sixty: a letter for Aunt Jemima

March 1st was dubbed National Pancake Day (at least by the folks at IHOP).

The House of Pancakes served free short-stacks of buttermilk pancakes to its patrons in exchange for a suggested donation to the Children’s Miracle Network. Supporting a good cause certainly softens the blow of caloric intake, don’t you think? In honor of this “holiday” I wrote to the tried and true Aunt Jemima. I hope you squeezed some flap-jacks into your day friends.

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March 1, 2011

Dear Aunt Jemima,

I have such fond memories of you and that big toothy grin. You were a staple at my family’s kitchen table most Saturdays (always after sleepovers) and sometimes on Sundays too. I think I might have been the only kid who used my syrup sparingly (too much sugar in the morning made me feel crummy—see, I really wasn’t normal). And unlike other kids, I never felt pancakes were just a vehicle for your gooey, sugary goodness. A short stack had its own merits as far as I was concerned. But I could never deny what a great team you two made—breakfast harmony!

Here’s proof of my loyalty Aunt J, twenty plus years later: If you’re not on the table, I forgo syrup all together. Maple? No way! Flavored blueberry? Not a chance. You are the tried and true, the original, and the only one for me. I try not to think about the fact that I can’t pronounce most of your ingredients (or have any idea what they are for that matter). I’m living by the “everything in moderation” rule and hoping it all shakes out okay. So here’s to you, and Saturday mornings!

All the best,

Lauren

fifty-nine: a letter to my childhood dentist(s)

I’m on the hunt for a new dentist. They say 75 % of people feel some degree of dental anxiety, but not me. I got a good start with a wonderful childhood dentist. I was a patient of the senior Dr. McCorkle and then the junior, Dr. Mike.

Teeth cleanings were an excuse to dig in the ‘Treasure Cove’, a little nook devoted to those curios all mothers loathed (I was a sucker for the Trolls myself). But the best part was the Treasure Cove Drawing; every month they’d pull a name out of the mini chest and the lucky winner would receive a life-sized stuffed animal. Friends, at age five and three quarters my life began. My name was drawn and I was sent home with a sheep dog that was almost as tall as me. I don’t think I stopped smiling for a solid week. And, I haven’t won anything since-HA!

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February 28, 2011

Dr. McCorkle (Senior + Junior),

I’m on the hunt for a new dentist in New York and it got me to thinking about the wonderful memories I have of your office and semi-annual teeth cleanings.

I remember the awesome Highlight’s Magazines in your waiting room. I loved the hidden picture puzzles and the jokes. Sometimes, I secretly hoped you guys were running late so I could keep reading. And that Treasure Cove (pure brilliance)! Winning a giant sheep dog pretty much made my year! If that wasn’t enough, there was bubblegum fluoride and a new toothbrush every visit. No matter how hard I tried, I never could find the toothbrushes with the sparkles anywhere else—and believe me, I tried.

I’m proud to say I’m still taking excellent care of my teeth—never a cavity in my twenty-seven and a half years. I won’t fib and say I floss daily, but pretty close to it. That woodcut sign about loosing your teeth in Ava’s room put the fear of God in me. I miss your whole staff (special hello to the Gator fans in reception) and just wanted you guys to know how much I (and my gums) appreciate my good start in dental care. Hope all is well on Delaney Avenue!

Best,

Lauren

Sugar Paper

fifty-eight: a letter for a special lady

I received my first “I Want A Letter” request from a nice chap named Mikel. He suggested I write his lady friend a letter, so I did. They have this funny little inside joke about the phrase “Mikel Loves You Though” –which made this request all the more fun for me. Thanks for reading Mikel. I hope Amanda likes her letter!

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February 27, 2011

Amanda,

I’m told you have a cat named Catfish—awesome and you can mix a mean cocktail. Total envy! I have to measure all my ingredients (like an amateur) to avoid shaking up something unsuitable for consumption. Thanksgiving dinner is child’s play, but a classic gimlet stumps me every time.

