Mum and me on Top of the Rock.
Forty-three years apart.
After my dad died in 2010, my sister was clearing out his house ā the house we grew up in ā and found a small suitcase in the loft.
The case was full of stuff that Mum, who died in 1999, had saved, but had never mentioned. Letters, cards, postcards, photos, programmes from shows, even things like dry cleaning receipts from when she lived in America in the early sixties.
Iām going to write about it all.
One of the things that makes me both happy and sad about Mumās suitcase is the things we have in common but obviously can no longer talk about.
I never made it to New York while Mum was alive. I actually first went there the year she died (1999) and I remember, while there, desperately wanting to phone her and tell her where weād been and what weād done.
This was one of Mumās photos ā taken from the top of the Rockefeller Centre (Mum calls it the RCA Building; itās the Comcast Building now, and the address is, of course, 30 Rock).
And hereās mine, taken from the same spot, but in 2007. (We hadnāt found the suitcase yet, so I wasnāt trying to recreate her photo.)
If you go to New York, you should definitely go to Top of the Rock. Because the one thing you canāt see from the Empire State Buildingā¦ is the Empire State Building.
In the opposite direction, hereās Mumās:
And mine:
And of course one of my very favourite photos, the one in the header, was taken in New York. I donāt have an equivalent for this one because Iāve never looked this cool in my life.
Paid subscriptions help support me and my writing. Paid subscribers receive a Saturday diary post, regular-to-occasional extracts from my various works-in-progress, and access to the full archive.
(If youād like to upgrade, but canāt pay right now, email me and I will add you, no questions asked.)
If you enjoy these posts but would rather not commit to a regular payment, you can tip me with the button below.
Thank you!
If youāre not interested in Mumās Suitcase posts, you can unsubscribe from them (and still receive the rest of my posts) by unticking the box here.
If you know anyone you think might like this newsletter, Iād love it if you would share it. Thank you!
This was quietly beautiful. Thereās something so moving about those parallel photos ā not as a recreation, but as an echo across time. The fact that you didnāt even know you were standing in your motherās footsteps makes it even more powerful. Thank you for sharing something so personal and tender. These glimpses into the suitcase feel like little love letters to memory, to grief, and to how we keep finding our way back to those weāve lost.
This one hit me right in the chest. Thereās something so quietly powerful about those side-by-side photosāhow they echo across time, full of things unsaid but deeply felt. Your mumās suitcase sounds like a secret time capsule of emotion, memory, and meaning... and the fact that you didnāt even know she saved it? Goosebumps. I love how youāre telling both your stories at onceāhers and yoursāthrough letters, buildings, light. Canāt wait to read more. Thank you for sharing something so personal and profound.