I remember opening up his big wooden wardrobe and burying my nose into his handkerchiefs. His clothes always had a pleasant, sweet, and mystical smell – not just
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I remember opening up his big wooden wardrobe and burying my nose into his handkerchiefs. His clothes always had a pleasant, sweet, and mystical smell – not just
From left: the author’s maternal grandmother, Hilda, with the author’s great-grandparents, Haim and Estrella Galante, on the front porch of their house in colonial Rhodesia, ca. mid-1940s. (Photo
She always called it her “old lady bag.” When my mother in law’s purse wore out, after 10 or 15 years of hard use, she asked for another