Mary Novaria

Featured at  My mother's boots were on the wrong feet. The family was gathering at our house on Christmas Eve and my mom had yet to arrive. In the past year she'd begun showing up uncharacteristically late for things: Mother's Day brunch, dental appointments and, most recently, picking up her grandson from school. It was snowing hard and she didn't answer her cell phone. I pictured her Mazda in a ditch -- much the same as I did when my teenager wasn't home by curfew. My mother finally stumbled through the front door, stomping fresh snow from her feet, and I gave her a big hug of relief. But when she plopped down on the steps in the hall to pull off her puffy, black winter boots, my sister-in-law and I locked eyes in shared disbelief. Click here to read more !

This piece first appeared in the Huffington Post on December 22, 2014 My mother's boots were on the wrong feet. The family was gathering at our house on Christmas Eve and my mom had yet to arrive. In the past year she'd begun showing up uncharacteristically late for things: Mother's Day brunch, dental appointments and, most recently, picking up her grandson from school. It was snowing hard and she didn't answer her cell phone. I pictured her Mazda in a ditch -- much the same as I did when my teenager wasn't home by curfew. My mother finally stumbled through the front door, stomping fresh snow from her feet, and I gave her a big hug of relief. But when she plopped down on the steps in the hall to pull off her puffy, black winter boots, my sister-in-law and I locked eyes in shared disbelief. OMG! Her boots are on the wrong feet! Suddenly the "mild cognitive impairment" the doctor had casually identified the previous spring didn't seem s...

There’s a lot of buzz about Meryl Streep’s new movie The Iron Lady and her intimate portrayal of Lady Margaret Thatcher’s dementia. Although folks seem to agree Streep’s performance is spot on (she just won a Golden Globe), there’s a lot of debate about whether the film is appropriate. The former Prime Minister is still alive, after all, and dementia flatters no one. The film got me thinking about the cruel stigma of illnesses that affect the mind and whether, as one reviewer said, The Iron Lady is despicable and voyeuristic. There is no dignity in dementia. Remember when people used to whisper the news that someone had cancer? “You know Aunt Millie?” they’d ask secretively, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “She has… (voice lowers, hand comes up to hide lips, the word is barely audible) cancer…” As if it were Aunt Millie’s own, shameful fault she had cancer. As if somehow she were dumb enough or careless enough to catch it. Even now, cancers that affect certain...