two are constantly practicing. And if one plays a song the other will start playing the same song, but faster. Then the other, louder. Even though Io can’t speak, I guarantee he’s thinking the same thing the other three humans in this (small) house are thinking ... There’s a surprising amount of comfort in the quietness of turning 41. Owen asked Andy if they could do breakfast in bed, and they did. Work today. Tonight Andy made shrimp scampi and we had my favorite strawberry torte. Everything a reader loves from Jill, and gorgeous flowers. Beautiful handmade napkins and a book I’ve longed to read from my parents, along with the gift of choosing something for myself. Jo Malone (much too much) from Andy and the kids. Pleiades from an old book from one of my dearest friends. And the nicest notes. I know things can turn in a moment’s notice but right now I just want to soak all this in and pocket it, forever. (And thanks, James, for writing two sweet sentences and writing “love” in your card and for taking the first picture and for saying “Oh, all right” and returning my hug tonight.) I’m grateful. Went over to Grandma’s for dinner (delicious ham and bean soup!) and some small fixes around the house. And we discovered this. There are definitely benefits to your kids getting older! (Initially we told them they’d have to do it with straws. ) Thankfully it should be an easy fix (although it is plumbing). Andy’s at the hardware store now. (And re the bare feet, note it’s clean water, haha.) @lawdoggyuc, the kids, Andy and I celebrated Valentine’s Day with kid-friendly charcuterie, a bottle of red and a bottle of sparkling water, our annual Julia Child’s chocolate mousse, and “The Wedding Singer,” which was way more inappropriate than we remembered (my votes for “Pride & Prejudice” or “Sleepless in Seattle” were turned down ...). Gave the kids sweets, love letters, and apparently several new ways to curse. Hope you got to spend the day with someone you love. Spent this morning in Frankfort with Moms Demand Action. I and five fellow Northern Kentuckians were able to speak with Senator Chris McDaniel about extreme risk (red flag) laws (and I was grateful he took the time to personally see us). These laws would empower families or law enforcement to temporarily remove firearms from those who are going through a tough time and pose as a risk to themselves or others. I talked with Senator McDaniel about suicide (69 percent of gun deaths in KY are suicide with one occurring every 18 hours). I talked to him about Joe and my father-in-law and the impact suicide has had on me, my kids and my family (no matter the method). Moms Demand Action is non-partisan. It is NOT anti-gun but rather promotes responsible gun ownership. Responsible gun ownership means fewer gun deaths, including accidental (firearms are the second leading cause of death among children and teens in KY). It means fewer incidences of intimate partner homicide. It means fewer hearts beating a bit faster whenever any parent hears a rush of sirens headed in the direction of a school. It means a little more time with those we love. @everytown @momsdemand @shannonrwatts sweet Valentines One of the great privileges of being a writer is bearing witness to our shared complexity, some of it joyful, some of it so awful you bite your tongue while taking notes so as not to cry while asking the next question. Jenn and I worked together at Fort Thomas Matters, and in 2017 Mark and I shared Jenn and Aunt Deb's story (may we all be so lucky to have a caregiver, mother and friend such as Aunt Deb). Jenn was a writer, artist (she made this t-shirt) and photographer, who could make a single tulip in sunshine look like God itself. She died this morning. Stage IV f------ breast cancer. (She would have laughed at my use of dashes.) I will miss her always appropriate inappropriateness, her ability to find beauty and magic everywhere, her messages lifting me up when I didn't even know I needed lifting, and the genuine connectedness she had with so many. No comments needed here. Just send love to those who loved her, particularly Aunt Deb and Dakota, her teenage son. https://www.facebook.com/617323802/posts/10156970157068803/?d=n My new favorite t-shirt arrived. My last elementary Mother/Son Dance with these two, Get Your Glow On (and we did!). (I was lucky enough to get two dates.) 6th grade Valentine’s Dance Me: “Was there slow dancing?” S: “No!!” (eye roll) Finally, (a little) snow. I feel like Io can now sense time. He plants himself here every day around 2:40 hoping to ride along for school pickups. (And unless we have somewhere to be immediately after, I bring him.) Pretty special evening with these two 🦒🦓🦁 Because of the grayness of January, and the stubbornness of the grays that crown my head, and the president’s lawyers’ talk of justice, and the harsh words said in car line, and the car that is upside down a few miles away as I type this, and the avocado we waited a day too long to eat, and the knowing that a friend is going through the impossible, and the harsh realization that time in all centuries and space and place is often cruel (despite flashes of beauty and unrealized perfection in long periods of contentment), I want to share Maggie Smith’s beloved “Good Bones.” “Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.” That’s a wrap! Thankful for all the family and friends who came out to support our orphan and pickpocket, shown here and in spirit She’s tired but had a blast! My favorite orphan/pickpocket had dress rehearsal and parent night tonight, which is the night we can take pictures. It’s tech week. She’s had 26 hours of rehearsal since Sunday. So much hard work went into this and the kids did it all, including an amazing crew that built the set, made the costumes, advertised, did makeup and hair ... they have six shows in the next four days and Sophie is loving it. Tonight she said the people involved is the nicest group of people she’s ever met. Thankful for all the directors, teachers, high schoolers and parent volunteers who have dedicated so much time to this. We’re new to the world of theatre (aside from attending) and so thankful Sophie’s had such a great first experience. Celebrated my Grandma’s 86th birthday today ❤️ I feel like this image is such a great representation of life. (It’s also Frank Stella from MoMA, one of my Christmas gifts to Andy. He finished it today. One piece was missing. He has yet to finish a full puzzle in this house. There is always one piece missing. We’ve lived here 9 years. He blames the kids and pets. I blame the ghosts.)
    TAP

  • Favorite Essays

    Choosing Compassion in a Culture of Fear

    Seeking the Bigness in the Everyday

    The Love in Trying

    The View from Up High

    Season of Innocence

    The Huffington Post guest post: Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago, a TIME's top 10 opinion piece in 2012

    Simple

    Changing Love

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