Stories I Tell Myself
Linda Brody Bakst on Brooklyn, growing up, identity and more
Category: aging
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Tomorrow is my birthday. I have ambivalent feelings about birthdays. A legacy of my Nana and Zada is my belief that one should celebrate whenever possible, since there is plenty of heartache in this world. I also believe that even though showing appreciation for the people you love should be a regular thing, and not…
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His skin is mottled, He is 94. He stands erect, He walks with assurance. He says, I feel the same as I always feel. Right now, I think. He can’t imagine feeling different, He doesn’t remember. Months before, winter of 2016, hospitalized 5 times or more in Florida, Weakened by persistent diarrhea…
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Driving from Brooklyn to Champaign-Urbana, I was always the first in my family to know that a farm was nearby. I picked up the scent of cow manure miles away. Cow manure was in wide use as we drove Interstate 70 through the farmland of Ohio, Indiana and Illinois. To some, who perhaps grew up…
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I was in social studies in 12th grade in 1975 and the class was discussing the nursing home scandal that was unfolding in New York City. Terrible details of elder abuse and neglect were emerging in the newspapers. The discussion moved from the scandal to elder care as a societal value. Our teacher explained that…
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We went to Florida to check on the folks. We left on a cold Spring day from Albany and arrived two hours later to a warm breeze in Fort Lauderdale. We picked up the rental car and got on the highway heading to my mom. “Enjoy this ride,” Gary, my husband, said with a laugh,…
