She was 59 when she died. We discussed on her final birthday how we’d create a blowout for her 60th, possibly in Ireland, if she was up for it physically. Every year, I gave thanks she made it another 365 days. I celebrated with custom mix tapes and CDs of songs that evoked memories, inspiration, […]Read More ON US.
The raspberry-colored IKEA photo box that resides in my office closet beckoned this morning. I somewhat reluctantly answered the call; thumbing through photographs from the past 80+ years at times requires a certain mindset and mood. Something told me, however, I’d find what I’ve been seeking for the past few weeks. Marge. Pattie. Kath. Mike. […]Read More ON HISTORY.
I was a skinny, goofy ballet dancer raised Catholic in Buffalo, NY. Even though I attended mass regularly, my churches were New World Record and Record Theatre. Playing vinyl in my mother’s studio apartment at Summer Street and Elmwood Avenue was a religious experience, and one of my most creatively formative from childhood. Whether it […]Read More ON VINYL.
Music’s my kryptonite. Performers, audiophiles, composers, and band geeks hold serious power in my universe. A solid mix tape’s been known to blow back my red cape and steam up my glassy heart. My ideal evening with a fellow nerd includes copious amounts of album listening (loudly) and analysis of lyrics, melody, mood, and memories. […]Read More ON MIX TAPES.
The week had been a perfect storm for both Noelle and me. As we’re prone to do when at our collective wits’ end, we gathered at the dinner table with Q; filled our plates with yummy comfort food; put on The Beatles, Deee-Lite, and Dire Straits for singing; and laughed as only three hamalama hambones […]Read More ON THE THERAPEUTIC NATURE OF TEE SHIRTS.
It’s daunting to return to a project after a prolonged hiatus. Over the years, my homecomings to eatingatme have been cloaked in a self-inflicted pressure to create content that elicits a reaction from readers similar to the first time they heard Darth Vader cry, “Luke, I am your father.” I can tell you with certainty […]Read More ON BEING YOUR OWN BEST LOVER…OR ANYTHING ELSE.
The universe enjoys posting prompts at the oddest times and in the quirkiest places to elicit reflection. This morning’s no exception; my inbox and Instagram feed slapped me silly with thought. I’m the consummate late bloomer. My mother took pleasure in reminding me of this (I assume because she knew it’d serve me well, ultimately). […]Read More On Balance.
Hey hey, y’all! How’s your day of rest progressing? I’m doing laundry; I’m that person. Every Sunday, on Facebook (search “Rebecca Emily Michael Gaffney” to be friends with the gal with the world’s longest name) and Instagram, I present a topic and explore what’s eating at you, me, and the global collective around that idea. […]Read More On What’s Eating At You.
My bowl of cherries hasn’t been empty this year, just sour. I took bites anyway; nourishment’s nourishment and I’ll be damned if 2020 starves me of all hope. There’s something about having already battled depression, when the outside world was seemingly sunny, that has made the challenge of battling a depressed outside world doable. 2019 […]Read More On Taking A Bite.
Conspicuous truth has curious timing. (Hi, y’all. It’s good to be back.) While reviewing the first draft of Wanderlings The Zine : Issue Two :: JOYRIDE with the editorial team (of which I’m a member), I quietly pulled focus for a moment. On pages 62 – 63, we ask the reader: Who are you becoming […]Read More On Being.