All I can seem to complete these days are jigsaw puzzles. One after another. Have pieces of three puzzles, 500 pieces each, all with train themes, spread out on my glass table at once. Something I once did effortlessly as a child on a rainy day. Now it’s do-able, but not effortless.
Until next time,
Alison
DEAR MRS. GOLD,
I am moved beyond speech by Anne Frank Remembered. I expected to fly through it, but I am transfixed by Miep, her expressiveness, her voice, her life, her reactions to people. She is quite an amazing human being all right. I had to put the book down when, after reading the table of contents, I flipped through the pictures and came at last to Miep reading the Diary.
Then I went to your website and could not find info on how you happened to choose to write this book. Please let me know where I can find this information, or if you have time, please tell me a short version? I see you were in NYC, Mexico, etc. So, what was the connection to Miep? And who are you?
Hoping to know,
Bram Cloet
DEAR SIMON,
Arrival of a script and DVD too late to play for Miep: Souvenir d’Anne Frank, in seven parts, by Ensemble Colin Decio’s Piano Trio, Staines, Middlesex, UK, with songs and dialogue taken from our book. Here’s a description of some of it from the script:
First Movement: Miep Gies, Begins with Japanese bell/sounding bowl with recorded ‘soundscape’ of war. At first, sounds of modern warfare. Iraq, Sri Lanka. Women and Children crying out in different languages. Rwanda, Vietnam, Korea.
The Woman: ‘I am not a hero’ Miep said, ‘I stand at the end of a long, long line of good Dutch people who did what I did and more …’
Azusa: (in Japanese) And yet …
MUSIC: The music of First Movement begins.
The Woman: When Miep first saw little Anne she was hugging her mother’s skirts at her father’s office in a fluffy white coat. She looked up and curtsied. She was four.
What are your thoughts?
A.
Made a vat of curried pea soup. Froze some for Ukrainian neighbor
DEAR BRAM CLOET
Thank you for your kind words. They’re especially appreciated since Miep’s death has left a gaping canyon in my life. Thinking about our long friendship and about our book is bittersweet. I still can hardly believe that my North Star is gone. My publishers insisted that I write an autobiographical note for the flap, but it was a struggle to manage even a few lines since I consider myself a catalyst, a channel only. Once finished, my books have their own life and no longer need me. I am of no relevance.
Wishing you luck.
Alison Leslie Gold
Small tangerines with attached branches hung on my front doorknob in a plastic bag
DEAR LILY,
I’ve just failed to write a response to a reader, one Bram Cloet, who wanted to know about my initial connection to Miep. Even if I had the heart for it, I’d find it impossible to explain to anyone how this meeting was the touchstone that altered me entirely.
I am leaving soon for Greece. Am hoping that I’ll see some of your family on Hydra, that I can visit you, bring breakfast, or afternoon wine, and be close. Tinneka is planning to join me for a week though I’ve warned her that I’m not good company.
Alison
DEAR DENNY,
A disastrous visit made by Tinneka to be with me on Hydra for a week. I’d warned her that I would not be easy to be around. And I wasn’t. Everything T. did irritated me, from putting the same number of raisins into her muesli every morning, to accidentally defrosting my refrigerator. The sour smell of red wine seeping from her pores and breath. Only the sex was elevating. Could not wait to be alone again. (I know T. felt unsettled too and complained we were not ‘inspired’ by one another.) Generally, I can’t stand people anymore. What is it Estragon says in Waiting for Godot? ‘People are bloody ignorant apes’? More than ever, I know what he meant, beginning with myself. Full stop. While visiting Lily’s grave after T. left (a very windy day), a mote flew into my eye. I had the last pocket handkerchief Lily gave me in my bag – the ecru and black, pinstripe silk lattice-edged circular one. I used it on my flooding eye. The hankie was washed and folded by Lily thirty years ago. It’s hardly been used by me since, never for my nose but only for my eyes or the back of my neck.
Lily’s house was dark, doors and windows shut, no family member present, casting a further pall over the visit.
