"Shopping for the Homeless" by Arlene Mandell
Bonus episode
- passing on kindness
from grandmother to daughter to granddaughter, so it goes, a deep understanding of sharing what you can
Arlene Mandell is an artist in Linville, North Carolina. Her portraits are displayed year-round at the Carlton Gallery in Banner Elk. A native New Yorker, she lovingly taught in Manhattan’s Head Start program. Switching gears, she joined a travel magazine in Miami, Florida, where she met the adventurous Captain Dan. Their permanent relocation to the mountains inspired a love of writing. Her memoirs “Eye of the Dolphin,” “Artist Borne,” “Gobsmacked in the Gulfstream,” and “Renegade Daughter” appear on the “6-minute Stories” podcast, and/or in Second Spring and Gateways anthologies.
Author’s Talk
Author Arlene Mandell (right) with siblings and Grandpa Harry and Grandma Molly
(Photo by Al Levine, author’s uncle.)
This story was told to me by my mother. As she aged, her life became increasingly limited. Although she loved her sunny Florida apartment, filled with memories of my dad, she began to feel gloomy. I had to come up with new ideas to keep her mind alert and her spirit engaged.
I bought a small tape recorder and asked her to tell the stories of her life that stood out most. All she had to do was talk into the microphone, then I would type up her words and send printed copies to our scattered family. She perked up quickly—now she had a purpose and a mission. Once her stories were received by relatives, kudos poured in by way of long-distance, land-phone calls from Oklahoma, New York and New Jersey. Nieces, nephews and cousins said, not only were the stories wonderful, but how surprised they were to learn details about their grandparents that they had never heard before! Mother loved the celebrity status, which she had known earlier in life as a five-year-old piano prodigy.
As she approached her mid-nineties and needed 24/7 care, she startled me by asking if she had lived too long. I told her it could never be long enough for me. She said,” But I can’t cook something for you to bring home anymore.” I told her that just being with her made me happy; she knew I meant it. She’d then squeeze my hand and fall into a deep sleep from all the medications.
Little did I know that one of HER stories would become the basis for one of MY stories now going out into the wider world. This is one of my favorites.