Mary, what a beautiful melange of moods and impressions that appear to be about nothing in particular and slowly gather the force of revelation. It takes artistry to do what you’ve done here.
When I read your poignant essays, so riveting and filled with eloquent pride, I ask myself, how long did it take her to write, edit, re-write this thing? (Serious question, I really want to know. 😊)
It feels like conversation. I feel like I know you. 💌
Thank you for letting me glimpse into your world and for simultaneously inspiring me to become a better writer. And thank you for the viduals. 🌷
Claudette, I’m overwhelmed. What a generous and kind comment. I have no idea how much time I put into this piece. I usually work on more than one essay at a time. When one gets grim or morose or goofy, I “set it aside” (hold my finger on the delete key until I realize what I’m doing, restore the most recent draft I can stand to look at and leave the room quickly). With the visuals, I just decided to have fun. I’m happy that my work speaks to you.❤️ I’m glad you’re here.
"I’m not a Catholic, but my husband took piano lessons from a nun." You had me snorting right off the bat with that one. This was lovely and funny and, as always, snuck up on me with an emotional punch at the end. You are a skilled weaver of words and feelings, friend. 💕
Conversation and laughing over coffee or wine... that’s how this made me feel! How often do we chat with friends with no end goal at all.. just rambling on about life. I’m mesmerized by your east flowing writing, Mary! You’re so gifted! I’m a converted Catholic but no ashes for me. I never watched Super Bowl..my husband kept me updated... like I cared. Now I pretend to care checking my score update app every hour or so. Thanks for this touch of real life... I’m honored and impressed you share the intimacy of your beloved black box; keeping him in the know, in the conversation. ❤️💕🫶Much love, dear friend!
Joan, it is always such a joy to hear from you! You are right, it’s like sitting down with coffee or wine or both and maybe a plate of cookies or (as we say in Minnesota) “a little lunch.” (That’s when you spend the afternoon at the table, yakking away while eating big heaps of food.
I feel so humbled by your words. Sometimes I think I’m just going on about stuff, thinking random thoughts about whatever pops into my head. But I’m happy when it resonates. I’ve tried for my entire life to understand football, and just decided not to give up any more neural space to it. And I’m glad I didn’t have to pretend to care.
"On Super Bowl Sunday, I was the old woman sitting with her cat, watching the entire game for the first time." I can't help but think that this is the way of life--we, who are still among the living, doing things we haven't done before. It's a testament to life, this sentence--to me, anyway. Though your pain is palpable, you are still here. Even the fact of the bit of dust on the black box that holds your husband's remains. You ask, what kind of a wife doesn't maintain he husband's shrine? A wife who is alive, I think. God, I don't know anything, Mary. It's terrible for me to make any sorts of statements, but in my head I hear your husband saying, leave the shrine, Mary. Go watch the game! I wish you a beautiful Sunday, with or without your computer. Whatever works!
Oh, mary. Thank you for this. There were just so many conjunctions of events and memories and things in the news that I couldn’t disconnect. It felt like I wanted to slow down, pay attention, honor each moment, but my brain wouldn’t allow it. It was certainly not my intention, when I was young, to be the cat lady, to celebrate Valentine’s Day eating a frozen entree and apologizing to my dead husband for not being a better housekeeper. But at least I can write about it! I’d say that laughter and writing are two of the best things in life.
Whew! Glad we are done with the obligatory church/cards/football watching! I love reading about all the sweet things your husband did. That Valentines dinner sounds delicious 🥰
Thank you, Monica! I’m honored by your kind words. So he wasn’t exaggerating? He was scared if the nuns at the hospice, and I have to admit they were intimidating. But incredibly kind.
I’m so glad you like the bookmark! I’m pleased that I did it all by myself, without the help of my graphic-designer daughter. She will have to help me get it out of my computer, though.😊💕
Mary, I am not sure how I found your writing, but as other commenters have said, there's so much substance and craft in it. It looks like a long ramble, and I suppose it is, but it's such a purposeful ramble. I love how so much that is big and profound comes through observation of the quotidian. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, Rita! I’m honored and humbled by your words, and so grateful that you found me. You’re right, it is a ramble, but the week was so utterly strange that I was in an improvisational mode.
