Saturday, March 10, 2012
Our final event at the AVA Arts Center was a poignant occasion for many of us: Two years have passed since Jack made the portraits of the Hale Street Gang, Margaret is no longer with us, and of the original twelve memoirists, only five were able to make it to the closing reception. We wish to thank Bente, Margaret, Victoria, and the rest of AVA's staff for providing us with a truly memorable experience. The closing reception was attended by several children and grandchildren, some of whom had driven many miles on what luckily turned out to be a beautiful sunny winter day.
|Hannah Phillips, above, reads from a memoir by her grandmother.|
|D'Ann Fago and Idora Tucker. Rear: AVA's director Bente Torjusen.|
|Artist Joan Feierabend and friend. The cast is a souvenir of an icy fall.|
|Project leader Sara Tucker. That's Margaret in the distance.|
|Lydia English, author of A Woman's Legacy, and Pat Menchini.|
|Some people were too shy to read their work. Not this lovely lady.|
|Bonnie Willis, junior gangster.|
|Hannah and her grandmother, Idora Tucker. Cupcake, Gram?|
|Mary Jacobs, Hannah Phillips, Lydia English, Pat Menchini.|
|D'Ann Fago's Retrospective, in the adjacent gallery.|
|Charles Cooley and Janet Miller, at the AVA Gallery in Lebanon . . .|
|"Uncle Charles" presented Janet with a one-year membership . . .|
|. . . to the Greater Randolph Senior Center.|
|Janet is a photographer, a mother, and a grandmother.|
|We honored her at the closing party for her brother Jack's show.|
|Happy birthday, Janet, from your friends at the Senior Center.|
Friday, March 2, 2012
My mother, Idora, recently spent 11 days at Gifford Hospital, where they did a bunch of tests and decided she could use a pacemaker. Thus, at age 90, she became the first Gifford patient to receive a pacemaker from the hospital's surgical team. She described her surgeon, Dr. Ciccarelli, as "a dreamboat." (She was born at Gifford in 1921, delivered by Dr. Gifford.) She's home now and doing well. She wrote the following in the middle of the night, about a week ago.
A bag sits beside my chair. The label reads IDORA – Broken Parts. Next to it is another bag with the label IDORA – Repaired Parts. The first bag yields a package that says “Can’t hear.” The following conversation takes place:
– “Idora, can you hear me?
– [Louder] Can you hear me?
– I can now. My hearing aids would help.
– Oh, you have hearing aids. [Very loud] How about this?
That’s fixed. It goes into the bag of repaired parts.
Next – feet cold. Where are my sox? Oh. Right here. Put them on feet. Now feet are warm. Don’t put them in the bag of repaired parts.
At intervals my helper reaches into the bag of parts and inquires, “Is Idora still there?”
Next little bag of broken parts: Can’t see to read or sign permission slips.
– Can you read this?
– No. But where are my glasses?
– Here. How about now?
Fine. Into the bag of repaired parts.
Eventally the “broken parts” bag is empty. Everything has been put in good working order.