On the night my mother died, it snowed. I got the call from the hospital, and drove through the flake-laden darkness to her hospice room for the final time. Death had wiped away all signs of stress, my mom looked peaceful and at least ten years younger. I sat with her body for a bit, eventually moved to gather the flowers and cards and the blanket that had been knitted just for her. I paused at the door for one last look, and then the coroner came to take her away. The rest o

Through the years I have collected a number of calling cards or cartes de visite of people I wish I could have known. Their likenesses always spurred a certain sense of nostalgia, they seemed so relatable yet always out of reach. And forgotten- the images that were once part of a family's treasures were now amongst a pile of the images of many other strangers atop an antique store. They say that we die two deaths. The first death is that of our physical body, the second deat

Through the years I have collected a number of calling cards or cartes de visite of people I wish I could have known. Their likenesses always spurred a certain sense of nostalgia, they seemed so relatable yet always out of reach. And forgotten- the images that were once part of a family's treasures were now amongst a pile of the images of many other strangers atop an antique store. They say that we die two deaths. The first death is that of our physical body, the second deat