The past belongs to everyone who was there. What do you remember? ADD YOUR STORY
I woke up thinking about my mother today, only to realize that today she’d be 77 years old. Then, I checked my email to find that one of her thoughtful fans, Monika E. Cotrill, sent us some old newspaper articles that I had never seen.
Here is the TV Radio Mirror piece, that bears the spooky title: “The Widow Who Never Married.” It was written before Mom met Dad, when she was a “honey-blonde southern belle…a single girl in New York City.” It’s surreal to learn new bits about my mother’s life from soap digest reporters and spot mementos from my own in photos from the pages of old magazines: Mom had a miniature schnauzer named Chuck; in a photo, she holds a damaged portrait that hangs in my studio.
I’m thankful for all these little reminders that my mother lives on – in my and my siblings’ hearts and minds, in the pages of magazines, and in the ether.
So, Happy Birthday, Mom. We are thinking of you, today and always.