In memoriam

A friend of mine passed away today unexpectedly of a heart attack. I knew Karen Schlessinger when she was Karen Miele, the hard-nosed, good natured, former seminary student turned single mom next door. When I was a young kid, I would go to her house through the path in the woods to play with her two boys, Cabot and Brad. These boys were my fishing buddies, my co-horts in mischief and the cowboys to my indian. We'd ride the shetland ponies they had in the pasture at breakneck speed, bareback down the driveway, then go into the old house and watch her make apple pie or chocolate chip cookie dough in these beautiful mustard colored pottery bowls, killing time while we waited anxiously for hay season. Mrs. Miele terrified me with her stern demeanor, sharp Irish nose and shrill belly laugh but my fear was respectful. I admired her ability to raise two boys alone, comment knowledgeably about American Folk Art, cook great food, and most importantly share with me stories about my "handsome, briliant father"-- a man long since gone and a real mystery to me. She was my mom's age when she died-- a youthful 61. Later in my life and before I started Laborfair, I worked with Karen as an adult for six years in New Jersey. As a grown woman, I saw her differently-- a dutiful and loyal companion to her best friend, Gretchen, and a woman, after years of working hard, ready to explore her retirement with her husband, Les. She never got that chance. She always encouraged me to go out and pursue my dreams--always told me what great ideas I had. Six months ago, Karen wrote to congratulate me for starting Laborfair. She wrote, "woman need your help. we're tired. this is a great idea and I see how it helps so many women." Thank you Karen. I'll miss you.