Writer's Digest Conference 2018--things that I learned

So.

What a weekend I had!

I went to the Writer's Digest Conference.
I was surrounded by writers.
I was surrounded by people who create.
I saw someone having a spirited conversation with herself. She saw me staring at her and she said, "I'm having a disagreement with my main character." and walked off.
I totally understand this.

I learned that other writers are not my competition. Nor am I theirs.
I don't read just one writer in any genre. Why should I assume my readers will? There is room for all of us on the bookshelf. (and if there isn't--we just build more shelves.)

I learned that if you are a female writer, you are not given as many chances to succeed as a male writer. Not nice--but it seems to be true. Women are more likely to be told to stop writing where men are told to write something else. (It was a fantastic discussion after one of the breakout sessions.)


I learned that there are many different opinions about writing a character who is not your race and culture. All of the opinions are valid. For myself, I know I could never write a story like The Hate You Give or Children of Blood and Bone. I couldn't.

That being said, no one else could write the story I'm writing with Shawn, a young black man as one of the ensemble characters, because I know Shawn. I hear his voice in my head clearly and I can't change his race or one thing about him. I will be getting (more) sensitivity reads, but he is who he is.

If we limit ourselves to what we know, we don't grow. Not as authors, not as readers. That being said there is a fine line between admiration and appropriation. Staying on one side of the line is safer. But don't bust through the line like a winning runner breaking through the tape. That isn't winning. The best line about this came in one session--"You can do it--just don't fuck it up."


I learned that for every "rule" you can name a book that successfully breaks the same rule. Which means that I can do--as long as I do it incredibly well.

I learned that stillness is power. On the page between characters  and sitting with agents pitching them. Four out of six want to at least look at my work. Two of them want complete manuscripts. I attribute this to good pitches, and a good story. I also managed to quell my tendency to babble and be still after my pitches--that's when they said--I want to see more.

I also learned I have a lot to do. A lot of writing and growing--but I'm running towards the path--not trudging my way to it. And That has more to do with the people I met there!

Thanks Writers Digest for an amazing conference!

To all who have come here from my twitter link--welcome! So glad to see you! Let's write the next chapter, shall we?

Children do not belong in cages

When I was little I watched this miniseries called Masada.
If you can find it it is good to watch.
It starred Peter O'Toole and Peter Strauss.

There is a line in it where Peter O' Toole, as Flavius Silva screams "This is not Rome!"

This is not America.

This is not who we are.
This is not who we should be.

Children do not belong in cages.

Children do not belong in concentration camps.

This is not who we are.
Or, I should say, this is not who we should be.

People are saying this is right. If you see a child in a cage and your question is about their immigration status, you have a moral problem.

If you are not calling your representatives and telling them that this is disgusting--then do so now.

I always wondered why I would have done during World War 2. I mean I'm jewish, I would have died. But would I have died fighting?  I don't know.

But I have a daughter who does not look like me. I keep her COC (Certificate of Citizenship) on me at all times when we leave the house. D. keeps her passport card in his wallet. I am scared that someone will say she's not a citizen. I am scared that they might revoke her citizenship.  I am scared.

But this is my daughter. This is my country. I will use my voice.

Will you raise yours?

Oh, and Flint, Michigan still doesn't have clean water.
There is a large percentage of Puerto Rico without power.

Reaching out my hand

My friends list and twitter feed have exploded about the Roseanne reboot.

I watched it. I enjoyed it. I will likely watch again.

A lot of my friends are furious as to what happened to the star. They are furious that she voted for Trump. They are furious that Roseanne Conner is a Trump supporter.

They will not-EVER watch this show.

I will.

I don't believe all Trump Supporters are Nazis. Though I believe all American Nazis are Trump supporters. I am curious how a character who, in the '90s brought an extra kid into her family because  she witnessed a horrible scene between the kid and his mother, could vote to take away the protections of these kids. It doesn't sound so impossible because the man is the President. Enough people voted for him. Not all of them were evil and horrible.