Truthfully, I was working on a parallel story that got too far into territory I’m not fully prepared for. Some of it broke through. I’m glad you’re here.
So beautiful, Mary, the quiet and unexpected unfolding of this piece. I am glad there was that last Valentine's dinner, serendipitously a bit early. I sat in one place this year and watched the Super Bowl; a hospitalization the day before had left me home and feeling very still. I "sketched" my way through many of the ads, and it's ironic that I noticed Starry and was like "how have I never heard of that?" --- I looked it up after that, got the scoop, and wondered how it had never crossed my radar. It was ironic to see you mention Starry here as you tried to bring home the palatable flavor of the day. Thank you for sharing this journey. (I think the bit of dust is okay.)
Thank you, Amy. I was going to write more about the Target experience that day, but it would have been another thousand words. I just remember thinking how odd that a company would take an appealing brand label and turn it into something that sounds like an off-brand product. And then I saw the Super Bowl ad. Weird synchronicity.
It was a nice surprise to come home to. It helped ease the sorrow of the news that came on Valentine’s Day. I’m glad you enjoyed this piece. And thank you for not judging me about the dust.❤️
Mary, what a beautiful melange of moods and impressions that appear to be about nothing in particular and slowly gather the force of revelation. It takes artistry to do what you’ve done here.
Well put, Rona!
Thank you, Jeffrey!
Rona, thank you! You are so kind.❤️
My pleasure.
When I read your poignant essays, so riveting and filled with eloquent pride, I ask myself, how long did it take her to write, edit, re-write this thing? (Serious question, I really want to know. 😊)
It feels like conversation. I feel like I know you. 💌
Thank you for letting me glimpse into your world and for simultaneously inspiring me to become a better writer. And thank you for the viduals. 🌷
Agree with this! Mary, your Substack essays always make me laugh and tear up in the same read
Claudette, I’m overwhelmed. What a generous and kind comment. I have no idea how much time I put into this piece. I usually work on more than one essay at a time. When one gets grim or morose or goofy, I “set it aside” (hold my finger on the delete key until I realize what I’m doing, restore the most recent draft I can stand to look at and leave the room quickly). With the visuals, I just decided to have fun. I’m happy that my work speaks to you.❤️ I’m glad you’re here.
What a beautiful piece!
Thank you, Stanley! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
"I’m not a Catholic, but my husband took piano lessons from a nun." You had me snorting right off the bat with that one. This was lovely and funny and, as always, snuck up on me with an emotional punch at the end. You are a skilled weaver of words and feelings, friend. 💕
Tara, I’m so honored. Your kind words mean a lot to me. There are some fine writers on Substack, and you’re among the best.💕I love your work.
Conversation and laughing over coffee or wine... that’s how this made me feel! How often do we chat with friends with no end goal at all.. just rambling on about life. I’m mesmerized by your east flowing writing, Mary! You’re so gifted! I’m a converted Catholic but no ashes for me. I never watched Super Bowl..my husband kept me updated... like I cared. Now I pretend to care checking my score update app every hour or so. Thanks for this touch of real life... I’m honored and impressed you share the intimacy of your beloved black box; keeping him in the know, in the conversation. ❤️💕🫶Much love, dear friend!
Joan, it is always such a joy to hear from you! You are right, it’s like sitting down with coffee or wine or both and maybe a plate of cookies or (as we say in Minnesota) “a little lunch.” (That’s when you spend the afternoon at the table, yakking away while eating big heaps of food.
I feel so humbled by your words. Sometimes I think I’m just going on about stuff, thinking random thoughts about whatever pops into my head. But I’m happy when it resonates. I’ve tried for my entire life to understand football, and just decided not to give up any more neural space to it. And I’m glad I didn’t have to pretend to care.
Yes, the black box. Good company.😊💕
Same! Except this year my husband kept me updated on Taylor Swift sightings instead of who is winning ❤️
That is so sweet!❤️
😂😍Love it!
