What they're saying about our new book:
"The elderly have quite a bit of wisdom, and often you'll get it whether you want it or not. "Feeding Mrs. Moskowitz & The Caregiver" is a pair of two novellas focusing on the topic of the elderly and their interactions with the people around them. 'Feeding Mrs. Moskowitz' is the story of the titular elderly lady and her encounters with a girl rapidly approaching middle age. 'The Caregiver' tells the tale of a caregiver and her job at an assisted living facility. "Feeding Mrs. Moskowitz & The Caregiver" is an enticing read that shouldn't be missed."
-- Midwest Review of Books
"The novellas are authentic, filled with believable characters and situations that resonate with our own life experiences. The stories are funny and poignant at the same time, teaching those who have not thought much about the aging process in the best way possible by fascinating and amazing us."
-- Anne M. Wyatt-Brown
"As someone who was the caregiver for two aging parents, both of whom lived into their nineties, I found Feeding Mrs. Moskowitz and The Caregiver: Two Stories by Barbara Pokras and Fran Yariv a delightful experience. It is a candid and humorous look at aging. .....It is well work reading whether one is a caregiver or not. This is a slice of life worth visiting."
-- Alan Caruba, Bookviews
"Caring for aging parents is one of the most common experiences sisters share, but few can transform their responsibility into bittersweet words of wisdom the way the Pokras sisters, Fran and Barbara, have done. This book, with its tender, funny, and revealing insights into the world of the elderly, is a must-read for every caretaker." -- Carol Saline, author of The New York Times bestseller, "Sisters"
"The novellas are beautiful little parables that are just not meant for caregivers or for the children of the elderly, bur for everyone -- as most of us will, eventually, take similar journeys to those taken by the residents of Sunset Hills, in one form or another." -- John McDonald, New York Journal of Books, award-winning novelist, screenwriter, playwright and graphic novel adaptor of the works of William Shakespeare.
No such thing as a free lunch, the saying goes. But where my mother was concerned, that didn't apply to charity solicitations. In her later years, when she was living in various retirement homes and then in an apartment with her caregiver, she looked forward to going through her mail with me. This was the ritual. I'd bring the mail to her room and we'd sit down. I should mention that her mail consisted of bills, catalogs and solicitations. I'd pick up an envelope and read the return address. "AT&T." "Pay it," she'd say, and I'd start a pile for bills, which I paid with her checks (that's another story I will relate another time). I'd hold up a catalog. "Toss it," was her usual response, so into the wastebasket it went. You get the idea. But then I would inevitably pick up an envelope from The Humane Society. "Is there a gift with purchase?" she'd ask. I'd take her letter opener and slit open the envelope and hand the letter over. She'd shake her head in disapproval if the gift turned out to be address labels with pictures of appealing looking dogs. "Throw it away," she'd say. However, if the "free gift" turned out to be a little blanket, or better yet, an umbrella adorned with an image of an animal, that was it. "How much?" she'd ask. I'd read her the suggested donation amounts, and after careful consideration, she would choose the lowest donation that would entitle her to the gift. Whenever we went out, the Queen would be in her wheelchair, her makeup on, her outfit carefully chosen, especially her ever-present hat, and always, a Humane Society or PETA blanket over her knees. The thing I never really figured out was why she loved those little blankets and umbrellas. You see, she was the first to admit she was not an animal lover, although we'd grown-up with dogs. It must have been she couldn't refuse a "free gift." Now that I think of it, she only bought cosmetics in department stores when there was a "free gift with purchase." Well, why not?
Best, Fran
Some of our favorites to share:
- Barbara's favorite movies: "Precious" "Inglorius Bastards" "The Orange Thief" (never released theatrically), anything by Frederick Wiseman, and "Stop Making Sense" (I worked on this!)
- Fran likes "ALL ABOUT EVE" with Bette Davis
- Another of Fran's favorites -- FIELDWORK by Mischa Berlinski
No such thing as a free lunch, the saying goes. But where my mother was concerned, that didn't apply to charity solicitations. In her later years, when she was living in various retirement homes and then in an apartment with her caregiver, she looked forward to going through her mail with me. This was the ritual. I'd bring the mail to her room and we'd sit down. I should mention that her mail consisted of bills, catalogs and solicitations. I'd pick up an envelope and read the return address. "AT&T." "Pay it," she'd say, and I'd start a pile for bills, which I paid with her checks (that's another story I will relate another time). I'd hold up a catalog. "Toss it," was her usual response, so into the wastebasket it went. You get the idea. But then I would inevitably pick up an envelope from The Humane Society. "Is there a gift with purchase?" she'd ask. I'd take her letter opener and slit open the envelope and hand the letter over. She'd shake her head in disapproval if the gift turned out to be address labels with pictures of appealing looking dogs. "Throw it away," she'd say. However, if the "free gift" turned out to be a little blanket, or better yet, an umbrella adorned with an image of an animal, that was it. "How much?" she'd ask. I'd read her the suggested donation amounts, and after careful consideration, she would choose the lowest donation that would entitle her to the gift. Whenever we went out, the Queen would be in her wheelchair, her makeup on, her outfit carefully chosen, especially her ever-present hat, and always, a Humane Society or PETA blanket over her knees. The thing I never really figured out was why she loved those little blankets and umbrellas. You see, she was the first to admit she was not an animal lover, although we'd grown-up with dogs. It must have been she couldn't refuse a "free gift." Now that I think of it, she only bought cosmetics in department stores when there was a "free gift with purchase." Well, why not?
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