I am throughly enjoying your “autobiography of your appetites”, and went to search more of your works, and as a bonus, found your blog, too! Soon after buying your book, as much as I was cursing an awful cold that prevented me from going to work, I was a grateful for a chance to READ. Yours did just that! Thank you! (I don’t have patience for the kind that many good friends rave about “it gets good after you get through the first 50 pages…”) To me, a good book grabs you from the first sentence on. I picked up your “Blue Plate Special” in desperate search of a new book escape. I seem to be drawn to books that have ties to food.
And I hope there will be some kind of healing redemption among my own siblings, and mother, as it seems you have found. Thank you so much for your book–I’m planning to blog about it and recommend it to all of my writer, and non writer friends.
I am happy you have found your true soul mate–and on a New Hampshire farm, no less (the subject of a memoir I am now working on)–and now I can’t wait to read your fiction.
And, well, we have similar “foodways” in our lives (having both been born in 1962), various related family scenarios and estrangements and ultimately, the midlife realization that we can’t escape our past and that it only forms the women we’ve become (I love that first paragraph in your epilogue). I observed the local New Hampshire “anthropops” through various dabblings with Waldorf preschools and working off and on between grad school and college years for a fabulous baker in Peterborough, NH who had gone to Emerson College in England. I just devoured, literally, your BLUE PLATE SPECIAL in three readings (when I should have been canning tomatoes and cleaning house and working on my next book project) and find a kindred spirit of sorts in your words and life. I know you two have a lot to catch up on. My last memory of Fred there was probably early 1982 when he was lamenting this impending move upstate to re-locate the library.Īnyway, back to you, Kate, I will report that you have now unleashed a species of “Apocalypso Anthroposophico” on what I deem the “Steiner Internet.” I’m also good Internet pals with Daniel Perez, who was a year or two behind you at GMWS.Īnyway, it’s wonderful meeting both you and May here. During the 1981-82 school year, I taught the physics & chemistry main lessons at Garden City WS, and whenever I could, I would make a beeline into Manhattan to visit Fred at 211 Madison where we had quite raucous conversations about everything in the upstairs room.
I met you once in 1980, May, when I was living at 3-fold for 6 months enrolled in Siegfried & Ruth Finser’s Foundation year for Anthroposophy. (He knew what a sidling Cancer crab I was.) On the other hand, I know that Fred, my favorite Sagittarian, could care less as long as I arrived to pick up the conversation we had left off. Secondly, to May, I wish to express my hopelessly belated condolences to you on the passing of your wonderful husband Fred, on All Saints Day 2012. May, I realize that you will not be taking any credit for Kate’s literary achievements, but as a retired HS teacher myself, I know you are very proud and satisfied that one of your students at GMWS found your class to e worth it and then turned out so well in the world. I was about to give up when I happened to look at the comments here and saw this entry by May. Ladies! Please excuse my ostensibly rude interruption of this exchange, but as you read on, you will know why I simply had to barge in here, and it won’t seem rude (I hope!)įirst, to Kate: I came to your blog here looking for a way to communicate my gratitude at the courage of your memoir.
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