Direct Connections: My Mother, My Daughter And Me...
My mother always cared about her appearance. In the Hospice facility where she spent her last two weeks, the staff knew her as the woman who greeted her visitors wearing a stylish scarf and earrings. She jokingly recited a ditty she had learned from her 90-year old neighbor: “A little powder, a little paint, Makes you look like what you ain’t.” Food never stopped being of importance either. I drove around the streets of Denver looking for a place to find Pho for one of her last meals. I inherited my mother’s adventurous and discriminating palate and love of beauty. My ability to shop successfully for myself and others came from the years of shopping with my mother in New York in the 50’s. Her feet were small – 71/2 quad – which meant...
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