I have a friend--really an acquaintance who I grew up with who supported, and supports the current president. I don't understand her. I really don't. But I won't unfriend her, I won't turn away from her. When my mother was dying, she came.  A lot of my friends, some of whom I am very close to did not. Two of the people who I would have called close friends didn't even call, email, or write. But this person who supported the current president--she sat and read to my mom. My mom's hands shook too much to hold a book and this woman came and read to her. I will not say all Trump supporters are evil because this woman is not.

I know some people who will be angry at me for giving that much. I understand. I acknowledge my privilege. I am Jewish, and we are being persecuted. There has been more anti-semitic incidents since 45 came into the White House. But others are being persecuted worse, and I need to be an ally. Part of being an ally is to learn why people voted for him. If it is simple racism and fear of others then that is one thing. If it is something else... well then I have to find this out.

Why? Because at some point hopefully sooner rather than later this jerk will be out of office. At the very latest in January 2025, we will have a new president.

What happens then?

Do we keep on hating each other? Distrusting each other? Did you know that we now view our political opponents as enemies? Seriously this has got to stop! Somehow we have to view each other as fellow humans and fellow countrymen.

If you voted for the current occupant of the White House, yes, I distrust you, but you are not my enemy. You are a human being. You are a fellow American and I believe there is some common ground between us.

There has to be.

So, I'm going to keep watching Roseanne. Not because I like her, but because I need to understand her. Because if I can understand how one person changes, I can understand how others change. Then I can reach out my hand and say we disagree but we can find common ground.

Maybe I'm amazed

I was about the same age as my daughter is now.

My brother turned on the tv because a Beatles movie was on. It was called Yellow Submarine.
It was a cartoon with the most incredible music I had ever heard. I sat on my older brother's lap transfixed by the music.

After it was over he started playing his Beatles records for me. A part of my life clicked into place. I became a Beatles fan. I wrote to the Beatles inviting them over to my house. My brother, ten years older than me, saw that the letters got mailed.  Who knew, he said. Both  John Lennon and Paul McCartney had children around my age. Maybe they'd visit a weird little kid. I actually got a response from somewhere saying how they had no plans to tour but I was on a mailing list if that would change. I found it when I was cleaning out stuff after my mom passed. The year was 1977.  All four Beatles were still alive.

I remember the morning of December 9, 1980. I was up very early and was listening to my father listen to the radio. I heard that John Lennon had been murdered. I ran into my parents room. We listened to the rest together. He had been killed by a fan who shot him in front of his house. I remembered that he had a son who was about a year younger than me. My mom had tears in her eyes thinking about how Yoko Ono had to tell her young son that his father was never coming home. I went into my brother's room, woke him up, and told him about John Lennon. It was the first time, and one of the only times, I had ever seen my brother cry.

As I grew older music came in and out of my life. But my love for the Beatles only grew. Ask me on any given day what my five favorite songs are and one of them will be Nowhere Man. Often another would be Eleanor Rigby.

I read things about the Beatles. About the rocky friendship between John Lennon and Paul McCartney that created and disbanded one of the best accumulations of talent in the world.

While dealing with the heart of infertility I thought about Yoko Ono often. She had a very public battle with secondary infertility. She and John Lennon suffered three miscarriages before Sean Lennon was born. I once read on an IF blog that Yoko Ono deserved her infertility  because it was her punishment for breaking up the Beatles. I left a blistering comment and never went back. No one "deserves" infertility. Besides, Yoko did not break up the Beatles. That suggests that John Lennon had no autonomy, and that was simply not true.

I'm going into all my history with the Beatles to talk about Paul McCartney. He was always my favorite. The best concert I ever went to was Paul McCartney at Citi Field. Not only for how amazing it was. But, out of the concert, all of the New Yorkers were on the subway platform singing Beatles songs.

On Saturday, Paul McCartney marched in New York's March For Our Lives rally. When asked why, he pointed to his T-shirt which said in bold letters, WE CAN END GUN VIOLENCE.  He said that his best friend had been a victim of gun violence not far from where they were and he wanted to do something. It took people a very short time to connect that he meant John.

