I’ve been meaning to tell you, Mary, what happened before you came to visit us. It was during the time when we were just coming to know our new house. All its echoes and odors. Its secret atmosphere.
Mary – well, why am I calling you Mary now, after all this time, when I’ve never called you that in the quiet, intangible place where we talk. There I call you Pinkele, the emphasis on the first syllable, the Yiddish diminutive le. For little. Little Pink. Pinkele. Long ago, when I’d gotten that first email from you, the address was pinkele@, a cybername chosen by you then to reflect your fledgling company, Pink Elephants. Everyone – clients, colleagues, collaborators, friends – read it as Pink Elly. But to me, it was the Yiddish diminutive, and you became forever Pinkele. Continue reading A Ghost Story.