Stories I Tell Myself
Linda Brody Bakst on Brooklyn, growing up, identity and more
Category: Relationships
-
When I arrived on campus at SUNY-Binghamton in August of 1976, I was 16 and emotionally fragile. I emerged from the disaster that was junior high school and had grown more socially competent through high school, but I was still a bundle of insecurity. Plus, though I didn’t understand this about myself yet, I was…
-
I was taking another drive to New Jersey recently. Usually I listen to music, but I have been exploring podcasts. A friend recommended Marc Maron’s WTF, saying he was a good interviewer. He’s also a comedian so I thought there could be some laughs. I enjoy a good interview and laughing so I decided to…
-
Yesterday was Mother’s Day. It was a wonderful day for me – I felt loved. Need I say more? Probably not, because that sums it up pretty well. But, I do want to say more (otherwise I wouldn’t have much of a blog post, would I?). I came across an essay by Anne Lamott, a…
-
Whose fault was it? Gary’s or mine? I’m actually not sure. When we’ve told the story over the years, Gary has taken the blame. But I’m not sure that’s how it went. It doesn’t matter because the outcome was the same. We were almost stranded on a Sunday evening, in the middle of a national…
-
My friend Merle, who knows about these things and knows me as well as anyone, suggested I keep a gratitude journal. Not that I am not grateful for the blessings in my life already, but if I wrote, even briefly, each day about positive, joyful moments it might help move the needle from my tendency…
-
As I reread my previous post about “The Match,” I realized there are some pieces of the story I wanted to add. Once again, the beauty of a blog presents itself: I can add to the history I am sharing whenever and however I want! Of course, hopefully I am keeping it coherent and interesting!…
-
Towards the end of Gary’s third year of medical school, we were thinking about next steps. Though graduating from medical school is a significant milestone, it isn’t close to the end of the journey. Internship, residency and, likely, fellowship remained to be completed. And, before he could begin, he had to go through a process…
-
Sometimes I slip and say, “when we went to medical school.” Of course, I know that I didn’t go. In fact, when I would meet Gary on campus, we would take a short cut that went through the anatomy lab. I kept my eyes tightly closed, held my breath and he guided me through as…
-
One challenge in writing this blog is that it is disjointed. I’ve jumped around quite a bit, while still trying to follow some threads in a coherent way. I appreciate you readers taking the journey with me. Hopefully it hasn’t been too confusing! In preparing to write this piece, I reread a bunch of posts…
-
Note: At the end of this piece, Gary offers his perspective. It was the beginning of our relationship. Gary and I had long conversations about our histories, comparing our families, and sharing our dreams for the future. I knew the broad outlines of his family background, that his parents were Holocaust survivors who had not…