You don't think of Paul McCartney as a victim of gun violence. But where people mourned the life of John Lennon, Paul mourned the man. While there were a lot of teenagers who didn't know who Paul was, the adults around them quickly informed them. Some wondered why he didn't lend his name to the big concert. At this I can only surmise that he wanted it to be from the teens and he wanted to pass the torch.

But he couldn't stay in his very posh residence so he went out like millions of us did to march and to protest. To be there to support the cause, and his friend. And I respect him even more. And I offer him my very belated condolences on the loss of his best friend.

I Believe The Children Are The Future

According to Facebook today is the day that my publishing job was "eliminated."

That was four years ago.

Since then I have done contract work. I have done freelance work. I have become a tutor. I have spent valuable time with my beautiful daughter.

While I no longer have any anger towards my former boss, I do have a bit towards the changes at the company that eliminated my job. I'm working on it.

Without it though I wouldn't be hopeful for the future. You see, I tutor.

I have a bunch of students ranging in age from 9 through 17. There's not one I dislike. They are all very different. Except this past week.

They all wanted to talk about the shooting in Florida.

The 9 year old had been shielded from the news, until that morning when her teacher talked about it with the class.

"Why would you allow someone who wants to shoot people to buy a gun?" she asked.
"Protection."
"You can protect yourself with a revolver." She said--using one of her vocabulary words. "You don't need an assault rifle."

One of the 16 year olds said, "I'm scared. I mean I'm seriously scared. I'm supposed to take the SATs in a month. What if someone comes in with a gun there? I mean seriously what if someone comes in to the SATs with an assault rifle? Fuck the NRA, I shouldn't have to worry about this when I'm studying all night for the SATs!" If she expected me to scold her use of the "F" word, she was wrong.

Three of the kids are, at their respective schools, organizing the walkouts and marches on Washington. (March for Our Lives, National School Walkout, and there's another one on April 20)  They are asking me if the colleges I've heard about will have issues with them walking out. I checked with my alma mater and they said absolutely not--as long as they will be peaceful.

We've been talking about the constitution. We've been talking about the amendments--all of them.

I'm so stinking proud of these kids. I'm so honored that they talk to me and ask me questions. They like it when I don't pull my punches. One of them said, "You know, I thought when you grew up and became an adult you had all the answers." I shrugged and said that wasn't the way it is.  My student grinned widely, "It's kind of nice to know that you guys can really screw stuff up too. I mean I figured it out since Trump was elected, but still--damn you know!" I couldn't have said it better myself

Were going through a dark time right now politically. Our leaders have lost their souls. Our leaders like the money they get from the NRA more than they like children's lives. Our leaders respect the right of people to own things that can kill them, rather than our right to exist.  I think that these kids will be voting differently in November.

I watch these kids and I have hope.

I'm hoping this time it is different

Another school shooting.

I've talked about my feelings here and that was nearly three years ago.

I'm heartbroken for the parents. I'm heartbroken for the kids.

But I have to say that this time I have hope.

The students of the school have decided that they are tired of waiting. They are organizing walkouts. They--the ones who will be old enough will be voting this November on an anti-gun platform. I'm quite proud of them. I'm hopeful that maybe this will change.

Oprah 2020

So, this was Oprah's speech at the Golden Globes yesterday.

I've heard a bunch of people saying that this might have been a speech to launch her presidential campaign for 2020.

I would vote for her.

Unfortunately that doesn't quite pack the punch it should. I mean if it turns out that the current occupant of the White House doesn't get impeached or resigns or something I would vote for Oprah's cat or dog before I would vote for him.

I am concerned that it will take generations to restore the country to what it was.

But I will be kind.
I will listen.
I will be the change I want to see in my country.

I hope.

That being said, when Oprah Winfrey can deliver a speech that makes me cheer. I would definitely like to see her more politically involved.

Microblog Monday - It's getting to me.

At the end of West Side Story a woman kneels at the side of her dead lover who has been shot. Two rival gangs stand and approach each other with violence on their minds.

"Stay back!" The woman says. She goes to the boy with the gun and takes it from him.

"How do I use this? By pulling this little trigger? You all killed him... not with guns but with hate. Now I can kill too because I have hate."

I'm finding myself hating.
Hating the occupant of the White House.
Hating the people who thought it would be a good idea to get him elected.
Hating the haters.

I'm finding myself in rages.
Rages at the political climate.
I have to stop shouting and yet I can't keep myself from shouting.

I want to de-personalize people. I want to say if they think THAT, then they aren't deserving of the moniker human being.

I want to.

And then I can't. I can't let my body fill up with hate. I can't let myself give into the fear.

How do you not give into the hate? How do you avoid cocooning in your home because you don't think you can handle somebody discriminating against you? How do you avoid it?

It's getting to me.

Parenting by Peopling - Microblog Monday

I asked my father a question this weekend. I asked him about the times I saw him send checks back--even when they were in his favor.

I asked him if he did it because it was right or because he knew I was watching. He looked at me as if trying to see if I was kidding or not and then he sighed. "Both." He said. "I did the right thing because it was right and because I knew you were watching. You're our third kid and by the time we got to you we knew that if we do something, good or bad, you'd see it and think about it. I wanted to try to be the person I wanted you to be."

I remember little things about my mom. I remembered a Valentine's day when I was in 9th grade. I had done my duty and given my valentines out and I didn't receive a one. Not one. I remember slamming in the house. I remember not telling my mom anything about the day. I remember slamming into my bedroom to be alone  because that's all I would be. I sat sulking and probably crying on my bed. My mom knocked twice and then came into my room--it had been the devil to get her to knock at all! She told me she had to make brownies for something or other and asked if I wanted to help. I did the typical teenage shrug but I remembered eventually going down and making brownies with her. I didn't tell her about my day. She asked and I was monosyllabic. But it is hard to sulk when you're sharing just-baked brownies and milk.

Mom was gone when I thought about this and realized that she probably didn't need to bake brownies that day. I never thanked her for the gift of simple companionship.

Today Belle had no school and I had been scrambling to find out what to do with her. We went grocery shopping. We bought more halloween candy than we should have. But Belle read me things off the list--words like Banana and Milk. Other words she found when I made the sounds for it. We tasted yummy things and had a good time. I get what my father said now. I want to be the kind of person I want my daughter to turn into.

The new movie IT has monsters--and they don't all wear clown makeup

I first saw IT as a miniseries. Tim Curry scared the shit out of me as Pennywise. I fell for the losers both as adults and pre-teens.

I then read the book and fell for them all over again. IT is one of my top five Stephen King novels and I love the characters. So when my husband got two days off for Rosh Hashanah and my daughter only got one day off I knew that we were going to go see the movie IT.

I am very familiar with the book.
I reread IT every so often and I just finished listening to it on audio. I highly recommend this version. Steven Weber does such a wonderful job it feels like I am listening to someone telling stories by a campfire.


And then I saw the movie today

S

P

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S

For those who have never seen IT and don't mind spoilers. Here's a decent synopsis of the book.

I was going to oppose most if not all screenplay choices that were different than the book, I knew that going in. But I didn't expect to find myself disgusted with the tokenism and sexism displayed in the movie. They stripped down the characters of both the sole person of color and the female member of the losers club and made both of them practically unrecognizable.

Mike Hanlon.

The only black member of the Losers Club in the book and in the 1990 miniseries is intelligent and the person who is dedicated to the history of Derry.

In this movie he was the muscle who had the gun. In this movie he was homeschooled--heaven forbid he go to school with the rest of the kids. In this movie his parents were killed in a fire for no reason I could understand.

Why would someone change a nuanced black character into a non- nuanced one?  Why make him less? It sure as hell wasn't because Chosen Jacobs didn't have the acting chops. The actor did wonderfully with what he had, but wasn't given anything to shine with. All the history geeking went to the character of Ben, a white character.