I hope your treatments are helping. That you haven’t stopped working is good news. My month’s stay is flying by. I return to New York next Monday.
A.
DEAR ALISON,
Hallo! You remember that our cat Nico ate a mouse and got very sick. The surgery cost us €1000 so we did not think we could come to Hydra, but we took Nico to an audition for a movie at the end of the winter. Because he uses his right front paw to scoop his food out of the tin, he got the part, earned €6000. So now we are here. We’re sorry we missed you on Hydra. We brought Nico with us and put screening around the room since he must not go outside, being no longer a free Greek cat. He has many girlfriends that jump onto the terrace to admire him. He saw us eat a tomato, then he ate one too. He must not gain any weight, as if he weighs more than seven kilos he will not be allowed back on the plane.
Alles Gute. Tschüs,
Boris and Agatha
Is Elizabeth Taylor dead? Unverifiable
DEAR DEAR TINNEKA,
I’m sorry that your visit to Hydra was such a disaster. I know you didn’t mean to defrost Lily’s soup. Forgive me for being such a dull and sullen companion. I’ve preserved your beautiful hardwood voice on my answering machine along with other precious voices.
Because of our rift, I listen to your message to feel close to you. I’ll make a reservation as you suggest, so that we can repair what needs repairing. I’m not ready to pack it in either. I agree that our pluses trump what fails to work. It would be a shame not to save what pleases us both. I look forward to seeing you soon.
Yr. A
DEAR SISTERS,
A call from Tinneka yesterday, announcing: ‘I’m in Perpignan hospital. I have pancreatic cancer. It is inoperable. It has already metastasized to liver, etc. Stage four.’
The doctor has told her she has around three months to live. When she asked the doctor if anyone has lived longer with such a prognosis, the doctor told her, ‘Yes, one lived thirteen years.’ T. in awful pain, will receive chemo once a week. When the doctors figure out how to manage her pain, she plans to go back home and put her affairs in order. She was stoical. We agreed that I would come when she gets home.
T. says: ‘Please come then. I’m a spider in a web now. Let me buy you a ticket.’
‘I’ll check on tickets,’ I told her. ‘Will let you know when I do.’
Ali
DEAR SISTERS,
Tinneka’s GP offered to take Merlot, the shy Alsatian dog we walked many times up and down the long drive lined by umbrella pines. This is the creature who helped me overcome the lifelong fear of dogs caused by bullies who used to set dogs upon me in childhood.
T. said on the phone, ‘I want a lot of you.’
She has gained three kilos, is retaining fluids, has a very dry mouth. In trying to organize her legal affairs she had the village notary visit, and at one point asked for my bank information. When she complained that her feet are impossibly cold, I ran over to Saks and sent several pairs of thick cashmere socks by Fed-Ex to the hospital.
Ali
DEAR SISTERS,
The pain has stabilized. T. can probably go home tomorrow or the next day. I need to confirm my booking. The socks I over-nighted arrived but were too small for her feet – I forgot about the lengthy big toes. At least we had a laugh.
Your
Ali
DEAR SIMON,
After speaking on the phone to my friend Tinneka every day, there’s no answer for two days on her phone at Perpignan Hospital.
I’ve reserved a
flight and want to let her know. Since you speak French, would you be kind enough to calculate the hour difference and phone the hospital and see if perhaps she has gone home (though there’s no answer there either) or elsewhere. It’s the gastroenterology section of the hospital.
Thanks, Simon. I await news.
Alison
DEAR ALISON,
The hospital told me that Tinneka died two days ago. I’m very sorry. Sorry indeed.
Simon
While crossing Madison Avenue, my foot twisted in a pothole. In a blink I had crashed down onto my hands and knees. A man older than me picked me up. Now I am just another old lady who falls down in the street
DEAR DENNY,
They gave Tinneka at least three months, if not more. She was gone in two weeks. I know you know my shock, the regret I feel that I didn’t go to Perpignan like a shot. I listen again and again to her voice on my answering machine. It cuts.
