…stories. My daughter-in-law Michele wrote me a very sweet email after reading my last blog, regarding my recollections of childhood memories. She wrote as long as I have known you, you’ve always been a mother figure, so it is really enjoyable to learn about your childhood and teenage years, those years before you were a Mom. I got thinking about that and it’s true that I have just a few stories my Mother told me about her youth and I really enjoy them. I think sometimes we hear about the hard times our parents or grandparents might have had, but never what they were feeling their first day of school, or their first boyfriend. We tend to share with our friends stories of our youth, but only when something comes up that reminds us. I have a friend who tells the story of how every Saturday she and her brother went to the movies, she remembers right down to the cost of the movie, popcorn and ice cream. One Saturday they decided to take their dog with them, so they put him in a paper bag and off they went. They paid their money to get in and I think they had bought their popcorn and ice cream and then management discovered they had their dog with them and were kicked out of the theater. I probably don’t have all the details exactly right but when she recounts this story she is still upset that they paid for everything and then were asked to leave. This is a story that perhaps her children have heard but how enjoyable would it be for her grandchildren and their children. I think now that we have a lot of time on our hands, it would be a great time to write down our memories of growing up. One memory a day would make a really nice gift to leave for future generations. I am reminded of a memory that one of my favorite mentors told me. I call Daisy my mentor because she was well into her 90’s and was one of the most interesting people I have known. She read every page of the New York Times every day and could speak on any topic; books, world happenings, fashion, you name it and she knew it. This one day she was recalling memories and she said that as a little girl she was invited to a friends house for dinner. On the table was something she had never seen. It was a loaf of bread that had been sliced. You could buy bread at the store, but it was never sliced. She was so impressed with this that when she got home she excitedly told her mother about this sliced bread. To her disappointment her mother said, “how lazy do you get”. I’m hoping her grandchildren and their children will know Daisy through stories such as this one. She was a great mentor, by her example you could live well into your 90’s and still be involved in learning and life. Daisy, along with keeping up on all that was happening also had a Manhattan every day and played poker on Sundays up until a week or so before she died.