30 May 2020Loretta Reilly Carola, and the house you all grew up in, are inseparable in my mind. I think of her here—sitting at the far end of the wood dining table surrounded by stacks of mail, journals and paperwork—while Lisa and I set the table and toss a salad (the dressing, by the way, is what I have continued to make all these years. My boys think of it as “Mom’s salad dressing” but little do they know it’s the Mann-family secret recipe.) That gorgeous table—a tree section that had been lovingly sanded, oiled to a dark perfection and then given new life by the collection of years of family meals, conversation and laughter—was actually quite impractical when you think about it. A “practical” table would have been a plain rectangle surrounded by untipable chairs. But this table was anything but that. It was rich with history and memory and the center stage for your family connection.
As a young girl I was a bit shy and intimidated by “Mrs Mann”. She was fiercly independent, intelligent, educated, confident and cultured. My first generation, Irish immigrant family life consisted of roasted chicken, potatoes with a side of butter, and the expectation that a high school education would be all that I could expect to attain in life. In contrast, my days in the Mann household brought me in touch with classical music, opera on Sunday, mustard-dill sauce on chicken, books, piano, art, and the NYTimes! Over the years, I became a common fixture around the house. I grew to love and respect Carola for the extraordinary woman she was and without her knowing it, she became a deeply influencial mentor in my life. She was the one who showed me what is possible when you put your mind to something. To face obstacles and take them on as challenges and opportunities to thrive. It’s the practical thing to do : ) She has always been my inspiration.
Carola’s gentle nature, her ever-present elegance, her fearlessness, her fierce independence, her patience and generosity, her love of nature and family, her hard work, and her sense of responsibility to family, friends and community, will always have a profound impact on my life and I’m eternally grateful. I jokingly called her “Mom” way back when, and in many ways, she was just that. Rest in peace, Carola.
Much love and gratitude,
Loretta
