My hometown friend Betty Ann (not her actual name) was a year ahead of me in school. As far as I know, all she ever wanted was to enjoy her cozy apartment, take long walks into town and back, hold a steady job, study and listen to opera, design and sew her own clothing, and pursue her favorite pastime, correspondence with friends and classmates who…
I don’t remember being especially close to my brother when we were young, but for sure we were not close as young adults, or anytime beyond that. I decided to dig deeper into the past, looking through photographs and letters that might provide clues as to what happened, and why. I see a beautiful infant boy loved by his parents and grandparents. Hundreds of black…
The phone rang at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. The caller introduced himself as a Broward County homicide detective. I had no clue why Florida law enforcement was calling me in Massachusetts. He asked if I was the sister of Stuart Weiner. And in that moment, I prepared myself to hear something terrible. For a few seconds, I delayed it by remaining silent. “Mrs.…
I attended an online benefit concert last night. James Taylor sang this song that I can’t get out of my head, but I’m glad it’s with me today, the seventh anniversary of my husband’s passing. My daughter and I had a tearful conversation last night but ended with a promise to each other to remember with joy the father and husband we had — and…
Dear Readers, The annual memorial ceremony where the names of all 9/11 victims are read by their families at Ground Zero will be conducted virtually, like most everything else in this pandemic year. I am re-issuing my piece about my visit to the 9/11 memorial site two years ago for new subscribers who may wish to read it. You can find it here: https://barrielevine.com/ground-zero/ I…
July Fourth is the big one — city parades with floats, fireworks and firecrackers, high school bands, barbecues and beaches. Memorial Day, the little sibling, normally warrants a short local parade, flags at automobile dealerships, summer clothing sales at the mall, iffy weather in New England. Like today, overcast, damp, not quite reaching mid-fifties. Not many ventured out for gatherings at home or in the park,…
I had a BFF, Phyllis, in my Linden, New Jersey childhood. I grew to 5’ 6” but she leveled off at five feet, if that. We went through elementary, Hebrew School, junior high, and into high school together. I often stayed over at her house, where she shared a bedroom with her younger sister. They had an energetic little brother who we considered a pain,…
JANUARY 2014: I was a brave girl, walking through the cemetery alone for the first time after the funeral. The area is small by today’s standards but only about one-third occupied, one hundred years old and owned by the synagogue for members and their families. Located in a clearing adjacent to a wooded conservation area, the cemetery distinctly reflects the changing seasons, surrounding the rows of historic…
There is a saying, “If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.” I do not claim such extraordinary powers, literally or even figuratively. But I do know that I can summon memory to shed light, however briefly, on a person who deserves another look.
When I was a high school junior in 1961, my classmate, Barbara, was killed instantly in an automobile accident. The driver was her friend, a senior with a new license. It shocked me, a sixteen year old, that someone I knew died. Even my four grandparents were still alive. I didn’t know Barbara well, other than that she was smart, friendly, and destined to do…
In my 71st year, going into my third as a widow, I decided to join a newly formed literary discussion group at the local library on Saturday afternoons. It was a step out of darkness, away from the mourning, then grieving, first for my husband, then for my mother ten months later. I had not understood—how could I have known—that recovering from three years of…
THE VISIT: On August 15, 2018, I visited the 9/11 Memorial for the first time. I had hesitated to approach the site for years even though I visited New York frequently, not sure if I could withstand a reminder of the immense shock and tragedy of that day like no other. Unlike me, the victims of the plane crashes and the catastrophic collapse of the towers…
It’s a special event when one person gives a gift to another, for any reason. Gift cards or registries are now the most popular choice of gifting for birthdays, graduations, weddings, holidays, housewarming, etc. In some ways it’s impersonal, but in other ways it’s better. We’ve all given or received gifts for which we or the recipient have no use or liking whatsoever. 🎈 …
After a couple of days with temps in the eighties, I decided to put away my winter clothing. I may regret it, as May weather in New England can be unstable. We are advised not to plant tomatoes until Memorial Day weekend. The eager gardeners who cannot resist often regret it. ☀ ☀ 🌤 ☀ …
When I was born, my grandmother tied a strawberry pink ribbon around a curl on top of my head, my first hairstyle. In elementary school, I wore my stick-straight brown hair in a pony tail, with bangs across my forehead. Closer to my teens, my hair took on a darkly burnished auburn sheen, not quite the brighter red of my mom’s hair. She braided my hair each…
Today, December 7th, is my mother’s birthday. Rose was a member of the greatest generation, born in 1915 and living through the technological advances and formative tragedies of the twentieth century: the major wars, the Great Depression, the loss of her extended family in the Holocaust, the assassinations. She was a “late bloomer” in her personal life and began the career of her young dreams…
My Thanksgiving table over forty-one years of marriage began with Paul’s two little boys, my parents from Linden, New Jersey and Paul’s parents from Dorchester/Mattapan, then expanded to include our own son and daughter. My husband, a hairdresser by trade and an outdoorsman by nature, wielded sharp instruments expertly, whether an axe, a scissor, or a carving knife. After he sliced the turkey, he carefully…
My husband Paul loved the Costco Wholesale Warehouse with a passion. He discovered it when it first opened on Route One in Danvers in 1990. Eventually, we went there together, pushing our basket up and down every aisle and taking in the fascinating new seasonal items (lawn chairs, umbrella tables, plants, pergolas, backyard storage sheds) or household and food products in super-sizes and quantities. The huge Cheerios boxes…
September is National Senior Center Month. I write this piece with appreciation for the support I received at the Beverly Council on Aging over the past five years. I’ve been a senior before – Linden High School class of ’62, Douglass College class of ’66. It took fifty years, but now I’m a senior again!
On the train from Boston to New York City, I can’t help but think of what awaits me there, a summer week with my little grandson. From the moment he was born, this child brought pure joy into my life—the first time I freely opened my heart after I lost my husband Paul in December, 2013. During my grandson’s first year, I commuted between Boston…