Worst of all, in this EW article, they want to change Mike Hanlon's adult character to a drug addict.  To quote one of the comments to the article, "heavens forfend that he gets through each day with his own grit and forcefulness."  I hope they don't change Mike like this. If, when the next movie comes out, that does seem to be the case, I will not be in the audience.

Beverly Marsh

The movie takes away Bev's choices. Again, the only female member of the Losers Club and it rips the choices she made in the book away from her.

In the book, Bev was the markswoman. She threw the rocks better than anyone. She used a slingshot and she hit what she aimed at.  When the Losers follow IT into the sewers she is there because she chose to be there.

In this movie she is taken from her home after nearly being raped by her father. She spends the last act of the movie catatonically floating. She is the damsel in distress, not a member of the team and that's not what Mr. King wrote.


Monsters are a staple of movies. But with the sexism and tokenism--I have to wish that they had just stuck to Pennywise.

I can't forget this day-Microblog Monday

Billy Joel may have said it best.

"And it's hard to believe after all these years, it still gives you pain and it still brings tears."

I can't forget how beautiful the day was.

I can't forget the frantic calls. "Did you go into the city today?" "Pick up the phone, damn it, "

I can't forget my friend who was in lower Manhattan. She and her husband (then he was her fiancé) live with this day as a day of dust and blood and a miracle of finding each other.

I can't forget my mentor's partner. She kissed her partner goodbye to get on a plane. That plane would be flown into Tower one.

I can't forget how the country came together.
I can't forget how the people who didn't vote for George W. Bush and the people who did all came behind him to hope that he would do good.


And now we hate each other.
We do.
We hate each other with the same virulence that the people who rammed the planes into the towers hated us.

How they must laugh.
They got what they wanted.

They laugh at you.

Whenever you look at someone and think of that person as someone other. Be it LGBTQ, black, asian, hispanic, Trump voter, libertarian, conservative, liberal democrat republican.  If you look at a fellow American and think how they are not like you and not to be trusted you are making the terrorists laugh.  They rub their hands together in glee because we gave them exactly what they wanted.

We divided America.
They didn't.

You think "oh that's other people, I love and respect always." Really? Maybe so. Maybe you're that much better than I am.
I have problems thinking of some as fellow humans.

And I'm trying to stop.

Let this be the day that we reach our hands across the chasm. Maybe we'll shake hands like Sirus Black and Severus Snape, but we can shake each other's hand because we are all Americans. We can be better. We've got to try.

Here is my hand. Outstretched. How can I help you?

To honor Doctor Martin Luther King--I still have a dream

A few days ago was the anniversary of the I Have A Dream speech.

I've been doing research about Dr. King. I think that the thing that strikes me so much is his optimism. I have a dream--when things were not changing fast enough for anyone.

I am often despondent about what is happening in my country. This country that elected a good man for president. A good, kind, imperfect man who served our country loyally for eight years is now being followed by the worst president in our nation's history.

And still I don't want to despair.

I went online and I listened to the speech,

And I... I still have a dream.

I have a dream that the people that we elect to our congress and senate will somehow open their hearts and learn that they must represent those who elected them, instead of a party.

I have a dream that the police of this nation will stop being so deathly afraid of people who are black that they reach for deadly force as the last thing, instead of the first thing.

I have a dream today

I have a dream that the people who voted for Trump and the people who voted for Hillary and the people who didn't vote at all will join hands and work so that this country can fulfill its promise.

I have a dream that if (all the Gods forbid) a woman is raped, the only reason someone will ask what she is wearing is to return a lost piece of jewelry.

I have a dream that everyone will be free to hold hands and hug, and kiss, and marry whoever it is that they love without anyone raising an eyebrow or a fist.

I have a dream that it becomes equally dificult for someone to get a gun license as it is to get a license to drive a car.

I have a dream that health care in this great country is seen as a right that needs to be afforded to all and not a privileged afforded to the wealthy few. This includes mental health care and dental care.

And as ever, as Martin said, I have a dream that my daughter will one day live in a nation where she will not be judged by the color of her skin but by the content of her character.

I share his dream. I still believe his dream. I add my own dream to his.

What do you dream?

Charlottesville and the racists we know--Microblog Mondays

Like everyone else I'm horrified by what went on in Charlottesville this weekend.

Note, I'm not saying I'm shocked. Racism is as endemic to this country as corn--and just as prolific. I'm reading my friends lists and everyone is shocked--shocked that this is what America looks like now. They're blaming Trump.

Now look, I'm for blaming Trump for anything but people aren't getting this. Trump is now in the Oval Office because of people like this. He didn't create it--he took advantage of it. People are surprised that Trump didn't denounce them harder. It always bewilders me when people are jolted by the fact that a racist was elected to the presidency. Did people really think that when Trump walked into the White House he'd suddenly become a decent human being? Did people think that he would suddenly be an adult? This is a man who has to get two scoops of ice cream while everyone else gets one. He's not going to change.

But other people can. The people you interact with every day--they have changed since you met them. Maybe they've changed for better or for worse but likely they are not the same people you met at the beginning.

Take my in-laws for example. They are majorly homophobic. They think that gays and lesbians are against God and the bible. Don't even get them started on transexuals which they just don't understand--and they admit that. Their church has splintered because of the gay and lesbian issue and my in-laws proudly attend the "non-welcoming" one.

This has understandably led to friction. But I wasn't going to cut off contact with my in-laws. I certainly wasn't going to stop associating with my LBGTQ friends to make my inlaws more comfortable. I kept throwing people together. All of a sudden my mother in law would ask me. "That friend of yours--is she gay?" I said "Yes." and went on with whatever. I kept telling them funny stories about my friends. All of them. Little by little the phobia went away. Little by little they realized that gay marriage didn't hurt their marriage. Little by little they realized they were wrong.

I see a lot of people on my Facebook feed saying "if you think such and such is right, then just de-friend me."  Unlike the hate--I see this on both sides. I'm not de-friending anyone. I will engage when I feel it is called for. I will discuss.

I don't feel that I am helping my friends who are being hurt most by the current situation by closing off my friends who have different views. We won't learn from each other that way. We have to start listening to others before the screaming starts.

I close with my favorite quote from The American President.  It is still so true.

You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then, you can stand up and sing about the "land of the free."

Microblog Monday - Allowing the asshole to come out.

So, a few days ago my Facebook feeds were covered with John Barrowman in a TARDIS dress.

This is not a bad sight to see, as I am a fan of John Barrowman and seeing him is a good thing.

He also said somethings that were taken as anti-trans and that is not a good thing.

To be honest, I don't know the whole story.

To be honest, I don't care.

I think that we need to take a breath and realize that the worst meaning of the sentence that someone typed in a fit of twitterpation is not exactly the worst thing that it could possibly mean. Not everyone hates everyone.

We have a president who fires off tweet storms so he can feel important. Many of these tweets should be ignored.

Why don't we just try to ignore some of the stuff that annoy us?

Hear me out. People are getting crazy about the little things and ignoring the big things.

John Barroman wore a dress to be in solidarity of a television show that is about a fiction character who will soon be played by a female actor.

This is worth analyzing every bit of every word he is saying?

If he said something that is offensive, yes, it is bothersome.
But it isn't the end of the world. If you know him personally--tell him that it bothered you. If you don't--move on with your life. Also, allow him the space to be an asshole--everyone is an asshole sometimes. Maybe this was just his turn.

We're really getting too distracted by the little shit and facing the big one.

Microblog Monday - We have something in common. We can build on this.

Hey Trump Voters.

I'm not going to ask you how you feel about your choice.
If you're happy and you think he's doing wonderful things and you like the idea of the United States being a part of Russia--nothing I say is going to change your mind. Nothing you say is going to change my mind and the best we can do is wish each other a great day and start talking about the Mets. (I'm really liking their chances this year--just saying.)

But maybe there is someone out there who voted for Trump who is maybe not feeling too happy about their choices. Maybe we can talk.

