Objects tell stories. They tell us who we are, where we’re from, and how and why we exist in the world. There is great power in objects and I have experienced this power first-hand in the last day.

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, has just concluded. It is a recent custom in less traditional households to send New Year’s cards.  My dad and step-mom have sent Rosh Hashanah cards to their collective six kids for as long as I can remember.

I did not open the one they sent in 2001.…

On a recent bright Saturday afternoon, I made a vigil call to New York Methodist Hospital. The patient was an elderly woman whose heart was failing.

When I arrived, a friend of hers was waiting to enter her room. This friend knew the patient from church meetings and said “Dahlia” was famous for her hugs. Dahlia’s friend, who is a nurse, told me some lovely stories about Dahlia’s spiritual, financial, and gustatorial generosity. As she reminisced, two more visitors arrived: one of Dahlia’s daughters (also a nurse) and another friend.

Having learned…

I haven’t had to spend much time in nursing homes.  I have nothing against them personally. My reaction to them can be traced to my first visit to one when I went to see a schizophrenic great aunt in a home in rural Minnesota. Psychiatric hospital circa late 1970s middle of nowhere. Can you picture it?

Like virtually every other element of our lives, 35 years has brought great advances to how nursing home residents are care for. Everything from the décor in the hallways to the training of the staff…

Nearly a year ago, when I wrote the blog When You Meet a Stranger’s Husband, I noted that I was rarely with family when keeping vigil. During the week I met with Ferdinand, I was fairly convinced that we would not see each other again. I was naïve to think this way since we live in the small town of Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Because the first anniversary of Isabella’s death is this week (Jan. 15), I wanted to talk about my unplanned reunion with Ferdinand. It happed on August 15; seven…

There is a long-standing joke in my family. At the funeral of a guy, the [insert clergy member of choice here] approaches the casket to begin the eulogy. He hesitates. Pauses. Fidgets a little and finally says, “His brother was worse.”

I have a pet peeve regarding eulogies. It makes me absolutely livid when the person officiating defines the person by her illness, rather than by her accomplishments, or, even worse, when a person is remembered in negative terms.

This brand of eulogy was given for an aunt of mine who had…

On a frigid Halloween night, sipping hot chocolate and wondering why anyone actually cares about Kim Kardashian’s 72 days of marriage, I was surveying Facebook, and saw that my friend Ivy posted the eulogy read by Steve Jobs’ sister, author, and English professor Mona Simpson. In it, Ms. Simpson wrote of meeting him for the first time (he was adopted and searched her out), their relationship over the years, and the end of his journey.

I don’t know when exactly my tears started to flow. I don’t know if it was…

When Apple co-founder Steve Jobs died last week after a long battle with pancreatic cancer, there were many articles and blogs written about his contributions to the improvement of our civilization, the way he revolutionized how we communicate, listen to music, and consume technology. He was lauded for his understanding of the marketplace, creating shareholder value, and fabulous sense of design.

What I found most interesting, however, were his views of death, which he shared with Stanford graduates in 2005, after his original diagnosis. Now when he spoke to the students…

My experience on September 11 has been well documented in the media, whether in an interview that took place later that morning in which the reporter’s characterization of me went something like: “said Abby Spilka, in a highly emotional state one hour after the attacks” to the time I was interviewed by Channel 9 News with the screen identification “Eyewitness to Terror.” I have given testimony to the Columbia University 9/11 Narrative and Memory Project and written about it for Museum News. I have blogged about it for the Museum…

I have been a bit neglectful of my blogging responsibilities of late, something I don’t need to remind my VNSNY colleagues. July has been a month of transitions for me. I have a new role at work, which is both exciting and daunting. And while I am still learning to balance official responsibilities with unofficial responsibilities, and taking on new tasks while maintaining all of the old ones would seem to be what is proving to be most difficult, it is not. And this brings me to the other transition…