On a different note, I asked my doctor: ‘If I could only convince myself to do one exercise, what exercise should it be?’ She (an ex-dancer as well as an acupuncturist) replied: ‘A rowing machine.’ I then researched and ordered a German-manufactured Kettler. When it was delivered I laboriously assembled the parts that left me with a sleek, metallic gray and silver machine which I used for ten minutes the first day, five minutes the second day, five minutes a week later, and not at all since – though I’ve tripped over it several times in the night.
I’ve hardly been able to think about Tinneka. Two nights ago (it’s always in the middle of the night) a call from my mother’s aide. An ambulance had been called. I met my mother and her aide in the ER on First Avenue where we’ve already been so many times. She couldn’t breathe, was told she’s contracted pneumonia, though it took the entire night and part of the morning until they finished tests and found a room for her on a new cardiac unit. (Not one chair in the ER patient area on which a visitor can sit. Had to stand all night and morning, leaning against the iron bars of her bed. When I die, I’ll bequeath money for chairs in the ER there.)
She seems to be responding to treatment so, yesterday, Sunday, I brought her a DVD of The King’s Speech that she’s been wanting to see. I set up my computer on the hospital bed beside her.
They told me she would be getting out, so yesterday I went down to their apartment in the Village, first to pick up a bag of clothes, underwear, etc., everything she’ll need to go home, including a $20 bill in one of her shoes for a taxi. My sister was going to pick her up, but last night Mother began having blood pressure problems, then violent diarrhea began. The diarrhea’s been attributed to a (hospital-caused) bacterial infection called C. diff. Since C. diff. is terribly contagious, they’ve moved her to an isolation room. Those of us who visit must wear paper gowns, gloves, slippers and facemasks. More soon. I could lie down on the floor and sleep for a month.
A.
Fastening my spine to the center of the earth
DEAR NANCY AND ALI,
When I brought Mom home yesterday, and got her settled in her bed, she told me she doesn’t feel able to stay at home anymore. Very sad seeing her in such bad shape. Feels like a no win.
The kids and I have been Yarn Bombing our town non-stop, especially knitting orange squares that stand for bullying that we hang on Stop signs. Get it, Stop Bullying! I’ll take a break from our public outrage and begin to contact places and arrange visits.
Maggie
DEAR ALLISON,
It was nice to meet you in Berlin. Unfortunately my English is not good enough for longer conversation so I write this letter as I can and sent it first to my son who did some corrections.
Well, the oldest friend of my mother, her Jewish school-colleague from Zagreb, who survived Shoah until 1943 by escaping to the Italian zone and afterwards by connecting to the Partisans, happens to live in New York. In 2004, we could find her, kept in touch with her until February or March 2007. Then she has not answered my last mail and we have heard nothing from or about her. Her name is Judith Dobnarova, she was a designer, in the last time occupied with painting and writing her memoirs. She had a very exciting life, at least at wartime, and I had an idea to make a project with her and my mother, about two friends who meet after sixty years. My mother was also, as a very young woman, in a political internment camp in Zagreb, arrested by the Ustaše. Judith wished to meet with my mother. But now we don’t know what is going on with her at all. She may be ill or perhaps she moved to her sister, who lives in Florida. So I would be very thankful if you could find out something about Judith. My mother sends greetings to you. Bora too.
Lydia
Prancing rights and wrongs with stinging tails needling this hard head
DEAR ALI AND MAGGIE,
I have the name and information about three, actually four, places upstate near me since Mom is probably still able to go into an Assisted Living place. There is one in Kingston costing $3,600/month, no down payment, just a monthly fee (Mountain Valley Manor). The second is in Rhinebeck (Terraces) and is a little classier and costs about $5,200/month, no down payment. The nursing home in Kingston is Medicare-covered for twenty days and then a down payment of $10,000/month. Both Assisted Livings have hospice care or a Baptist nursing home when she needs that. I’m planning to visit all of them on Tuesday. I haven’t forgotten my promise to bring some of my shortbreads to both of you when I see you. Tell me which you prefer. Rosemary? Or lavender? That is if I can find my way through the maze of Yarn Bombs in your wake. Never a dull moment, Maggie.
