Defying gravity and modesty at the same time The technlology isn’t perfect and I’m far from it. So this is just an adjunct to the last post with proof of my enthusiasm for not giving a damn and trying to do a cartwheel in a dress. My grandfather loomed large in our lives. Grampa Mike… Continue Reading
Author Archives: Risa Nye
Enter Laughing
Keep an eye on these eyebrows After several unsuccessful attempts going from Yiddish to English on the online Yiddish dictionary, I typed in “mischievous child” and there it was: Mazek! It’s what people called me as far back as I can remember. (While I was at it, I looked up one of my dad’s nicknames for… Continue Reading
Kindergarten
Can you find me? Hint: I’m the only girl with pigtails! School! So exciting. This is the class photo that some kind relative sent me after the fire. I can’t name all the kids anymore, but I do remember many of them. And of course, my teacher, Mrs. Wiley. I think she liked me. She… Continue Reading
More Little Me
My excellent penmanship Awwww. This is the thank you note I mentioned earlier — the one my sister and I sent to my dad. It was tucked inside the envelope with my mom’s letter to him. A pretty good signature for a not-quite-three year old! ( I may have had some help.) My sister Susie and I… Continue Reading
Cubby!
I was sad to read that Annette Funicello passed away. She was one of my favorites on the show. This was an early post in Zero to Sixty in One Year, but I’m dusting it off for any old-timers out there who loved the show the way I did. He was my first crush. Cubby… Continue Reading
These letters were written by my mom to my dad during the Summer of 1954. He was in New York, at Columbia, doing graduate work while my mother, my sister and I stayed with my grandparents and uncle in Detroit. Reading these letters (which we found hidden in a dresser drawer after my parents passed away) should… Continue Reading
In the Beginning
Here’s the scene from Gone with the Wind as I remember it, without actually looking: Scarlett, Melanie, India and Mrs. Meade are seated in a tight circle around a table. The clock on the mantel ticks loudly in the dimly lit room. The women have needlework in front of them. There is tension in the air.… Continue Reading
Day One
It’s my birthday. For a couple more hours, anyway. I’m starting this blog with the intention of keeping it up for one year. It’s a challenge I set for myself: look back over the last 59 years and try to make some sense out of what I remember. Each month I’m going take on a… Continue Reading