In the words of David Addison of Moonlighting.

Hey--let's talk about books. Me? I read left to right--how about you?
And when I'm in temple I read right to left--you?

We have something in common. We can build on this.

Let's talk about eating. I like to eat.
I have food allergies. Do you know someone who has food allergies?

We have something in common. We can build on this.

Let's get deep and talk about sex.
Who would have guessed it! I like sex too!
I think everyone should have plenty of sex with whoever it is that they love.
You?

We have something in common. We can build on this.

I'm not talking about people on the far right and far left-- they are forgetting that there are more people in the middle. I am in the middle. I want to talk to others in the middle.

If we don't--that is when America will die.  It won't be because of the current President. It won't even be because of the current Congress  America will die because we forgot that the people on the right side of the aisle cries tears when they are hurt--the same way those on the left side of the aisle do.

I live in New Jersey. I love my child with every breath in my body.
I believe that the woman in Kansas loves her child with every breath in her body

I am a Jew and my religion fills something in my soul.
I believe that Muslims and Christians find something in their religions that fill something in their souls.

I am a woman and I am deeply in love with a man.
I believe that love is so deep that it transcends gender.

We have something in common. We can build on this. Let's start to try.

Broadway music saved my life--now it is saving my sanity.

Broadway music saved my life.

More than once.

When I was in sixth grade I had a horrible teacher. Think Snape--except without the forgiving back story. I was depressed. I was suicidal.

My parents were fairly oblivious. I didn't think I could tell them anything.  But they knew I was unhappy. They sent me to my aunt and uncle for a week. Where my aunt and uncle saved my life.

They took me to a show. A national tour of Man of La Mancha. While I had seen several musicals--growing up in a suburb of New York City-- this was the first one I climbed in and lived in. After that, no conversation was had without me bringing up Man of La Mancha. Which was my favorite song today? Then I would play it over and over --rewinding the cassette a myriad of times (because of course I had it on cassette since MP3s were decades away). I memorized the entire book of the musical. I read Don Quixote (a fairly bad translation) when I was 12 years old. I read biographies of Don Miguel de Cervantes.  I took comfort from the fact that even when everyone laughed at Don Quixote and beat him and turned away from him--he still followed the Impossible Dream.  It made me believe that I could go on and do it to.

I got through the rest of the school year. I think part of it was that I told my aunt some of the stuff my teacher said and things got better at home. Things got better.

I'm in a dark place lately. I want to just hold on to my daughter because she makes me laugh. She hugs me and makes me comfortable in a world that has grown increasingly uncomfortable. I then thought of what I used to do when I was uncomfortable and I thought of Man of La Mancha. Got the CD and listened to it. '

And today, today, it is helping me go on. Helping me say that I can follow the quest. No matter how hopeless, no matter how far.

Below is Brian Stokes Mitchell in what I would say is the best version of this.
I will strive with my last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable stars.

Microblog Monday - Bracing myself

So today the Electoral College will more than likely make Donald Trump the official President Elect.

Unlike a lot of people on my friends list, I have not been trying to fight this.

There are several reasons.

1) If the exact situation had been reversed and Trump had won the popular vote and Hillary had won the electoral college, I would say, those are the laws of the land. I would denounce and decry any meddling in the electoral college. It seems wrong.

2) It isn't like Hillary did not know about the electoral college and they took the election out of nowhere.

3) The name that constantly comes up is somehow electing John Kaisich--and the fact that he wasn't on the ballot just doesn't sit right with me.


So, I'm bracing myself.
Bracing myself to be fighting a lot.
Bracing myself to use libraries and use the money where I would have bought books to donate to causes.
Bracing myself to be nicer to people who are not nice to me.
Bracing myself to listen to people who voted for Trump. Listen to people so I understand and not listen to refute.

Bracing myself for a long four years.

Microblog Monday - Though I have been silent, I shall not be still

I refuse to give in to despair.

I have to hug a four-year-old and help her to make sense of the world around her. I have to do it with a smile. She is watching me, you see, to see how to deal with disappointments.

