Absolutely beautiful, Adam! So glad Rona Maynard linked to your writing on Notes. So many gorgeous passages here like: ‘They were essays-in-miniature, ships in a bottle, their sails hoisted aloft by the masterful tug on a tiny heartstring left exposed, the delicate rigging unfurling in our glass hearts like butterfly wings.’ And how your mother found herself in writing, the hurricane calmed. I feel like I know her, through your beautiful attention to what and how she created. Such a remarkable testimony. My late mother saved all sorts of ephemera, too, including birthday cards. Now I am seeing these artifacts in a new light, thanks to you.
Please don't feel like this is a reading assignment, but as part of this series I wrote this one for my father. They are bookends, possibly on my life. I have a sense from what you appreciated above that you'll understand.
Not an assignment at all, a beautiful invitation, thank you. I recently wrote about my father in a piece about anger and my long-standing fear around it, because of my father’s temper. It felt both highly uncomfortable and wholly necessary at this juncture in my life to examine this relationship in my writing. I look forward to reading, Adam.
I love every Scheherazade story, it is a pleasure to read this one again, and be reminded of the intimacy and beauty you have shared . My husband’s mother’s birthday was a few days ago, he said , she would have been 96 today. I silently wondered why we continue to say; ‘she would have been’ , not needing, ‘if she had lived’ . Those that hold a special place in our hearts always remain safely tucked in with all the love and memories ,“ bound together in ribbons and bows…”
And the big question of ‘if’ still hangs there filled with wishes and dreams of what might have been, what we missed out on, if only.
Glad you reposted...I loved reading this again! Your mother seems a force of Nature, and she clearly passed along her love of language to you. Beautiful.
Came into your comments section not knowing what I wanted to say, armed with only the words “Loved this.” Now reading the earlier comments I am not surprised to find I’m not alone.
Absolutely beautiful, Adam! So glad Rona Maynard linked to your writing on Notes. So many gorgeous passages here like: ‘They were essays-in-miniature, ships in a bottle, their sails hoisted aloft by the masterful tug on a tiny heartstring left exposed, the delicate rigging unfurling in our glass hearts like butterfly wings.’ And how your mother found herself in writing, the hurricane calmed. I feel like I know her, through your beautiful attention to what and how she created. Such a remarkable testimony. My late mother saved all sorts of ephemera, too, including birthday cards. Now I am seeing these artifacts in a new light, thanks to you.
Please don't feel like this is a reading assignment, but as part of this series I wrote this one for my father. They are bookends, possibly on my life. I have a sense from what you appreciated above that you'll understand.
https://www.adamnathan.com/p/scheherazade-ii
Not an assignment at all, a beautiful invitation, thank you. I recently wrote about my father in a piece about anger and my long-standing fear around it, because of my father’s temper. It felt both highly uncomfortable and wholly necessary at this juncture in my life to examine this relationship in my writing. I look forward to reading, Adam.
Pretty swell my boy. I caught her all kinds of ways.
Thanks, Tommy. Extraordinary piece of writing chez toi this week. Family Week.
I love every Scheherazade story, it is a pleasure to read this one again, and be reminded of the intimacy and beauty you have shared . My husband’s mother’s birthday was a few days ago, he said , she would have been 96 today. I silently wondered why we continue to say; ‘she would have been’ , not needing, ‘if she had lived’ . Those that hold a special place in our hearts always remain safely tucked in with all the love and memories ,“ bound together in ribbons and bows…”
And the big question of ‘if’ still hangs there filled with wishes and dreams of what might have been, what we missed out on, if only.
Happy Birthday to your mom, Adam.
Thank you, Lor. She died at 68, so fairly young.
I wished she’d see all her grandkids grow up. 6 of them. Nothing would have made her happier (than possibly a very good book.)
Wow.
I remember this one. So good.❤️
🙏, Kimberly. I was noticing she would have been 90.
Love this. Always feels like a treasure to find old letters.
All I could think of with the fires was the catastrophic loss of pictures and letters.
Oh me too! Irreplaceable! Makes me think I should at least scan some of the older ones that I have.
Glad you reposted...I loved reading this again! Your mother seems a force of Nature, and she clearly passed along her love of language to you. Beautiful.
She was indeed. I was blessed with a very, to put it politely, verbal family. Out loud and on paper. I’m deeply grateful for that now.
Loved this
“Feel something:” A tribute to your mother, who rode a swell of feelings that she channeled into words. I love this to bits. She would too.
Thanks, Rona. She would have printed it out and filed it under “Adam’s substack”
Beautiful
Thanks, Anna.
St. Paul, Minnesota...so yes the water^^^^
Yep! you got it from your mother^^ I know that water my mother Roxy Shulke came from the same place^^
Came into your comments section not knowing what I wanted to say, armed with only the words “Loved this.” Now reading the earlier comments I am not surprised to find I’m not alone.