Becoming a widow leaves me with an extraordinary amount of time. The Before Time I…
Widow’s Weeds 13: Now At Rest
The cemetery in Balbieriškis is a beautiful place, whatever the metric you choose. It is a place of peace and transcendent love that is evident in the tending of the space, the care for the ancestors. The Old Cemetery is the most beautiful of all, with its signs of...
Widow’s Weeds 12: Au Revoir Paris
Jean-Bernard grimaces as he tells me it’s gonna be hot. Thirty-two degrees. He wrinkles his nose. I already know. Weather.com says 78 ° F by early afternoon. “Je déteste la chaleur,” I respond. “Moi aussi,” he agrees. He doesn’t like the heat, either. It’s Not 1999...
Widow’s Weeds 10: Going To The Dogs
Douglas Keister published Stories in Paris: A Field Guide to Paris Cemeteries and Their Residents in 2013 and I don’t remember when I bought it. I must have encountered it in the travel pages of The New York Times, but I don’t recall. Cemeteries in Distant...
Widow’s Weeds 09: Montparnasse
The Garden Saint Martin seems to be the hotel of choice for many women traveling solo. It also has truly charming gentlemen at the front desk. Murat, in particular, is something of a flirt. I realized while unpacking that I had forgotten—despite my best efforts—an...
Widow’s Weeds 08: Paris 1
Café Plat du Jour Cheeseburger Terrible name but the café is on the corner of Place de la République and this morning, in addition to strong coffee, I seek the liveliness of traffic. And the oh-so-French accent of emergency vehicles. My café au lait is delicious, too....
Widow’s Weeds 07: If It Weren’t For The Women
The attorney checked in to see if I had completed some assignments. I hadn’t and got to work. Did the paperwork to transfer the title of Garnet, the RAV4, into my name. Arranged for appraisal of the Barthiana: check. Communicated with Vanguard on various tasks: check....
Widow’s Weeds 06: Vegetables Help
I had been putting off serious thought about the menu for Dan’s memorial this coming Saturday, now exactly one week off. Putting together a video and assembling a play list had been a diversion. I worried, moreover, that if I didn’t get it started, I might have...
Persistent Persimmons
It seemed like a good idea, some fifteen years ago or so. Plant a couple of persimmon trees, be patient, harvest the fruit. So I waited–patiently–long long past the five-year mark by which time I should have been seeing flowers. Nothing. Not a blossom, not...