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by Nidra Poller (March 2009)

July 2007
A grandmother of my vintage—I was born in 1935—is the receptacle of so many additions…so many subtractions…such intricate juxtapositions…
…a woman my age is the accumulation of so many times and places, the junction of generation upon generation and, today, a person in her own right acting in the world with the full force of her individuality. A little old lady-- bubbe, babushka, granny—sits in a rocking chair deep in the heart, chewing her teeth, worrying a handkerchief. Who will accompany my generations as they skirt dangerous neighborhoods? Are the airplanes safe, the highways patrolled, the doors locked; are the young ladies fertile and the young men good providers, are the schools good, the teachers smart, the grades fair; is the future bright?  The young reply: Not to worry, grand-mère. T’inquiètes. Meaning ne t’inquiètes pas.  more>>>