Posts Tagged: mother’s day

The Baby Bird That Allen Brought


I Don't Believe in Ghosts (So How Did the Empty Dog Kennel Break Down Our Door?)

I do not believe in ghosts. That's the first thing people usually want to know, after I tell them about the-things-that-happened-that-one-summer. I'm a vegetarian and I sometimes attend sweaty yoga classes, but for the most part, I'm not superstitious. I'm a reporter. I like facts. I get down with climate change, Inspector General reports, and the pill. So let's pretend that the-things-that-happened can somehow be explained by warming weather, coincidence, and a yet-unnamed mystery particle that straddles the border between matter and anti-matter.

Or, you can just say I'm crazy. But I'm not, really. Probably.

The story takes place in my former childhood home, where my sister and I spent [...]


58 Countries, Grandmothers: Gabriele Galimberti, "Delicatessen With Love"

In case you missed it and are feeling especially Mother's Day-ish: Slate has a really sweet photogallery of grandmothers with their signature dishes, more pictures of which can be found here.




“My daughter is now 36, and lives in San Francisco. I remember when she sold Girl Scout cookies door to door. Nobody ever really bought them. But she never gave up.”

To celebrate Mother’s Day, we talked with 20 moms during an overcast, leafy walk through Brooklyn. We asked them to describe memorable moments of their motherhood.

For the moms in all of us. 


What’s Essential: A Conversation with Nona Willis Aronowitz About Her Late Mother’s Work

Ellen Willis was born in 1941 in the Bronx, grew up in a middle-class family, and, for a while, did what was expected of her: she married “a nice Jewish boy from Columbia while majoring in English at Barnard,” writes her daughter, journalist Nona Willis Aronowitz, in her introduction to her late mother’s recently published compendium of essays, The Essential Ellen Willis. At 24, though, Willis divorced her husband, got an apartment in the East Village, and started writing about rock, politics, culture, feminism, and sex. She went on to become the first rock critic for The New Yorker, an editor and columnist at the Village [...]


Old Mom Stuff

Mother's Day, let's do this! Maybe your mom is not alive, maybe she is somewhere very different than you are. Maybe you're the mom, maybe your friend is a mom. Maybe you feel like the mom of a website.

In any case, here a few really lovely pieces we ran in advance of Mother's Day last year, and which — like so many things we've been lucky to feature — deserve repeat readings/viewings. I think so, at least!

- "Mothers' Day," by Drew Zandonella-Stannard

- "Moms," by Jon Cotner and Claire Hamilton

- "What I Meant to Do," by Simone Eastman

Also, why not, "[...]


The Agony and the Ecstasy of Having a Mother

When I was five years old, I had multiple obsessions: side ponytails, fuzzy stickers, and Teddy Ruxpin, to name a few. But my greatest obsession by far was my mother. I was head­ over ­heels, rom-­com-style in love with her. I followed her everywhere she went, hid in her skirts, and slept curled in her arms. I was a barnacle and she was my fungusy rock.

I loved her so much that I flat-­out asked her to marry me once. I don’t remember this, but she told me that one night she was reading me a bedtime story and I just blurted, “I’m nuts about you! When I grow [...]


A (Late) Mother’s Day Poem

This post is sponsored by the delicious caramel, chocolate and nougat inside every Milky Way®

I couldn’t make it to your brunch But I hope you had a lot of fun I want to explain to you why I flaked It has something to do with that guy I told you about, Jake?

We hung out last night and had an awesome time We were still hanging out this morning at 9 And, well, you always told me I should seize the day So I thought I would bring him to meet you, okay?

He’s totally sweet, and respects me, I swear Which is why [...]


Life, Love, Lower Learning

The other day my 15-year-old daughter and I were discussing her top choices for colleges, and she breezily mentioned that she didn't want to make the mistake of ending up like her poor uneducated parents.

Wait, what?

This comment thrown out so casually shook me. And, mind you, spoken from our hilltop home with the vast ocean view. Rented, yes, but we do live here, thank you very much.

But let me start at the beginning. I wasn't university material. My teachers told me I'd do great if I just applied myself, but I didn't have the patience or drive to seriously consider college. The vague marketing and business majors [...]


Mothers' Day

I have never had a driver's license. I have always had two mothers. As opposed to dismissing my utter fear of driving, I like to believe that this attachment to public transit was born out of a deeper history. I began with a bus. Or rather, a fleet of them. My parents drove trolleys. It was a good way to meet girls and they got to wear uniforms while navigating the steep hills of Seattle.

Together they bought a house. They acquired various cats and two labs. They got hitched in the backyard wearing matching tuxedos in 1983. They joined a parenting group for lesbians looking to conceive. Those lesbians [...]