"Max" 1980 - 2005

R.I.P. little meatball...

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Beware the Shiny Upgrade

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I reach for the bananas in the grocery store and feel an unexpected pang of sadness. Out of the blue, I miss my mother.   Over years of her decline, I chauffeured her on errands and sighed deeply when she admitted she’d meant to make a list, but…   I knew what would be on the list—muffins, butter pecan ice cream and bananas—but I wanted her to write it all down. Addled by dementia, not only did she forget to make shopping lists, she often couldn’t remember how to use her cell phone or turn on the TV. I knew it wasn’t her fault. Even so, there were times when my patience wore thin. If only she could jot down a few grocery items on a piece of scrap paper or the back of an envelope, I could take it as a sign that she still had some faculties. Twenty months after her death, here I am frozen in momentary grief in front of the banana stand. We didn’t agree on bananas. I preferred them firm and still tinged with green, she agreed with Chiquita Banana’s recommendati...
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