Nancy
DEAR NANCY AND ALI,
I’ll take lavender, Nan. Maybe a few with rosemary. If I can, I’ll drive up early Tuesday and visit too. I have to say no to Baptist. Not going to a Christian home was the one thing she requested. Let’s check out Rhinebeck first. And Jewish-ish places.
Maggie
DEAR NANCY AND MAGGIE,
Went to see her, she looks like hell, needs oxygen and sleep. When I asked how the diarrhea was, she said she’d never had it. She claims that someone has stolen her wedding dress. I walked her from closet to closet, found it in the back bedroom cupboard that belonged to Dad. It hangs beside what was her prom dress.
About Jewish places (strange, as they never took us even once to a synagogue), Jerry recommended the Jewish Home on West 106th Street and the Amsterdam Nursing Home on 112th and Amsterdam Avenue. Until we can put together some kind of next step, and since two of her present aides refuse to work while she has this infection, we need more help. So I’ve been interviewing possible new, more foolhardy, aides. Have found a nurse who moonlights named Milagra, and another named Leonora whom I’ll see on Wednesday. Nancy: Remind me what the hourly rate is please. Oh: I prefer rosemary. Also: I got a card in the mail from Dorothy’s cemetery reminding us that Dorothy’s ‘Yehrzeit’ Anniversary is on the 30th. Good night for now my two allies. Are you as drained as I am?
Ali
SISTERS
Woodland Pond. A private room with bathroom and shower outside, $449 a day = $163,885 a year. Oy. I hope we can make some sort of move before July, as I’m told July has five Fridays, five Saturdays and five Sundays, which happens only once every 823 years. No worries, you’ll both have all the shortbreads you can eat. I’ve been baking and freezing all week. I’ve added coconut to my repertoire.
Your sister Nancy
DEAR SISTERS,
The nursing homes are all glorified hospitals. They look like hospitals, smell like hospitals, feel like hospitals – the kind you never leave.
Due to the New York State law re Mom’s feeding tube, this is the only kind of place she will be eligible for. I’ve now visited two. Amsterdam House is across the street from St. John the Divine. Immaculately clean, very well maintained. Mostly private rooms. Can’t bring one’s own furniture. Waiting list two to three months. Private room $555 per day. The Jewish Home felt like a hospital upon entering. Lots of activities, ‘Rappin’ with the Rabbi’, courses in Jewish culture, theater arts, concerts, movies,
a drumming circle. Like a mini 92nd Street Y. Dorothy might have adjusted; Mom, the snob, would hate both of them.
I’m touring two New Jersey places tomorrow nearby me. I’m starting to wonder what sense it makes for her not to be near any of us.
Maggie
DEAR SISTERS
Another Jew adds her two cents. Let’s just fucking drug her and drag her someplace. No place will be perfect for her. Between us, we’ve looked at a dozen places, a good cross section. No one can do more. Look at how worn out we all are. No more. She HAS to try.
Nancy
DEAR ALISON,
– About your rowing machine here’s my newest theory. Cardiovascular exercise does not prolong life – This is because whatever we do, our heart will wear out – Do we drive faster to lengthen the life of our car? – No – Want to live longer? – Lie down and rest! – That’s what I’ve been doing, trying to refill a leaky well – It’s no one’s fault that my back and eyesight have been ruined by my profession as an editor. Or that changing ‘disinterested’ to ‘uninterested’ has made me a niggling bore – Had I been working on an animal preserve in Africa all these years, my health might have been ruined by the sun, parasites, disease.
Catch kisses,
Denny
DEAR PAUL,
I keep forgetting to ask about what’s happened to your mother’s little canary, Pete, the bird with the soft chirps? Is Pete still alive? Regards from icy New York.
Alison
Necking with Grace Kelly while Toshirô Mifuni looks on with disapproval, withholds my mail. Realize I necked with him once when we were on a Swiss train together. Woke in a sweat
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