I scared her a little bit. I was crying. I was actively planning to grab her and leave the country. I started research, where could we live, make a living and then yet return.

This weekend we took her to a movie about Trolls who sing. It was her first movie in a theater and she's glommed onto this song.

That's what we do, we get back up again.
I had practice during infertility. After a failed cycle, I cried and cycled again. After roadblock to roadblock in our adoption of Lotus we did it.

Now she needs to watch me do it. Life is full of disappointments--big and small. Lotus will watch me and see how I act. She has to see me get up. She has to see me go on. She has to see me listen to things that make me physically ill and still defend people's right to say them. She has to see me watch a protest and explain that people have the right to do it. They don't have the right to hurt people.

My daughter is watching. Therefore sometimes I am silent. But I am not still.

This is worse than disappointment. No one has to tell me this is worse. I am viscerally scared--not as scared as some, more than others, but I do know this is worse.

And yet, I calmed down. I'm not saying I don't have an exit plan, but I'm waiting. I'm being quiet and listening. I'm reading what my friends on both sides of debate say. YES, I have friends who voted for Trump. I imagine if they had a blog they would say, of me, YES I have friends who voted for Clinton.

But I will not be still.

I am contacting my state representatives.  I didn't know who they were until two days ago. I am going to see how to make my state house blue.

I am signing up to email with the people running for New Jersey governor in 2017. I will help on the campaign. I will work.

I will stand beside my friends of color. I will stand beside my LGBTQ friends. I will stand besides my sisters. I hope they will stand beside my Jewish self.

I will not be still.

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains

I still remain. I will not be still.

SaveSaveSaveSave

Microblog Monday - Tomorrow we discover

One day more. 
Another day, another destiny, 

It comes down to this.

Do you believe that everyone in this country should be free to worship any religion (or no religion at all)?

Trump doesn't.

One more day before the storm.
At the barricades of freedom

Because of this man's infernal ego and his ultimate insistence that he has to be a winner he is putting our democracy at risk. He doesn't understand the meaning of public service.

Do I stay and do I dare?

Never in recent memory have so many people been trying to make sure so many others don't vote. A federal judge called what was going on in North Carolina a systematic racist discrimination.

The time is now. The day is here!

After the longest campaign period ever. It is finally our turn to weigh in. It is our turn to vote.


One day to a new beginning
Raise the flag of freedom high
Every one can be a king
There's a new world for the winning
There's a new world to be won
Do you hear the people sing!

Yes, I changed the words.  Everyone deserves a chance to be the president. It is time for that glass ceiling to be shattered. It is time for a woman president. It is time for Hillary. Do I like all the baggage she will bring? No. No, I don't.

Do I worry that she will start a nuclear war because someone insulter her teeny tiny little hands? No, no I don't.


Tomorrow is the judgement day!
Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store!
One more dawn.
One more day.
One. Day. More. 

Get out and vote.

Microblog Monday--What next

There is a lot of shit going on in the world.
Innocent black men being murdered by policemen on a power trip.
Innocent policemen being murdered.
A horrific attack on adults and children in Nice.
A coup going on--or not--it seems to be unsure in Turkey.
Likely between the time I post this and the time you read this there will be something else unimaginably horrible happening.

Seriously I tried to think of a good post that would somehow lend words to these horrible tragedies.

I want to comfort those who mourn.
I have no words.  How do I tell the families of those grieving their loved ones anything. I didn't know these people and policemen and innocents who were killed. Yet, my world is diminished because they left it.

For the politicians who can't get it together to agree that guns don't belong in the hands of children without a lot of restrictions, I want to do what my daughter's preschool teacher does. When two children are fighting, the teacher sits them down looking at each other. They have to say one nice thing about the other and then put a jigsaw puzzle together. If they refuse to do even that they are put on the "get along" seat until they can. I would like to see Harry Reid and Mitch McConnell on a get along couch and then doing a puzzle.

I want to fix something--and I don't know how to fix it.

How would you fix the world? What change would you like to make that would be snowballing?