when i was 15, in 1965, my mother took me to new york city. this was an honour (being the middle child of a large family). i had never been away from home. when we arrived, my mother basically turned me loose (she was that kind of a mother). i felt like holly golightly (breakfast at tiffany's was and still is my favourite movie). i discovered a vibrant world full of difference and possibilities. i bought my first mini skirt off a sidewalk rack (which my father wouldn't let me wear when i got home - toronto of the '60's was still very uniform and concervative). i discovered large garlic dill pickles from deli barrels and good strong coffee . i went to carnegie hall to see dick gregory with a boy i met in the hotel elevator. i arrived home 5 days later a changed person. my world had grown.
next thursday, on the first anniversary of my mother's death, my daughter and i are going to new york city. we're taking some of my mother's ashes and sprinkling them in central park. 10 years ago (before alzheimers set in), my mother asked us to do this.