Dear Reader,
Today’s guest author, Mary MacCracken, shares her latest memoir, The Memory of All That: A Love Story about Alzheimer's, with five book club readers. To win one of the copies, email: [email protected]
The Memory of All That: A Love Story about Alzheimer’s tells the story of her love affair and long marriage to her brilliant husband Cal--and how, when Alzheimer's hits, Cal's courage and Mary's resourcefulness help them triumph over the challenges raised by his disease. Mary died shortly before finishing the book she promised Cal, so her daughter, Susan Thistle, saw it through publication.
Mary wrote four earlier bestsellers about her work with autistic and learning-disabled children: Circle of Children, Lovey, City Kid, and Turn-About Children, which have recently been republished and still attract a wide readership. For more information about Mary and her books please see https://marymacracken.com
The St. Lawrence River was always Mary's favorite place to spend summers. Below are a few of her memories.
The River
I first went to the river, the St. Lawrence River, when I was two years old. I have only one memory of my first summer. My aunt had taken me down to the flat rocks on the shore in front of the cottage to swim, then took off my wetsuit, toweled me dry and led me up to get dressed. The cottage had just been painted, a rich dark brown. The afternoon sun shining on the wet paint made it look just like chocolate to me. I pulled away from my aunt, running as quickly as I could, and pressed my chubby little body up against the warm paint. Splat! I can still remember how good it felt.
Of course later I had to be scrubbed down with paint remover and then put in our round tin tub with sudsy water and scrubbed some more, and the cottage had to be repainted. I was told I'd been bad, and I knew this was true--but it still seemed worth it.
My mother and brother and I spent each summer there with my grandmother; my father coming up on weekends. I could have stayed forever. At the river I had my older brother Robbie to myself. He taught me how to fish, catch frogs, dive, spit watermelon seeds, feed red hots to the raccoons (poor things), and net minnows.
The summer I was fourteen a group of older boys was around. My two girlfriends and I had a wonderful time. One of them, Art, had the bluest eyes in the world, and sang to me while we danced. Then he invited me out for a paddle one evening in his canoe. I remember shivering with excitement waiting for him, chills running through me as I thought of what might happen. We paddled up the river, moonlight spilling across the water, and just drifted most of the way back down to our boathouse. Standing on the dock under the stars he gave me my first real kiss. It couldn't have been more romantic.
But shortly afterwards, as I lay in bed on the screen porch where I slept that summer, I began to feel awful. My stomach grew queasy; I broke out in a cold sweat. I rushed into the kitchen and threw up in the sink. "Oh no," I thought, "I'm allergic to kissing!"
Of course I wasn't. It was only the flu, and many years later I was able to enjoy many kisses and wonderful years with my beloved husband, Cal MacCracken.
-- Mary MacCracken
To be entered in the drawing for one of five free copies of "The Memory of All That," send an email to [email protected] (which her daughter, Susan, is maintaining).
(Photo Credit - Cal MacCracken)
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
This month's Penguin Classic is I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Joanne Greenberg. Start reading and enter for your chance to win a copy of your own.
Recent Comments