Lately I've been looking back at some of the "life lessons" I've experienced since I began a serious writing career many years ago.
I'm reminded of a moment when I was writing about Navajo rugs. I didn't know a thing about the subject, and the man I was interviewing was a revered expert in the field. He said two things that stuck with me. They both had to do with my lack of preparation. He observed that I needed to learn my subject matter before I could intelligently talk to him. The second was that the way I could learn the meaning of "good quality" was to extensively compare rugs on my own. The more I was familiar with the subject, the better I could make a solid judgement.
A few years later, I was writing an article for my city publication on jewelry design, another subject I knew nothing about. My editor was so patient as he ushered me through the process. I struggled with trying to figure out how to focus my article. For me, finding authorities was not the problem. I had been trained well when I worked for a CBS Chicago talk show. What was difficult was synthesizing the theme, making comparisons between designers and still writing an article that would hold the reader's attention. As a sidelight, I also learned how to control those I was interviewing. One of the designers wanted to read my article before it was published to make sure she was portrayed in a good light. One of the cardinal rules, I learned, was that the article I wrote needed only to have my imprimateur and no-one else's as long as the facts were true.
The joy of writing continues for me to be the discoveries I make every time I tackle a new subject as well as the unending goal of mine: to educate and entertain with integrity.
I love reading about successful writers who have settled into repeating a prescribed method. Maybe I just haven't achieved that capability yet. I still think that, even if that were miraculously to occur, I would still desire to always keep learning and keep getting better.
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Friday, January 10, 2020
Robert Redford and Me
My father always told me that making gains in life would always be a matter of taking two steps forward and one step backward. He had lots of sayings, "Act the part and you'll be the part," Benjamin Franklin's "All that you do, do with your might. Things done by halves are never done right." "I don't like that man. I need to get to know him better." "You're known by your friends as well as your enemies." He was a Dale Carnegie man and was always trying to improve himself. I think he did a pretty good job for a scrapper from the west side of Chicago.
I don't think my dad ever had any hopes for his daughter to become a writer. Actually I don't think he had any aspirations for me at all. They were all for my brother and he was very disappointed when his son took a totally different direction.
I have just completed writing my third book and the first one to be published by a traditional publisher.
I'm feeling very nostalgic about the long road that has led me to what I consider a very important achievement.
One of my favorite steps forward occurred in the seventies when I retired from working first as a teacher and then as a television producer to become a stay at home mom. In quick succession I gave birth to two sons. I believed in laundering my own diapers and I used to call the bathroom "O'Hare Field" where the dirty diapers were lined up before I laundered them. In winter each day it would take me an hour to bundle up the children to go pick up my husband at the train station in the bitter Chicago cold.
I was living in a Chicago North Shore suburb and had become a runner first indoors at the local high school track and in the summer along the streets of the lush suburb in which I lived.
The suburb was so picturesque that several movies were shot in the area. One of the earliest to be filmed was "Ordinary People" starring and produced by Robert Redford and also starring Mary Tyler Moore.
I knew one of the sets was a few blocks away from where I lived and one day I happened to run by the house.
Looky loos surrounded the set and there were trailers all over the place.
After my run, I went home and wrote about it.
Then in a bold move, I called up (in those days it wasn't all about email) a new magazine that covered the North Shore and asked if they might be interested in publishing the article. They said they couldn't pay me but if I wanted to have it published anyway, they would like to publish it.
To see my name in print was enough and the reception was quite pleasing. A lot of people read the article.
That was the beginning of my official writing career.
Through the years there have been many highs and lows and many lessons to be learned.
I have to say that the struggles have made it worth the time it took to get to this point. In the future I hope the path will get easier, but just trying and once in a while succeeding in what I love to do most is a thrill for me.
I don't think my dad ever had any hopes for his daughter to become a writer. Actually I don't think he had any aspirations for me at all. They were all for my brother and he was very disappointed when his son took a totally different direction.
I have just completed writing my third book and the first one to be published by a traditional publisher.
I'm feeling very nostalgic about the long road that has led me to what I consider a very important achievement.
One of my favorite steps forward occurred in the seventies when I retired from working first as a teacher and then as a television producer to become a stay at home mom. In quick succession I gave birth to two sons. I believed in laundering my own diapers and I used to call the bathroom "O'Hare Field" where the dirty diapers were lined up before I laundered them. In winter each day it would take me an hour to bundle up the children to go pick up my husband at the train station in the bitter Chicago cold.
