Andrew Sarewitz
My Mother’s Armor
When I was very young, I went with my mother to a boutique in Short Hills, New Jersey, where she purchased two or three dresses. As I think back, there is one I thought of as special. I can still picture her wearing it. If I remember accurately, it was multicolored in soft blue and silver two-inch metallic squares, stitched together.
Conversations, Sometimes Interesting
The final days with my mother were interesting. “Interesting” has become an interesting word to me. It’s almost always said as a polite way of saying “bad” or “not for me.” The day-to-day visits with my mother were rarely the same. Some fine. Some difficult. Always, in a good sense, interesting.
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Death and Surviving
When I was in my late teens, seven of my father’s male friends died within a year and a half. Not husbands of my mother’s women friends. These were men my father knew independent of Mom. I don’t remember him outwardly showing emotion though I’m sure he was, at the very least, sad.
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Learning to Walk
I have been told that I am visually, and stereotypically gay. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I take it without an angry or even aggravated reaction.
When I was quite a bit younger, I accepted that I was unconsciously flamboyant, which I confess, I didn’t like, being a teen student in a judgmental arena.
When I was quite a bit younger, I accepted that I was unconsciously flamboyant, which I confess, I didn’t like, being a teen student in a judgmental arena.
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Was That All it Was?
To my parents’ dismay, I took full advantage of New York City’s disco era in the late 1970s till the mid-80s. I did go to NYU undergraduate, but if someone asks, “What was your major?” I answer “Night Life.”
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Baseball and Ballet
Parents want the best for their children, unless they’re psychopaths (the adults, I mean). But sometimes what a parent wants is what they believe is best, without recognizing where a child’s head and heart really are.
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Men Will Be Men
We haven’t spoken in years, but I almost always remember George’s birthday. The first day of summer. This year, it landed on Father’s Day. Without a message attached, he texted me a photograph of his family. Not the one that raised him when he and I were growing up. This is of him, his wife and three kids.
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Carmen and the Boys
If you walk the West End on Commercial Street in Provincetown, inevitably you’ll pass Joe’s Coffee and Café. Early morning, there’s a line out the side door for takeout and inside, the structure that had originally been designed as a bank, has seating throughout. Outside, in front, are a number of wrought iron tables painted wet-black, some under blue umbrellas for shade.
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The Sum of Our Differences Equals Mom
Just as a person may have unexpected contradictions to his temperament, two very different men can each mirror an individual they know well. My oldest sibling told me he sees himself as being a lot like our mother. It’s not that I didn’t believe him, I simply thought I was the one who wore the analogous traits. Since my brother and I practically live opposing lives, I hadn’t thought we both could carry on Mom’s personality. Mom died in 2014.
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