Crafting memoirs to hold our stories, and pass on the quiet wisdom of our lives.
My mom and I were both readers. She introduced me to all kinds of really fascinating books beyond what all my friends were reading. We would just write notes in the books and pass them back and forth because at that point, she had lost her hearing, and her throat was paralyzed, so she couldn't speak very well.
That’s how we did it. It was like our own secret little world. I loved her a lot. I miss her.
We were not a rich family. My parents were immigrants and they had to start at the bottom.
When they got to L.A., she saw an ad for a dressmaking company and applied, even though she didn’t know how to turn on a sewing machine. The woman beside her noticed and said, “just follow me, honey. I’ll help you.” She kindly showed her what to do, and my mother became an incredible seamstress.
She made all my clothes, even after I was married. She could do anything, and I’ll never understand how she learned so much and became so talented.”
When I was about five, my mother would dress me up and let me go across the street to a little restaurant. The jukebox never stopped playing—people just kept putting money in to watch me dance. I’ve been dancing ever since!
I could learn a dance just by watching it. One senior thought he could out-dance me doing the slop, but I slopped him to death! I just love to dance.
Since I got sick, I haven’t been able to dance, but I pray that I’ll get to do it again. I’m going to do the things I can do and not worry about the things I can’t.
