Hug Me Forever

The November 13, 2006 issue of TIME magazine featured innovative inventions for the year. Next to a picture of a young woman dressed in long sleeved poly cotton T-shirt of red, white and tan stripes the caption read:

AMAZING EMBRACE
“Remember when PDA stood for something other than personal digital assistant?
It can again with the Hugshirt, a high-tech garment that stimulates the experience of being embraced by a loved one. When a friend sends you a virtual hug, your cell phone notifies the shirt wirelessly, via Bluetooth. The shirt then re-creates that person’s distinctive cuddle, replicating his or her warmth, pressure, duration and even heartbeat.
www.cutecircuit.com”

My mind whirled as my heart clutched in my chest. What if the technology was such that once you received a hug from a loved one through the Hugshirt, the memory of that hug, that person’s distinctive cuddle, warmth, pressure and heartbeat, as the caption described, could be stored forever?

I took a hug memory tour through all the cuddles I long for from my life and are no longer available to me in physical form.

My mother’s soft mushy snuggle when putting me to bed at night as a child. The faint scent of Jean Naté and baby powder lingering in the air with ruby red lipstick and random loose graying hairs that came away on my cheek or collar.

Dad’s clasp of rough skinned hands and Aqua Velvet aftershave, coupled with gruff pats on the head.

The hug of my older sister Mary Grace that as a young child was more of a push and grab and as we aged, letting go of our sibling rivalry became a squeeze of respect from the kind of friendship that comes with having shared life together since the very start.

And then there’s my loves, John and Jack. How so many nights just one more enfoldment in their arms would soothe a yearning that is part of my everyday breathing.

John’s clinch was encompassing, the musk of his hair, the tickle of his beard on my cheek. How long that hug would last. I never tired of feeling him close, always reaching out to grab him from behind, knowing on some subconscious level I needed to store up embraces for the rest of my life.

Jack’s was short and tight. A bite on the earlobe, with a gurgle of a laugh and then those words, “Lay kuppla, Shana,” as he patted his shoulder for me to rest my head upon, breathing in the aroma of the chocolate bar he had earlier or to lick the drip of ice cream on his shirt that he missed with the napkin.

If the Hugshirt were available for storing hugs, I’d have a closet full. I’d pick a different hug for everyday and every mood. And I’d start storing up hugs from people in my life now.

My friend Meg’s bear hug that comes from her small frame is all encompassing. In her snug embrace, time stops for a moment and you know that her attention isn’t on the next thing happening but fully on exchanging care and respect to you in that moment.

Catalina, another of my friends I don’t get to see as often. Her squeeze is light hearted. Her smile beams as she transfers a quick fix of joy from her over flowing heart to mine.

My east coast nieces and nephew with their quick clutches that only reach to my waist. The excited anticipation of seeing their aunt after a long period a part, is a quirky mix of “I don’t know you well but I’m happy you are here and I’m not sure what to expect.”

I’d give a Hugshirt to all those in my life. I’d record a hug to each of them with an intention of deep respect and love for all they have given me. And I’d hope that in their moments of sadness and joy when a hug is the perfect illustration of what’s needed to take away a tear or celebrate a victory that my Hugshirt would be one of the first they would reach for.

Mi Sorellina

My younger sister ML just tunred 40! As part of her surprise party given by her amazing husband, Tim, guests were asked to bring memories and pictures of my sister. So here is mine:


The twisted gum wrapper rolled over and over between thumb and index finger, tucked in the linty corner of a raincoat pocket. How odd that a disintegrating silver lined piece of paper long past its purpose could symbolize the transition of a young 20 something girl into a woman with an intention to support and comfort.

Big sister’s in the rulebook of life take on the care of younger siblings. They change diapers, chauffeur to friend’s houses and offer new experiences.

I relished my role and thought that is how it would always be. I, the big sister, would slip an extra couple of bucks in her palm to buy that coveted pair of jeans, offer advice on the tender issues of life or throw tea parties to celebrate a birthday.




On a day in a long ago month of March in the corridor of New York hospital with the nervous inevitability of the unfolding events, my little sister, mi sorellina became my caregiver. As my husband John lying dying, Martina fingered that gum wrapper. She told me it was quite awhile before she could bring herself to throw it away.

I knew in the core of me that John would not allow himself to leave until he knew I was taken care of. When Martina and my mother came to visit him for the last time in the hospital, an unspoken request was made from a brother in law to a little sister.

True to her commitment, mi sorellina became my housemate, travel companion, and book club buddy. She ate chips and refried beans with me in my tiny kitchen in Roselle Park; her continued support in my grief shown through the soul in her eyes and grasp of her hand across the table.

And when I decided to move to the other side of the country, she never discouragede and was the first of my family to visit Jack and I in San Diego

There is an embroidery sampler that my sisters and I often joke about. It reads

SISTERS ARE FOREVER FRIENDS AND I AM SO GLAD

YOU ARE MINE.

In a bit of our mother tongue, from one Italian girl to another (the best I can!),

Sorellas sei amico ora e per sempre e sono felice un mio amico.

Big sister cherishes little sister, Little sister cares for big sister. Chronology of birth, rulebook of life no matter, I have a friend in you.

Buon compleanno, sorellina. Ti amo.
Happy Birthday, little sister. I love you!