by marionroach on March 29, 2010
I LOVE PASSOVER. And while it’s not strictly in our religious heritage, we celebrate it yearly with friends. The meal we prepare is not always possible to perform during the proscribed days (everyone is so busy), and the music is not exactly traditionally keyed (one singer brings a decidedly Motown bass line to the otherwise melodic solemnity), but no matter. It is the traditions of the annual meal that inform me, including, as they do, the ancient questions that are repeated and pondered again. One of those questions only I ask, and ask of no one but myself, as I am reminded of my personal all-time favorite man of faith, and quietly reassure myself that it’s just fine that he was imaginary. Meet him now.
by marionroach on April 23, 2009
WRITE IT DOWN. I tell this to my memoir students all the time. Carry a notebook, index cards, write on your hands if you must, but write it down. Keep notebooks in car, next to your side of the bed, in the kitchen; tuck an index card into your back pocket, jacket pocket, jeans pocket. And carry a pen. And they do, and then right around the third class, someone asks, “Write what down?” Ah, what good students. I was waiting for that. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on April 8, 2009
PASSOVER IS HERE, and we look forward to our yearly Seder, blended as we will be into another family’s gracious celebration. It’s easier these days since there are only three of us to accommodate at their Seder table. It wasn’t always like this. And when it wasn’t, I got my first best dose of just how accommodating a sister can be. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on March 16, 2009
Amanda Blake's 'Charlotte and Her Imaginary Friend'
LIKE MOST PARENTS of a teen, I worry about our daughter’s future romantic relationships. So far, she’s done quite well. Her first love who was not her Daddy was someone who would make the heart of any mother just soar: Tall, Jewish, part of a large family, he doted on the needs of my child and encouraged her to eat her vegetables. But there were problems, not the least of which was that he was imaginary. [click to continue…]
by marionroach on March 12, 2009
Me, at about the age of those precious school-bus years w/Andy Hattenrash.
WHEN WE LEFT OUR HEROINES, one was standing in our parents’ bedroom, holding a photo in her 9-year-old hand. She just wanted ice cream and, as a result of that hunger, came away with a whole lot more than she was after. It would take her little sister—me—14 years to come to the same conclusion that Margaret did in that instant: that our mother was having an affair. [click to continue…]
I LOVE PASSOVER. And while it’s not strictly in our religious heritage, we celebrate it yearly with friends. The meal we prepare is not always possible to perform during the proscribed days (everyone is so busy), and the music is not exactly traditionally keyed (one singer brings a decidedly Motown bass line to the otherwise melodic solemnity), but no matter. It is the traditions of the annual meal that inform me, including, as they do, the ancient questions that are repeated and pondered again. One of those questions only I ask, and ask of no one but myself, as I am reminded of my personal all-time favorite man of faith, and quietly reassure myself that it’s just fine that he was imaginary. Meet him now.
First time here? Here's the idea: 