I know we’ve never been properly introduced, but you sound like a girl I’d like to know. And you must be quite nice, because you sure have a swell boyfriend—he thought you might like a proper letter. Best of luck finishing school in the “City of Colleges”—a little trivia I learned about Conway, Arkansas. How did a girl from South Korea end up in Arkansas?!

Mikel Loves You Though.

I’m sending you some good-grade karma by way of New York. And maybe you could think happy mixing thoughts for me?

Fondly,

Lauren

Crane Stationery

fifty-seven: Lauren accepts with pleasure

Today I received my friend Erin’s wedding invitation. Nothing delights me more than hand calligraphy and lined envelopes. I wish more occasions called for such pomp. Formal wedding invitations didn’t always include idiot-proof response cards. Many moons ago it was proper to accept with pleasure or decline with regret on your own “official” stationery. And always in a timely fashion, per Ms. Emily Post.

As such, I’m popping my reply in the mail straightaway. I included a Homer quote for the couple on the back of the card.

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February 26, 2011

Erin + Ben,

“There is nothing nobler or more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.” HOMER

I look forward to celebrating your love on the seventh of May!

Much Love,

Lauren xxo

William Arthur wedding suite (And it’s letterpressed! Be still my beating heart!)

fifty-six: sincere thanks for a stranger

My Dad is a wonderful man with a tiny flaw—he loses things. Reading glasses, cell phones, receipts. I don’t know where it all goes. Lately, and despite my best efforts, I’ve been ‘misplacing’ a few things of my own. Are tendencies hereditary? Yesterday it was almost my cell phone. A kind stranger came dashing after me and in the bustle I forgot to ask her name (and mailing address) for a proper letter of thanks. This letter is very a la Missed Connections—here’s hoping she knows how much I appreciated her gesture.

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February 25, 2011

To The Woman Who Rescued My Phone,

I cannot thank you enough! I know it’s a dramatic declaration, but my life is in that phone. I would be totally lost without it. I always believe in the kindness of strangers and you are a glowing example. I hope your little act of courtesy inspired those in line behind you. Thank you again! If I had smartly gotten your name you’d know my gratitude…

Best,

Lauren

P.S. I really liked your hat and didn’t have a chance to pay you a proper compliment because I was so frazzled. Sorry about that—it was really lovely.

fifty-five: praise for Flex Mussels

I had an epiphany a few weeks ago. I ate a donut and I liked it.

I’ve never really appreciated donuts and I think its because I always attempted enjoyment at breakfast. Or I’ve never had a really good one. In either case, after a few of the gooey-filled variety at Flex Mussels*, I’m a convert. It should be noted that these donuts are not the stale, crumby variety from your local Dunkin’. They’re served warm, with a vanilla dipping sauce that’s liquid heaven. It’s the perfect end to a scrumptious dinner.

I went to Flex for the mussels, and boy were they good. But last night I returned, this time for the donuts. And I had the same awesome server.

*I’m usually reluctant to make recommendations, but I can say with confidence if you like mussels you will love Flex. Save room for the donuts!

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February 24, 2011

Tuck,

Just a quick note of thanks for another wonderful dining experience—your wine recommendation was spot on, the mussels were hot and delicious, and the donuts… I just don’t have words for the donuts.

I hope my insistence of introductions didn’t freak you out. At least we didn’t wink at you for the liquor filled donuts, right?! Thanks again for a delightful dinner.

Best,

Lauren

old school kate spade

fifty-four: a thank you for my accountant

My accountant Leslie prepared the last three tax returns I’ve sent to the IRS. Before Leslie it was me—all thumbs, calculator, curses and erasers on hand. I appreciate this man for good reason.

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February 23, 2011

Leslie,

It was a pleasure seeing you yesterday—but then again it usually is. You’re the closet thing to winning the lottery for me. And while my return is smaller this year than in years past, it’s still money in the bank! Three cheers! Thank you for making tax preparation so easy. Best of luck plowing through the remainder of the ‘season.’ See you next year!

