Writing
This year, I lost both my grandmothers. They were formidable women with vintage names and steadiness like currency. They couldn’t have been more different from each other. Lucienne was a lesbian from the Gaspé who spent the Fifties in Paris, the Sixties in...
Writing
This year, I lost both my grandmothers, and like most times when you lose something, the thing lost becomes the most important thing to you. I have been thinking a lot about grandmotherness. Grandmothers are almost exclusively a human anomaly. Only elephants, pilot...
