A gracious reader just brought to mind for me the Yiddish words my mom would speak. I remember asking her about this. I thought she was speaking Polish. I only found out much latter that all these words were Yiddish. She would only say ever so very wistfully and all so full of nostalgia – my questions making her pause, quite overcome with emotion – that her mom and her friends were fluent and that she herself knew much more as a kid, but that what they spoke was strictly reserved to the house and forbidden to be spoken in public. She was being terribly evasive. It was as if she wanted to tell me so much more, but she couldn’t, as if that were for my own good. She had been whisked away to live with “Aunt Stella” in New Haven, Connecticut as a little kid (then in the country, having to walk a mile and some for the school bus). She was sooooooooooo nostalgic when saying the little she did.
I think of other things. Perhaps I’m reading into it, but my mom a thousand times pointed out what her favorite style of pottery was. I myself was quite an amazing potter (I very often had spectators when I set myself to it). She wanted white with blue stripes in the rough style of what’s pictured here (which I did not create), whether jugs, or plates or bowls, or flower pots.