Amazing work, Mary. You make the writing look easy and I doubt it is. Very moving on so many emotional levels.
Lorne, thank you! I really enjoyed writing this piece. If it’s work, it’s mostly enjoyable. I’m so glad it connected with you.❤️
Love this, Mary!
Thank you, Nancy!❤️
"On Super Bowl Sunday, I was the old woman sitting with her cat, watching the entire game for the first time." I can't help but think that this is the way of life--we, who are still among the living, doing things we haven't done before. It's a testament to life, this sentence--to me, anyway. Though your pain is palpable, you are still here. Even the fact of the bit of dust on the black box that holds your husband's remains. You ask, what kind of a wife doesn't maintain he husband's shrine? A wife who is alive, I think. God, I don't know anything, Mary. It's terrible for me to make any sorts of statements, but in my head I hear your husband saying, leave the shrine, Mary. Go watch the game! I wish you a beautiful Sunday, with or without your computer. Whatever works!
Oh, mary. Thank you for this. There were just so many conjunctions of events and memories and things in the news that I couldn’t disconnect. It felt like I wanted to slow down, pay attention, honor each moment, but my brain wouldn’t allow it. It was certainly not my intention, when I was young, to be the cat lady, to celebrate Valentine’s Day eating a frozen entree and apologizing to my dead husband for not being a better housekeeper. But at least I can write about it! I’d say that laughter and writing are two of the best things in life.
Yes. Laughter and writing--where would we be without them? And friends.
Whew! Glad we are done with the obligatory church/cards/football watching! I love reading about all the sweet things your husband did. That Valentines dinner sounds delicious 🥰
It was. He was a great cook.❤️
This was beautifully written.
Thank you, Janice! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Beautifully written, thought provoking and so intimate in the telling. Thank you.
Thank you, Debra. I’m so very glad it moved you.❤️
Thank you, Mary. I laughed and later felt a tear running down my cheek.
Your husband was right about the nuns. They loved their rulers. Metal as I recall. It would be child abuse today.
You are an amazing writer and the bookmark is awesome.
Thank you, Monica! I’m honored by your kind words. So he wasn’t exaggerating? He was scared if the nuns at the hospice, and I have to admit they were intimidating. But incredibly kind.
I’m so glad you like the bookmark! I’m pleased that I did it all by myself, without the help of my graphic-designer daughter. She will have to help me get it out of my computer, though.😊💕
Mary, I am not sure how I found your writing, but as other commenters have said, there's so much substance and craft in it. It looks like a long ramble, and I suppose it is, but it's such a purposeful ramble. I love how so much that is big and profound comes through observation of the quotidian. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, Rita! I’m honored and humbled by your words, and so grateful that you found me. You’re right, it is a ramble, but the week was so utterly strange that I was in an improvisational mode.
Truthfully, I was working on a parallel story that got too far into territory I’m not fully prepared for. Some of it broke through. I’m glad you’re here.
So beautiful... So painful...
Thank you, Jen & Salima.❤️
So beautiful, Mary, the quiet and unexpected unfolding of this piece. I am glad there was that last Valentine's dinner, serendipitously a bit early. I sat in one place this year and watched the Super Bowl; a hospitalization the day before had left me home and feeling very still. I "sketched" my way through many of the ads, and it's ironic that I noticed Starry and was like "how have I never heard of that?" --- I looked it up after that, got the scoop, and wondered how it had never crossed my radar. It was ironic to see you mention Starry here as you tried to bring home the palatable flavor of the day. Thank you for sharing this journey. (I think the bit of dust is okay.)
Thank you, Amy. I was going to write more about the Target experience that day, but it would have been another thousand words. I just remember thinking how odd that a company would take an appealing brand label and turn it into something that sounds like an off-brand product. And then I saw the Super Bowl ad. Weird synchronicity.
It was a nice surprise to come home to. It helped ease the sorrow of the news that came on Valentine’s Day. I’m glad you enjoyed this piece. And thank you for not judging me about the dust.❤️