The Torch Is Made

Growing up, my sister and I shared two Sunday rituals. One, of course, was attending Mass at St. Paul’s. The other was our Sunday walk across town toward the Mecca of Fifth Avenue and all its beauty.

One of our first stops was Henri Bendel’s. Did we ever enter the amazing doors? No, we lingered outside savoring the beauty of the window displays. And the memory endured long after we had all left the beloved city we knew so well.

When I read on the internet that Bendel’s would close at the end of this year, I knew I had to have something tangible to secure that memory for those who would not remember. When I opened the website I immediately knew what to order.

Two pashminas and both in the special colors my Mother loved. A true blue, almost purple one was the color she chose to wear at my wedding.

The other, a raspberry silk, was similar to the cloth coat she wore on our walks ever so long ago. My Mother treasured her coat, but never rebuked her sister who borrowed it so often.

There are two descendants who often make me remember Mom. Neither look alike, and their circumstances in life are quite different. Yet they both share her unique sense of humor, innate strength and courage, and yes, degree of intelligence. Sometimes the humor was well, not subtle, and I can imagine the three of them laughing in a corner together while others just wondered.

Mom adored both her two oldest granddaughters. And I know they returned the love and admiration.

So I immediately realized the torch connecting us all back to the magic of imagination and possibility my sister and I learned on our walks belonged to both these women.

The blue, almost purple, silk pashmina, went to Diane, my daughter. It is exactly the same color Anna King Donlon wore to her oldest daughter’s wedding.

The raspberry length of silk evokes memories of a Mother walking with her two young daughters and sister across Columbus Circle to show them how beautiful the world could be. This one belongs to Deborah, my niece, who is so much like her Grandmother. I hope when she tells Violet stories about her Great Great Grandmother, she wears the pashmina.