Amy Hill Hearth

Like most everyone else, my life has been upended by the Covid-19 virus. My mother died March 25 from pneumonia, possibly (I think now). She was 94 years old.

 

Because of precautions, we were not able to be with her during the last days of her life or when she passed away. We did not have a service for her – yet – because it wasn't safe for us to travel to the cemetery, located in Queens, N.Y. In the meantime, her ashes are in an urn at my sister's house.

I have found some solace in the knowledge that my mother was not alone when she passed away. A devoted nurse, who knew and loved her, was with her. It's not the same as having family with her, but I'll take it.

I'm grateful, also, that I had a wonderful visit with my mom not long before she died.

Numerous "Zoom" get-togethers with my three older siblings and their spouses have provided great comfort. On Mother's Day, we shared photos of her and told stories, again, all by Zoom. 

 

Most importantly, I'm grateful that my mother lived a very happy, productive and satisfying life. She was an unusual person, ahead of her time, a female mathematician in an era when that was rare. She was an interesting and fiercely-loving mother. And, although her body was frail, her mind was 100 percent until the end.

I know that everyone is struggling with the pandemic and now, the economic fall-out. Please stay safe.

I missed a pug named Audrey. Boston Terriers named Wonder, Lexi, Luna, Jax, and more. Beloved cats named Quentin and Benny.

 

I missed travel photos from my friends on vacation.

 

I missed photos of babies and old folks, newly-engaged couples, and family reunions.

 

I did not miss political posts. I did not miss angry or "negative" people. I did not miss toxic people who use Facebook as a place to vent all the time.

 

I did succeed in writing a lot more, which was my goal. It's hard enough to be a writer with all of the turbulence and distractions of this world. Add Facebook to the mix and it can be hard to stay focused.

 

But I miss it enough to come back for a while. 

 

 

 

 

You asked, so here it is, one of the most popular blogs posts I've ever written. Re-posted from July 3, 2015:  

 

One of the saddest moments when you've become an adult is when you realize that summer is not what it used to be.

 

Gone are the days of playing hopscotch, climbing trees, and getting on your mother's nerves.

 

Gone are the days when the only deadline is getting home in time for supper.

 

The lazy hours reading Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House" books, or playing King of the Mountain with the kids next door, has become a thing of the past. Long afternoons sprawled out in the grass, with nothing to do except study the shapes of clouds, are a luxury.

 

Strange that you have failed to notice that Mom has been working very hard to make your summer carefree. Picnic food miraculously appears in the refrigerator. It is prepared to perfection and placed in front of you, its nutritional value calculated in Mom's ever-vigilant mind. Dad comes home from work, where he has earned the money to pay for the summer road-trip, which he will plan with care.

 

(We will, as always, stay one night at a roadside motel because the owners have a goat, and all year long you – the youngest child – have been hollering, "Can we stay at the place with the goat?" Not only do you stay at the place with the goat, but Mom, who thinks of everything, has thoughtfully brought carrots.)

 

Somehow, the station wagon has got itself tuned up and filled with gas. Somehow, everything falls into place.

 

The hardest thing you have to do is decide which toys and books will fit into your little suitcase.

 

Next thing you know, you're in junior high. You are now moody and hormonal. Skinned knees have been replaced with zits. You have braces on your teeth. You quarrel constantly with your older siblings. Mom suddenly decides that what you need in the summer is a "schedule." You become a babysitter with regular gigs and a five-day-a-week volunteer at United Way.

 

You now own an alarm clock, and you own a watch.

 

In a flash, you have grown up. You have graduated college. You find your first real job, and are shocked to realize that you will work 60-plus hours a week, including most weekends and holidays, and – gasp – all summer long. There is nothing special about summer. Alas, it is just another part of the year.

 

You grieve.

 

But somewhere along the line, you fight to get summer back. Your older siblings begin to have children, which provides you with a great excuse. You take time off from work to be a doting auntie, and get to act like a child again.

 

You now look for ways to re-live the summers of your childhood. You arrange for the old family boat to be removed from storage, and rehabilitate it. You learn to pilot the old boat yourself.

 

You read outside. You lay in the grass.

 

You watch the clouds float by.

 

And you thank dear old Mom and Dad for teaching you the joys of simple summer pleasures which last a lifetime.

Before I start my little rant, please note that I do recognize the irony in the fact that you're reading it on a blog and that a lot of other people will see it when it's re-posted and shared later on Facebook et al. 

 

This is what I want to say: I have a love-hate relationship with social media!

There are moments when I think it's the best darned thing that ever happened. There is so much sharing and caring, if you pick your friends carefully and you don't engage with negativity. 

 

As a person who was raised to be polite, however, I am dismayed that social media tends to reward the noisiest and snarkiest among us. Evidently, it brings out the inner bully in a large number of people.

 

At its absolute worst, social media could lead to a world-ending war. It's an incubator and a megaphone for rage, conspiracy theorists, and terrorists.

 

On a day to day basis for most users, the dangers are two-fold: We are surrendering our privacy (to varying degrees, depending on how cautious you are). And, we are accepting a lifestyle that moves too fast.

 

Much too fast.

 

I have noticed that when I've been overly-connected to social media I'm not nearly as likely to watch a bird building its nest, to spontaneously call an old friend, or simply sit and watch the clouds go by. And yet those are among the things that nurture my soul.

 

There are certainly days when I wish we could turn back the clock.

 

But I can't give up on it – at least not yet. Right now it's a new invention. It's the wild west of our lifetime. Let's hope someone figures out a way to emphasize the good and get rid of the bad.

Good news! Streetcar to Justice: How Elizabeth Jennings Won the Right to Ride in New York, made the ALSC Notable Books list! (ALSC is the Association for Library Service to Children, a division of the American Library Association.)

 

This means a lot to me. I worked so hard on this book, perhaps harder than on any other book I've done. The research was extraordinarily challenging. The events took place in 1854-55, which may as well be a thousand years ago, and I was determined to use original resources. 

 

This meant countless hours at historical societies, universities, and, of course, libraries. Without the New York Public Library's main branch, and the Schomburg branch in Harlem, this book could not have been written. The archives there are priceless. 

 

Being selected for the Notable Children's Book 2019 list is special to me for an additional reason. When I was growing up I wanted to become a librarian. I remember the first time I said it and how my mother smiled with pride. Well, I never became a librarian but I'm one of those persons who writes the books that fill the shelves of libraries, so that's close enough.