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Category Archives: Mara Purl
January 26, 2018 by Mara Purl
Since I write about a small, coastal town that draws tourists both with its picturesque beauty, and it's local arts and crafts, I always find it fascinating to find parallels in other locations. So Cozumel deserves a closer look. At least we scratched the surface of that beautiful island off the Yucatan, and we look forward to returning to those sparkling waters for further adventures.
June 23, 2017 by Mara Purl
In today’s post, I’m hosting author Roger Seiler on one of the stops along his Blog Tour. I’ve been the guest of some marvelous Blog Hosts during my own previous tours, and was delighted to be host to such an accomplished person as Roger Seiler. Enjoy!
Roger Seiler’s new book is the perfect read for anyone interested in history, particularly about the storied expanse of lands and archipelagos connecting the northernmost regions of Russia and Alaska that stretch like a taught sinew between and across time and cultures.
Eons earlier, we read, Native Peoples traversed these land-water bridges to travel southward, branching into groups that became the Tribes of North America.… Read more
June 14, 2017 by Mara Purl
My father let us see that love really is reciprocal. I helped him walk when he was ninety-nine, reassured him his journey made sense, made a difference, and had value greater than the gold of kings. When it came to the real paternity test, he passed with flying colors. Read more
May 29, 2017 by Mara Purl
I could have chosen to believe I had a mean-spirited mother who’d rather hurt than help her daughter. Yet, when I scratched the surface of the complex relationship with my mother, I never failed to discover her heart of gold. Her only motive in saying anything critical was to help me, improve my life, remove an obstacle, deliver me to my best opportunities. Read more
July 5, 2015 by Mara Purl
In my memories, honeysuckle twined itself densely through the framework along one wall of the wrap-around porch, sweetening the air. In the cool of the cellar, I reached high to grasp one of the scores of jars of applesauce my grandmother had made. My little legs pumped hard to make the rope swing go higher. I sat on my granddaddy’s lap and asked for the hundredth time to listen to his “tick-tock”—his gold pocket watch. The aroma of biscuits wafted out from the kitchen.
May 11, 2015 by Mara Purl
I came away with the impression that most of the greats and grands of the family were quite heroic in their way, surviving the Great Depression, serving in the Great War, and coming home to tend their farms and care for their families.
July 14, 2014 by Mara Purl
For her final birthday, we planned a unique performance. Mom designed a dress for me to wear, and had her wonderful seamstress make it. A dazzling green organza confection, it made me feel as if I was wearing jade sliced as thin as clouds—and then she gave me her jade jewels to go with it. I knew this would be the last dress she’d ever give me.
January 3, 2014 by Mara Purl
Handsel: a gift given at the beginning of something, especially a new year. Though it’s hard not to keep thinking to myself “this time last year, Mom was here,” what I try to do when these thoughts recur is shift from grief to celebration, from loss to gratitude, from past to present. This is a new year, a perfect opportunity for new beginnings. Perhaps I can let the universe help me move forward, instead of tackling the forward momentum all on my own. Read more
August 19, 2013 by Mara Purl
Projects have always been a way of life for the Purls. Sometimes a bane, sometimes a boon, projects define our time and express our various core purposes. That’s what I’ll miss the most, I think—that I won’t get to do the next project with Mom.
July 14, 2013 by Mara Purl
“A Year for Mom” are posts written the year of my mother’s illness and her passing. It had started as one of Mom’s bright ideas. Though she and Pere had been unable to fly to California to see my sister Linda perform the remarkable one-woman show The Year of Magical Thinking, she imagined that, somehow, the show could come to her. Read more