Monday, March 18, 2024
I knew Lesline as Mama Johnson or Mama J. From the time I first sat down at her dining room table in 2001, I knew I had met royalty. She was talented, brilliant, appropriately irritated and deeply in love with her sons, someone who said it like it was and had all the time in the world for those she loved. I remember that when my first book came out, she made giant tins of my favorite macaroni and cheese and we brought it to the bar to the book party to celebrate. It was devoured immediately and everyone wondered who the caterer was. I remember her love of JFK, her appreciation for travel and books, and her welcoming hospitality. She always had evaporated milk in the fridge in a little can for her tea, and yours, and she would invite you to stay awhile and shoot the shit. There was nothing to prove with her, as long as you had a good heart. She could sense it. I will feel grateful to her forever for the way she mothered me in my 20s, always provided a safe and loving landing pad, and raised one of my favorite humans. I hope my mothering embodies even an ounce of her fierceness. Thank you for everything Mama J. You are legendary in my heart always.
