Category: Wilson Family

My father, Aaron Weiss, died on November 4, 2017. He was one day shy of turning 99 years old, which he would have done the very next day. I can’t even believe that sentence.

How could it be that a man I’ve known my entire life is now to be referred to in past tense and left me and my sister, at my our seasoned age, fatherless? Hard to fathom, though of course, he lived well into his aging years—a timeless Duracell battery, so afraid of death that he white-knuckled life.

No matter how much my sister, Laura, and I tried to help him overcome his fear of the unknown, of that ultimate thing called “death”—and shower him with books and movies and conversations about beyond all of this—it never worked. He’d only sigh and say that he wished he could believe what we so believe, but that he just couldn’t. So he held on to his daily state of quiet depression fearing the inevitable but too afraid to do anything else he was quite capable of doing—like walking and staying awake and writing.

Continue reading ““TIME STOP!”- Aaron Weiss”

Happy Soon-to-Celebrate Mother’s Day! I’ve included a piece I wrote a few years ago with a re-touch, but the sentiment is the same. I have to admit that there’s a bitter-sweetness about this time for me. It  will be the first Mother’s Day without my beautiful mother. I know that many of you are experiencing a similar loss now as well, missing your mothers and grandmothers and others—like a phantom limb. My heart goes out to you, too.

My mother passed last year and the void echoes loudly. She was such a vibrant force in so many lives other than my own. A beautiful “Lilly” I will cherish forever. It’s the first Mother’s Day also for my entire family not having her to physically celebrate—sister, niece, great niece and nephew, my husband, sons, daughters-in-law, grandsons and legions of extended other family and friends who loved her so much. But among the many aspects of my Lilly that I long for is her beautiful voice and the songs she sang to us—and I now sing to my grandchildren. I so miss my sweet mother’s voice.

Right now, our precious country and entire planet need mothering like never before. Let’s make this a loving time. I’ll be lighting candles, gathering lilies and gardenias (her favorite flower), donating in my mother’s name–and being so grateful and blessed to be Momma, Nana, Auntie C, and Mama Cara. There is nothing better I’d rather be…

Continue reading “My Mother’s Voice…”

Could it really be 44 years since I nursed my firstborn in a sweet, long-ago rocking chair? And then two years later my second baby boy too? I try to recapture the feeling and smell and sound of it all. Such purity and innocence. The beauty of timing out the rest of the world while holding the entire universe in my arms. I could say no to everything and everybody without guilt because my baby came first. I could laugh and lullaby and coo and cuddle forever and it was alright. I would just rock on and it was as it should be. I knew my place and purpose and discovered the amazement of letting my body take over and do what it was born to do naturally. I never could have imagined that I was capable of nurturing another without running interference. Without me getting in the way of such loveliness…

It’s hard to envision that same me today. Yes, I’m way older (and so are those precious babies I held so close; now splendid men I adore), but the world as it was then has also changed. I often wish I could climb into that space and rock peacefully back in time and block out the daily batterings of overwhelming cruelty ricocheting around the world.

When did we become such an angry planet? Was this always so or do we just know more and much faster than ever? How is it right for mothers and babies of all species to be crying out to each other as the most horrific acts imaginable are happening to them? Every. Single. Moment? I won’t list them here. You know them well.

Continue reading “Mother’s Day Musings…”

And so exits one of the most beautiful beings in my life. My Aunt Rosie.

Rose Craig died on June 27, 2014. She was 97 years old. You may picture an old lady when I say those numbers, but only chronologically was that so. My Aunt Rose was ageless. A second mother to my sister, Laura, and me. A friend to the whole world so it seemed. Beautiful her entire life. Taking pride in her smooth, lineless features way into her final days and never without her makeup on, hair coiffed, nails polished, and in her younger days wearing gorgeous turquoise jewelry, waves of fiery reddish-auburn locks and shimmery blouses showing lots of cleavage. She was quite a looker. For me she always will be remembered having soft clouds of silvery white hair crowning her radiant smile. Hungarian-passionate, she took nothing in stride or lightly. Everything was just this side of drama times twelve—whether it was sorrow or joy amplified to the nth degree.

Just calling her on the phone was like a shot of happy-juice. In seconds you’d be showered with this joyful voice somewhere in the vicinity of Gypsy Rose Lee and Lucille Ball, “HELLO, DARLING!!!!!” And just like that you’d forget whatever pathos was leveling you at the time. Aunt Rose had that effect on absolutely everyone.

Continue reading “She Would Never Let Us Say “Good-bye”…”

“Oh very young
What will you leave us this time?
You’re only dancing on this earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddy’s best jeans
Denim blue fading up to the sky.

And though you want them to last forever
You know they never will
You know they never will
And the patches make the goodbye harder still.”

~ Cat Stevens

They arrived on this planet in the early seventies, 1971 and 1973 to be exact. My sons, Ethan and Jesse, both came home from the hospital to the tune of the exact same song played on the radio two years apart: Tin-Tin’s, “Toast and Marmalade for Tea.” That song is now the song we play to celebrate their birthdays. It still makes me cry every time I hear it.

As both of their birthdays are about to be celebrated I’m feeling especially mushy (and old!) now in my reminiscing of that time. On April 17th, Jesse will be 40 years old. And on April 27th, Ethan will be 42! How in the world did that happen!??? They’re both catching up with me.

Born in the L.A. spring it was a joyful time to get to know each other. Everything was sunny and fresh and I would rock and nurse their beautiful little bodies in the sunshine on our deck surrounded by the sharp pungent smell of Eucalyptus trees and the brilliance of begonias and camellias everywhere.

Yet life outside this bucolic setting wasn’t always so sweet. To give you an idea of what the headlines were like back then here’s a quick glimpse of some of the key aspects that pop out at me. I remember the political backdrop of such innocence during those child-rearing times often being in counter-balance to what was going on in the “real” world. For me, the late sixties and seventies were a kaleidoscope of emotional sound and site-bites – so many triggers of pain, pathos and prayers for peace: Kent State and the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty, Southern whites storming a bus to prevent integration, the Chicago 7, the death of Janis Joplin, the first Earth Day celebration, the Pentagon Papers, Watergate, the Native American Movement at Alcatraz, Vietnamization. I was watching the unthinkable on TV – race riots and Vietnam protests. So much horror. Brutality. (Though it seems like Disney compared to what we’re experiencing today.)

Continue reading “A Happy Birthday Thank You, to Ethan and Jesse”