I couldn’t see the point of my mother’s skimpy yellow babushka — until the day I found myself a lost child in a cavernous Detroit department store. Read more.
As a mother of the bride whose past reaches deep into the 20th century, I’ve got lots of ideas for my daughter’s wedding day “something old.” Read more.
When I was three or four years old, my mother took me shopping at a big department store in downtown Detroit. It might have been Crowley’s or Kern’s or Hudson’s. Shoppers crowded the aisles and soon, my mother and I got separated and I found myself alone. Read more.
My mother’s last words to me were nothing much. No parting words of love. No heartfelt messages to the grandchildren. Read more.