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Photos of her parents’ collections—eye glasses, “old Schick shavers,” “staplers from my childhood,” drawer after drawer filled with pencils, pens and rubber bands—suggest the poignant pack-ratting that was their lifestyle.Even more moving are the daily letters she finds: “ a day.” Along with ones her mother wrote him back, this is “the best find,” and she adds them to a take-home pile.
When the book opens, Roz is married and has a three-year-old child; her parents, George and Elizabeth, are 78. (And the mystery is solved of why so many of her cartoon living-room sofas and chairs are dotted with doilies: the apartment her parents lived in was the one Chast grew up in, unchanged since they’d moved there in 1959.) Although the cartoon panels themselves, are, of course, wonderfully expressive, so is Chast’s writing: “This was Brooklyn, the Brooklyn of people who have been left behind by everything and everyone.
If my parents were alive today, my dad would turn an astonishing 103 at the end of May, and my mom would be closing in on 92 (July).
I am sure they’d have needed help from their three kids long before now.
Now I am locked by my best friend who intends to make all of my fantasies come true.
Join in as Nadia lends me to her friends, family & co-workers, so they can help her tease and torment me.
In hospice care, her father suffers from bedsores and morphine-induced hallucinations.