Oral histories provide not only details, but emotions that remain with people the rest of their lives. This beautifully written, from-the-heart blog entry that my friend Fran Tunno wrote drives this message home. It’s some of the best writing I’ve ever encountered. I hope you’ll enjoy it.
Although my mom embarrassed me daily during my childhood with things like girdle displays, dandelion picking and her Italian accent (to name a few) we almost never fought. I was more a mediator, like my dad. Actually, my father was a mediator poised for sainthood. His interactions with my mother left him at a level of martyrdom I couldn’t begin to approach. But I learned to hide my eye-rolling and imitations of…
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