When mom put me in jail

When I was four or five, mom took me to the police station. It is possible that this is something that I had asked her to do for me. While there, the officers showed us around the station, including putting me into one of the cells and closing (but not locking) the door. The cell contained two bunks that were basically shelves attached to the wall, and a toilet in between. I thought it was great, but I didn't like the idea of using the toilet without a door.

I am considering doing the same for Ali. Maybe this weekend.

My Apologies

I am getting worse at maintaining this. My apologies to all. In part, it is because I am running out of good stories that are suitable for the open internet. I have stories that are unsuitable because they involve others in a manner that would cause unhappiness, anger, or lawsuits. I have others that cannot be told here because they are too personal. I have ones that would likely only men something to me.

That said, I still have stories that would work here, and God knows I have photographs that could keep this thing running for years.

Right now, though, my main problem is that I am too busy. I have too much on my plate. I will continue to update the blog but, for now, it cannot be at the same original pace.

One thing that can help is if you all share your stories. I need your help. Sylvia, you have never needed this kind of push, and I appreciate your help more than you know. Everybody else, get crackin'.

From my Aunt Elizabeth

I know this is very late, but here is what my paternal aunt, Elizabeth, wrote in response to news that mom had died:

"I have wept some tears for a woman I wish I had known. She was truly amazing and I feel inspired by her. The photo so reminded me of the time I did have the brief opportunity to meet her. As you know, she braided my hair and sat with me on the sofa..very soothing indeed. I know that you came once with Linda and Art as a very young baby. My mother went in the bedroom where ya'll were all sleeping and picked you up..you were crying. Your parents were asleep.

Memories are such treasures when we do discover them deep within us. I am so very glad she had such an amazing son as you in her life. She will rest peacefully knowing her life here had so much meaning. All of you will live on as she would want.

"My heart is touched with love for you and your sisters."

Elizabeth

As for her brother, my father, the Reverend Art Lester, he spake thusly:

"Very sorry to hear the sad news, Jake. On your birthday, almost."

Art

No comment.

Linda in 1947

This one must have been taken in the Summer of 1947. It is strange to think that mom was born during WWII and died during the Iraq war. The moral difference is simply mind-blowing.

Random Linda Photo

This is a photograph I found in Mom's photo boxes. I have no idea who any of the people are, but I would like to. Does anybody know who any of these people are?

Youssef

Sarah's boy, Youssef, is growing by leaps and bounds, and will clearly be a heartbreaker. Here is a link to a video of him showing off his language skills:

Home-made Mayonnaise

Bear with me as I recuperate. For now, here's yet another comment about mom and mayonnaise:

For as long as we lived in Cairo, mom made mayonnaise at home. Although local versions of mayonnaise were completely awful, mom claimed that she made the mayonnaise because purchasing mayonnaise at the prices there was a waste of money.

Is it just me, or was mom ever thrifty in anything else? There was of course, her preference for cheap (horrible) jeans. Otherwise, mom was just a big, generous spendthrift. My theory is that she made the mayonnaise so nobody could monitor exactly how much of it she ate!

Mom's mayonnaise was often very good, although she changed recipes often (did you know there were a lot of them?).