The Burrow

This series of reprinted posts is a tribute to my mother, Esther Tamara Rukasin Annis, who died on December 5, 2013.  Fresh posts will resume sometime soon.  For now, I hope you'll spend the time with us as we remember our mom. "I am NOT an Old Lady", she said. JannyLou and G'ma and I were at what passes for a deli here in Tucson, chowing down on pastrami, turkey, and salami-and-eggs because that's what G'ma said when we asked her what she wanted to eat.  The fact that she's craving salty food might be coupled with the fact that her feet are a little bit swollen; I'm talking to the doctor in the morning. Today was girls' time. We weren't worrying about anything. I went to the pod castle after finalizing the flowers for the wedding.  I was feeling relieved, un-burdened, list free.  G'ma was, to my surprise, sitting on the couch in the family room, surrounded on each side by what passes for a handsome man in her arena, participating in...

This series of reprinted posts is a tribute to my mother, Esther Tamara Rukasin Annis, who died on December 5, 2013.  Fresh posts will resume sometime soon.  For now, I hope you'll spend the time with us as we remember our mom. You get what you pay for. The " 2 guys and a truck"  were exactly that - and they were 6 hours late, too. But G'ma is moved into her pod-castle, and nothing was broken or lost during the move. I probably should've checked the apartment before we left, but G'ma was in the car and it was already 4pm and I was tired. Very very tired. And she doesn't have to vacate the Old Folks Home space until mid-September, so I have time to dispose of the detritus left behind. I'm guessing that architects of pod-castles have determined that residents in Assisted Living spend most of their time in the bedroom. G'ma's is huge, with a picture window framing the mountains and the sunset. All of her bedroom furniture and some of the livi...

Esther Tamara Rukasin Annis Born February 19, 1923 Died December 5, 2013 A smart, thoughtful, interested and interesting woman. A loving grandmother and mother and aunt. She is wallowing in chocolate, Hershey's kisses on the side,  watching Christina-Taylor jump in mud puddles. Listen in to the conversation: "You're getting filthy, sweetheart!" "It's fun!" "Come, have some chocolate.... take more... don't be stingy with yourself." Peacefully,in her sleep, surrounded by her memories and supported by Hospice and staff and family, she left this world and is now reunited with the woman she used to be.  Sad but not tragic, her loss leaves a void to be filled with good books, loving children, and more photographs than any family should ever collect in ten lifetimes.  She will be missed and remembered. ***** I'm taking a funeral hiatus for the next few days. The Burrow will feature a series of...

When I left you, we were waiting for the kids to come home and finish the decorating. Their enthusiasm was overwhelming. I put turkey and Oreos in their mouths and suddenly there was energy aplenty. They hung the sign and snapped the photo and they didn't seem to think it was relevant that passage between the party and the main entry was obscured.   "They can pay attention and duck their heads," was the ten year olds' reply. I had nothing in the way of a retort.  One of my favorite things about parties in Tucson is that the Dads usually come along, too. Will's father listened  as I contemplated creating menorahs out of clay. When I was ready, the crowd gathered for a brief period of instruction. Instruction, you ask?   Yes, I reply.  Few of our guests had ever seen a menorah up close and personal before. I had some metal ones out on the table as exemplars, but once the artists got started, those became irrelevant. Some...

I"m typing at Amster's computer, smelling the roasted turkey cooling on the countertop.  Our joint Chanukah party is starting in two hours, and I'm in charge of the preparation. That's actually not fair to Amster and her family; they are in the midst of a major home renovation and spent last night putting in flooring and baseboards.  She's cleaned and reorganized and made the space available.  It's my job to create the foodstuffs and the activities and the story telling and the candle lighting ceremony.  This is our third year and we're getting more and more organized as time goes by.  The proof is right here - I have time to type to you. I stopped at her house on the way to my class this morning and put the turkey in the roaster. I remembered the rack and the bird and she had the cheesecloth in the storage bins.  I'm not sure why I use cheesecloth on top of the skin, but I do.  I didn't baste this beast nor add anything but a bit of oil drizzle...

There never was such a thing at Oceanside Junior High School. It was never considered. We bullied and were bullied and no one noticed. We lost family members and friends and there was no public outpouring of love or concern. We were there to learn the facts and figures the teachers had to offer. Our emotional lives were secondary. That's not the case these days. Schools are rising to the occasion, teasing out feelings and offering opportunities to share in public. Sometimes the activities are event specific, responding to a current horror. Sometimes the activities are more general, touching deeper pieces with a lighter touch. The day before Thanksgiving Break was just such an activity. Amphi Middle Schoolers spent the day moving from classroom to classroom with their homeroom advisories, writing letters to servicemen, creating Beads of Courage bracelets, sculpting beads from clay, and painting Ben's Bells flowers. As always, the principal invited me...

Celebrating the Saturday before left us in a quandary.  Everyone else was getting ready, buying groceries, setting the table, preparing for family and friends. We were finished, celebrated, overfed, and feeling the love.  There was no anticipation as the week wore on; we'd been there, done that. It was fun while Little Cuter and SIR were here, celebrating our faux-holiday.  Once they left, it ws merely awkward. ***** The buffet at the Country Club at the Omni Resort around the corner was a true extravaganza.  JannyLou and Fast Eddie invited us to join them for a meal none of us would have to cook ourselves.  Big Cuter, nursing a head cold, stayed at home.  Fast Eddie's sister declined to join us.  The four of us, old friends getting older, had omelets and crepes and roasted potatoes, skipping the oatmeal on the breakfast bar for the much more interesting shrimp and cucumber salad. Lunch was on the other wall - salmon and turkey and ham and potato...