writingOne of the funny quirks of trying to memorialize mom’s life is that I have a plethora of cover letters she wrote, because those are one of the few types of documents she carefully saved on her computer. So while I long to find stories of her youth or of the time she spent raising my sister and me in Florida, I am instead stuck with dozens of pleas she wrote when trying to find a job in her sixties.

Here’s one she wrote when applying for a job at the VA, in which she included a sort of disjointed tale of my grandfather, Vincent Albanese: