Thursday 13: More Things About Minerva Jane

1. I have a younger sister named Gabrielle who looks so much like me that sometimes people think we’re twins. Except she’s taller and her hair isn’t as curly. Still, we had our round with sibling rivalry. I was just over 2 years old when she was born. Whenever my mom nursed her I'd climb up onto the sofa next to them and somehow elbow Gabi in the chest. Now, though, she’s my best friend and lives on an organic farm in Napa Valley.

2. My mother’s name is Rose. She’s of Sicilian descent and named after her grandmother. When this grandmother died The Family found out that her name wasn’t Rosa after all, but Rocca. She’d hated the name and hid it from everyone—even her children--for years. Now my mother says she’s grateful no one knew about the true name. Why? If she’d had been named Rocca she’s convinced everyone would have called her Rocky.

3. My father’s name is Charles but everyone calls him Snuffy. Snuffy was his father’s nickname in World War II--after the Snuffy Smith comic strip. Dad was born five months after his father was shipped out to Italy to work as a translator for the Army bases stationed there. Grandma sent a wire that said: Snuffy, Jr. arrived! The other guys in his troop thought it was hilarious. And I guess I should consider myself lucky about the whole Roccca thing--I could have been Rocky and Snuffy's daughter.

4. My grandfather spoke three languages: English, French and Italian. He also made his own wine; painted elaborate watercolors; wrote a book about our family's history in the upper northwest; wrote short stories; played the piano; grew an elaborate Monet-worthy garden; and worked full time as a small town doctor. Together, my grandparents went on a series of trips in their 70s--biking across France, Italy, Egypt and Australia.

5. Now he’s got advanced Parkinsons’, bladder and prostate cancer and lives in a nursing home in Northeastern PA. My grandmother visits him everyday. She wears the same perfume every time she visits on the off-chance that the odor will trigger a memory and he’ll remember her. Still, 99 out of 100 days he’s catatonic. Except one day when I visited and I said, "Grandpa, do you remember when I was in high school and we used to speak French together when you visited?" He opened his eyes slowy and said, "Mais oui." And then went back to sleep.

6. I drink at least three cups of coffee every day. One of the things I adore about my friend M. is that he has espresso machine in his apartment. We have lattes all morning.

7. I’ve written a novel. In between bouts of trying to find an agent, I continue to tinker with short stories. I’ve got another novel on the chopping block but am too nervous to begin it—the first one was such a gut-wrenching emotional experience.

8. I wrote my first piece—a poem about a dream—when I was 6.

9. I still think it’s a pretty good poem even for a 6-year old. If you ask me directly about it, though, I’ll laugh and tell you it was just a silly little poem.

10. I have this memory book I kept from when I was in kindergarten to high school. There’s a space for each grade where you were supposed to fill in your height and weight; your hobbies; your favorite subject in school; your best friends and what you wanted to be when you grew up.

11. In third grade I decided I wanted to be an “Arthur.” Which was a big change from a “balla girl.”

12. I’m still a really bad speller.

13. I’m also really clumsy. Which is why the whole “balla” thing wouldn’t have worked out anyway.

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