Books by Janice
- Written and illustrated by Janice Lynch Schuster, What Are Mothers For? is the first in a series about the people we love and live with. In Mothers, the brief story follows the milestones in our lives, from the first day of school to our first heartbreak, and from learning to cook to learning to let go. Twenty percent of proceeds are donated to Reading Partners Baltimore, whose mission helps struggling readers know and achieve the joy of reading.
- Janice displays her artwork on Handmade from Amazon. Work inspired by poetry, music, and experiences of beauty. Commissions taken for drawings and notecards, too. See her Etsy Shop
- Practical advice and down-to-earth comfort for people facing life’s end and their loved ones. Handbook for Mortals
- Poetry about aging, love, family and boxing. Saturday at the Gym
Tag Archives: memory
I was invited to write about grief for a popular website, so I have been thinking about it, and what I might write. So many have written and sung and drawn their experiences of grief and loss. What could I add to … Continue reading
Thanks to the editors at www.thcb.org for featuring my tribute to David Bowie and one of my favorite songs, Ground Control to Major Tom. I’ve contributed to THCB in the past, but always about health policy. I’m glad to have found … Continue reading
It is so hard to keep on loving this life, when you see how quickly it is gone. What choice do we have? My drawing tribute to David Bowie. You might even be able to color it.
I grew up in a racially polarized time and place. I thought my Dad was Atticus Finch and Clarence Darrow. His first murder trial involved defending a black man accused of first-degree murder in the shooting death of a white … Continue reading
I have evidence of a woman who loved me so completely, traces of her linger in cells that line my cheek and ear. All the years together we traveled, miles ribboning behind us as if we might outlast it all. … Continue reading
I no longer remember why I hated My mother, such strong words For pass-a-day disputes. She was a girl Herself, and I, hers. What she knew Of love and safety, to me, a long list Of should-nots built on her … Continue reading
We travel with ghosts. That reel-to-reel tape player You hid beneath tinsel and bows Was going to let you last forever. I could have your voice To carry, no matter what the years Stripped away. I interviewed you Saturday mornings, … Continue reading
We all end in this dusty rooms of vacant halls where we hung our hearts
You cannot touch years Though memory bears their weight I sip my coffee As ever on this day, I have flashes of memories–7 months pregnant about to board a flight at BWI. When the men screamed run, for fear … Continue reading
Knitting a prayer shawl I can feel my grandmother Helping me cast on