Mary Beth Writes

1. This morning I was texting with Franc about our heritages. He was born and raised in the Midwest although his ancestors are from Puerto Rico. Being the child of children of a Caribbean Island means he probably has Taino DNA as well as African and European. Heck, he probably has Phoenician and Viking and Pacific Islander because island people and sailors have always thought each other cute.

This is the thing that occurred to me. We know that around 9/10’s of ALL native ‘New World’ people perished in the first 150 year after European contact. They died from relentless epidemics, from the brutal conditions of enslavement, from wars.

Which means it’s amazing that any person with mostly new world DNA is here at all. So many humans died, yet somehow his foremothers and forefathers survived and kept going. His existence is a heritage of endurance, tenacity, perseverance, and luck.

He also explained this phenomenon, which is weirdly functional/dysfunctional. His parents frequently told their kids all the ways in which they were ugly, lazy, and unclever. Psychological abuse was a thing in his family. He and his siblings (some more than others) had to grow up in the face of the ever-present disapproval of his mom and dad.

Franc just learned recently that this is not an uncommon in parents descended from enslaved people.


If you were enslaved as well as the parent of a gorgeous and beloved kid, the LAST thing you could afford was for that kid to feel bright and empowered. Smart and articulate kids were the first ones chosen to be exploited and sold. Parents did their best to keep the lights off in their kids’ eyes. Don’t tell them how much they are loved. Don’t tell them they are marvelous. Kids with self-esteem have a rockier road than kids who appear dull. Enslaved parents learned how to raise kids to plod along with their heads down.

This was a dynamic in Franc’s family and is true in many families who still carry the severe cautions learned in enslavement.

2. My family: When Sweden no longer worked for my ancestors because of both famine and religious oppression, my people immigrated to Michigan. I have often felt that moving from my hometown to Chicago to Racine to here was part of the banquet of DNA solutions passed along to me.  

When one is everyday unhappy - numb those feelings with cinnamon buns. When one is truly perplexed about how to go forward - move.

What have you done in your life that maybe didn’t make immediately sense to your family and friends, but if you stand at a distance and look backwards … Yup, some great-great-great-Gran handed that solution on to you?

3. This week was our last week of daily reading, drawing, and playing dollhouse with our granddaughter. We have a lot of feelings about this.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday we were having a birthday party in the dollhouse for the Golden-Haired Princess and the Magical Baby Princess. The Bad Guys came to the party until they burped too loud and the Baby Princess knocked them over and they cried all their way back to their barn. Boy, was our kid laughing, which makes us laugh really hard, also.

Anyways, she said fairies had to come to the party. We do not have designated fairies, so we would have to invent them. Len picked up some tiny dolls we’ve had 20 years. They have tiny calico dresses and felt shawls. 

“Grandpa! Fairies don’t wear sweaters!”

I hope you have a pretty good holiday weekend. Stay safe. Wear your mask. If you end up in crowded places, do like Bill Clinton and don’t inhale.


My DNA profile is Spanish, Taino Indian, and northern African, and some European... The Spanish were notorious for keeping and dealing in the slave trade for their sugarcane plantations... As I had just texted M.B. earlier, I was saying that dating Mr. P. an Anglo (Bless his battered heart) from a small Town outside of New York has had it's culture clashes because some of the things that I say affectionately and with love get misinterpreted in a way that I have to sit down and explain the background of (NOT always easy to do)... When I've mentioned this to my sister, cousins or the woman who explained this phenomena to me who is half Puerto Rican, and was raised in a large mixed generational family of 15, they have all basically said the same thing "Don't bring him to any family gatherings because he'll be eaten alive if he's that thin skinned... We certainly can look a fright and like we are messed up to someone looking at us from another culture (Some of us are just in case anyone is wondering)... But it's mostly just loving banter to us and mostly non abusive (Mostly but not always, as I can personally attest to)... There is a thin line...
Mary Beth's picture

Those thin lines...

My Swedish ancestors arrived in NYC via Ellis Island and then drifted up to New England...Massachusetts to be exact. Three sets of my great grandparents all lived less than a couple of miles of each other and the fourth set lived not much further away, just over a hill and into another neighborhood. I know all about the Cinnamon buns (with Cardamom). Comfort food at its finest. Along with a cup of Coffee, they are guaranteed to temporarily erase cares and worries.

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Len’s Birthday


Last week I mentioned that Monday of this week would be Len’s birthday. A friend remarked to me ever so kindly later that day, “I thought his birthday was the 30th?”

It is. Len’s birthday is the 30th. This same friend has commented to me, over the years, about how much I remember.

Covid Diary #1350 Thanksgiving


Today is 1350 days since the that March Friday in 2020 when we all went into quarantine.

Today is 60 years since JFK was assassinated on November 22, 1963. I remember that day, so does Len, so do many of you. Here’s a scary truth. We are as far today from that day – as that day was from the Wright brother’s first flight at Kitty Hawk on Dec 17, 1903.

Quarantine Diary #1349 Sci-Fi & Prophecy


We both took Covid tests this morning and both of us still have pink lines. I asked the internet what this means and it says I might be pregnant.

I have a call into my doctor’s office to discuss. I feel so much better that if I didn’t know I have Covid, I wouldn’t know it. I’ve been sicker than this after too much pie.

Covid Diary #1347


A few of you might realize yesterday we were 1345 days since March 13, 2020, and today we’re at 1347. Yup, I used a different calculator. Just a fun reminder that precision depends as much on asking the right question as doing perfect math.

I’m in day #4 of having Covid. No more chills. I have a fever of 100.4 which is more impressive than the 100.2 that Len achieved on his Day #4.  I’m taking various OTC meds and I keep track of them in my phone’s notes because, wow, it’s so easy to have no memory of the last time one took something. I’m good. Enough.

Covid Diary #1345


I thought I was done with the Covid Diary but guess what? Len and I caught Covid this week! Actually, Covid caught us. We have continued to wear masks in stores, library, meetings, and our church so we will never know for sure where Len encountered Covid. And since I got it four days later, I guess we know where I got it…

My New Substack for Short Stories


Let’s call this “Old Dog Versus New Tricks.” Does it feel to you as if I’ve been extra quiet these past months? It does to me. One big reason is that I’ve been figuring out Substack.

Here’s the deal: In addition to this blog, I’ve been writing more creative fiction. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and I’m finally taking it seriously. I’m not giving up this website, but substack is going to let me concentrate on short stories and other stand-alone pieces.

What’s Substack?

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