Best,

Lauren

Jack and Lulu, circa 2006

fifty-three: condolences for New Zealand

Martin Hunter/Getty Images via The New York Times

 

Today an earthquake struck the South Island of New Zealand. My heart goes out to the people of Christchurch, especially the victims of this deadly natural disaster. It’s times like these when I wish I could send a warm embrace via the post.

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February 22, 2011

Words cannot describe the horror of your reality. My thoughts and prayers are with your families as you face this horrible tragedy and the aftermath. Sincere condolences for those who have lost loved ones—my heart breaks for you. May the missing be found and may the rebuilding of Christchurch be swift. Your country has faced great adversity, but I am confident with the support of hundreds of thousands around the world, you will prevail.

Fondly,

Lauren

Make a Donation

fifty-two: birthday love for Mike

Mike was my freshman roommate’s boyfriend–we solidified our friendship during an unplanned fire drill. Over the years we became good friends—he served me my first solo cup of ‘bucket sauce’ and checked my Spanish homework in exchange for shoulder rubs. Some of my best college memories include this guy. He is one of a kind, in so many ways.

Mike and Derek share an apartment in Boston and nothing pleases me more (or makes me laugh harder) than a visit with these two. I am so glad the memories have continued, long after graduation.

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February 21, 2011

Cole,

I know this birthday card pales in comparison to last year’s chocolate calf jabber, but I did think the whole kitten bit was very apropos for a guy like you, ahem. And you do make me very happy, all the way from Boston or even India for that matter (and especially when we go to restaurants with big stuffed bears…)

I hope you have a wonderful birthday with all the trimmings and none of the unpleasant morning-after side effects. We should celebrate properly next time you’re in town. Preferably with gin, sundaes and slow jams. And that next time should be soon, and last for more than a few hours. I have a bedbug free dwelling that will welcome you anytime you know.

Love,

Lo

Ghostacademy

fifty one: a letter for a woman I’ve never met

My maternal Grandmother died on February 19th over thirty years ago and before I was born. I have seen pictures of her, heard wonderful stories and even read from an old children’s book that belonged to her. But more than anything, I wish I had a chance to know her.

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February 20, 2011

Grandma,

I wonder if I would have called you that, or if you would have preferred Nana or something unconventional and flashy, like Gigi.

I have a picture of you on my dresser, from the 1940’s I believe. You’re visiting Grandpa at the army barracks and you have this lovely little flower tucked behind your ear. You look so youthful and happy. When I picture you in my mind you’re usually wearing that amazing feathered gown you wore to Mom and Dad’s wedding. I know you were so sick then, but the photos don’t show it–at least to me. You were a portrait of style and elegance.

Mom told me we could have shared shoes. I’m 5’11”, just two inches taller than you (and quite tall for a lady)! I have Mom’s nose, which I think she got from you. And her smile (a Grandpa trait) only the space between my teeth was closed with the help of braces. Mom and I have a lot of the same mannerisms. I’m guessing she got a lot of those from you.

If you were alive I’d ask you what Mom was like as a kid—no as a teenager. Did she always do her homework? Did she ‘neck’ boys in your basement? I’d want to know everything—your version of the stories of course. I’d want to hear your stories too. I bet you have lots of good ones.

Everyone tells me how lovely you were, always full of class and grace. I heard you were an excellent piano player too. Every time I hear the song “You Are My Sunshine’ I think of you. I really love the stories about you and your sisters–they are always full of laughter and joy. And I know you were a great mother because you raised a wonderful woman who’s been the best mom a girl could ask for. I am so grateful for that. She’s my best friend and my biggest supporter. I know it’s hard for her, not having you around. But I like to think you’ve been watching over us all this time.

I hope to know you, someday, somehow. In the meantime I will keep your memory close to my heart.

With love,

Your Granddaughter