A Note from Judy

I hope everyone enjoyed the summer that flew by and are settling back into the fall routine. The days are getting shorter, with September often houses beautiful weather.

August 1^st marked the thirty-fifth anniversary of my beloved sister Margie’s death, as many years as she lived. A part of me cannot believe it is real, and the lost memories still haunt me. Every time I step on the ice, I think of Margie. Margie’s vivaciousness, big personality, smile, incessant talking, and most importantly my idol despite her challenges. She will forever have an imprint on my heart.

Over the summer, I attended a wonderful writers’ conference sponsored by the Cape Cod Writers Center and directed by Nancy Rubin Stuart. One hundred writers assembled in Hyannis, MA. I took advantage of courses from an esteemed group of faculty and enjoyed a keynote address from Mindy Todd, Managing Director of Editorial, “The Point” Host and Producer of WCAI, an affiliate of NPR. My head spun from the breadth and wealth of knowledge from How to Write a Page Turner, led by Steven Manchester, and Essays: From Personal to Universal, led by Angie Chatman. The intimate and warm setting allowed for making connections, and inner growth as a person and writer.

On the night of the conference, an Abba concert played across the street at the Cape Cod Melody Tent. In the lobby, guests dressed up in paisley dresses, white go-go boots and flipped shoulder-length hair parted to the side held back with wide headbands celebrated the spirit of the era.

My two daughters and grandchildren live in Massachusetts and New York. In June, I helped my New York kids and grandchildren move to Florida. I wrote a piece about how I felt. Here is a snippet:

The family is moving south from the Northeast, further away, an airplane trip required, not a car ride. Will they remember the time spent with Nini? Nini’s hug? Nini’s smell? On this visit, before I ask the questions, I will listen, hear their voices, and let them show me what is outside. Seep into their smiles, smells, twinkle in the eyes, every minuscule thing that makes them unique. Imprint Benji and Madelyn onto my heart and brain. Relish the stillness of being present. No photos. Soak in the beauty and gift of grandchildren.

Lucky for the Florida crew’s visit in August. What a delight to watch the three cousins together. Benji, Jake, and Madelyn know Nini brings hugs, kisses, M&M’s, and stickers, our special ritual.

Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year, a two-day holiday that marks the beginning of the Jewish High Holy Days, a period of introspection and repentance leading up to Yom Kippur. It is a time for reflection on the past year and for looking ahead to the new year with hope and renewal.

For all who celebrate, I wish you and yours Shana Tovah (a good year), a sweet, peaceful and Happy New Year!

Book Corner

“After nearly two decades of clinical experience and her own journey after losing her mother to cancer, Gina Moffa, LCSW offers knows all too well how disorienting, painful, and lonely grief can be. In Moving on Doesn’t Mean Letting Go, she offers a heartfelt, practical map through loss—one that can shift the pain of your grief even when things feel unpredictable and overwhelming.”

Driving in the car, I’ve been listening to memoirs. My Mama, Cass struck me about sharing you love and loss after decades, honoring the memories of the mother, iconic music and person of Cass Elliot.

“To the rest of the world, Cass Elliot was a rock star; but to Owen Elliot-Kugell, she was just Mom.

In the nearly 50 years since Cass Elliot’s untimely death at the age of 32, rumors and myths have swirled about, shading nearly every aspect of her life. In her long-awaited memoir, Owen Elliot-Kugell shares the groundbreaking story of her mom as only a daughter can tell it.
written by the person who knew and loved her best.”

Memory

A photo taken in 1964, Margie age ten, me eight, and Jane five, feeding the birds at the Boston Common after a dinner in the North End. The unique personalities of the sisters showed in their stances. I held my hands together, ballet first position, the shy middle sister. In the middle stands Margie, gregarious, knees bent ready to run up to the birds and feed them breadcrumbs. Jane, the baby, carefree, floats her hand, timid to get close to the birds.

Skating

I’m breaking in new blades for my skates, the same blades but with a different feel, slicker and a rock forward, affecting the posture of the upper body. How long until I feel secure again on the ice? We are choreographing a new performance for the Christmas show in December. I need time to prepare to the lovely music of Somewhere Out There. What do you think of the dress?

I leave you with:

“You’re a hero in your own life.”

Chris Whitaker, All the Colors of the Dark

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I wrote Celebration of Sisters: It Is Never Too Late To Grieve to help other surviving siblings. If you know someone who would benefit, please pass along or share your thoughts by writing a review on Amazon: https://a.co/d/dVKPHpv

With deepest gratitude.