She always ordered it perfect. Lemon twist and olives. Lots of rocks. I’ve never met Rob Roy, but he was clearly her favorite.
Digging around the internet trying to piece together my family tree has been a scavenger hunt like no other. Deciphering handwritten census lines, attempting to translate Danish baptism records, and sheepishly reaching out to strangers to ask if we just might be related somewhere down the line. Finding your roots can be a challenge. As... Continue Reading →
Dear Busia, I listened to you tonight. Backing up the files on my laptop I found you and one of our conversations that I just happened to audio record several years ago. You told me about the old house in Chicago, your dogs… the way you took care of me while I was really little,... Continue Reading →
Actual physical printed photographs. One snuck up on me today as I was cleaning and it stopped me in my path. It was an original without filters or retakes or retouches. It was just a moment in a chair. But I recognize everything in the background. The white and gold lamp that was ceramic on... Continue Reading →
On Saturday February 25, 2017, family and friends gathered to hold hands and celebrate the life of my amazing polish grandmother, whom many of us called Busia. I was honored and privileged to give the eulogy at her funeral. What follows are the words I shared, which only give a small glimpse into the immense love... Continue Reading →
Truthfully I have mixed emotions about my birthday. I don’t want to be the number that I am. At breakfast this morning my husband tried to convince me age is relative. If there were only 183 days in a year I would be 66 by now. If there were 730 days in a year. I’d... Continue Reading →