I was living in a Chicago North Shore suburb and had become a runner first indoors at the local high school track and in the summer along the streets of the lush suburb in which I lived.
The suburb was so picturesque that several movies were shot in the area. One of the earliest to be filmed was "Ordinary People" starring and produced by Robert Redford and also starring Mary Tyler Moore.
I knew one of the sets was a few blocks away from where I lived and one day I happened to run by the house.
Looky loos surrounded the set and there were trailers all over the place.
After my run, I went home and wrote about it.
Then in a bold move, I called up (in those days it wasn't all about email) a new magazine that covered the North Shore and asked if they might be interested in publishing the article. They said they couldn't pay me but if I wanted to have it published anyway, they would like to publish it.
To see my name in print was enough and the reception was quite pleasing. A lot of people read the article.
That was the beginning of my official writing career.
Through the years there have been many highs and lows and many lessons to be learned.
I have to say that the struggles have made it worth the time it took to get to this point. In the future I hope the path will get easier, but just trying and once in a while succeeding in what I love to do most is a thrill for me.
Monday, November 18, 2019
Reading Through LIfe
Reading has always been a big part of my life and now that I’ve been around for more than seven decades, I’ve been thinking about how my reading life has journeyed.
I can’t remember my first book or having my mother or my father read to me.
I do remember that when I was in fourth grade my teacher Mrs. Beere (very pregnant at the time) read the class “Charlotte’s Web.” And I do remember going to my school library and having Mrs. Petersen suggest a series of orange biographies for me to read. My recollection was that they included biographies about Robert Fulton who invented the steamboat and Jane Adams a well known social worker who started Hull House, a home for poor women. I must have read ten of these biographies. When I had finished those books, Mrs. Petersen handed me a huge volume; it was the biography of Mary Todd Lincoln and it took me months to complete. This was probably my first real introduction to adversity.
Out of the classroom, I began to read stories about Betsy written by Maude Harte Lovelace and went from when Betsy was young in Betsy, Tacy and Tib to the final Betsy’s Wedding written in 1952. Most of my early reading was about living in the idyllic fifties. Ironically I never read Laura Ingalls Wilder. I did read the Sue Barton books about being a nurse and some Cherry Ames books. I have never liked mysteries and only read one Nancy Drew. And
I did love the Bobbsey Twins.
I did love the Bobbsey Twins.
I probably had a big lapse in reading starting in middle school and only when Grace Metalious’s Peyton Place made its sensational debut in the late fifties did I decide I wanted to take up books very seriously. That paved the way for my further reading of Danielle Steele and Judith Krantz when I was raising my children.
Occasionally I would get serious about literature and read the icons particularly American writers from the twentieth century like Saul Bellow, John Steinbeck, Philip Roth, and eventually even some women like Edith Wharton.
Through the years there’s a thread in my reading. I’ve become more confident about what I choose and to be able to identify it immediately. I’ve learned I like to mirror what society is up to. I’ve always been an idealist and hoping to make things better. For that reason, I’ve gone through periods where all I read about is the Holocaust or African Americans or Women.
Regardless, as I grow older my thirst to read is only increasing. Whether I’m being entertained or educated or made to think, there is no doubt about my love for reading.
Not too long ago a New York Times reporter, Joanne Kaufman talked about her time reading “Malt Shop Novels” and confessed that at the time she was embarrassed that she wasn’t reading more erudite literature. I definitely back up her take and enclose the link to her essay with my own take on how we don't always have to be deep readers!
Something to pass on to our kids and grandkids.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
THE Post
Yesterday I went to see "The Post," Stephen Spielberg's new movie about the Washington Post's decision to publish documents stolen by Daniel Ellsberg from the Defense Department that verified the futility of the Viet Nam War six years prior to Mr. Ellsberg's theft and while the war was continuing to rage and kill hundreds of thousands of American soldiers. With megastars like Tom Hanks as Post editor Ben Bradley and Meryl Streep as Katherine Graham, the very tentative and new publisher who had just inherited her position when her husband died by suicide, and with John Williams writing the music, there could be no doubt that the movie was Oscar worthy. Right?
Well, it is a winner on many counts. First the message is so "right on" at the moment and the sets and clothes are fun to watch and there's a lot cute "shticks" that keep the audience entertained. For example, all during the back and forth that takes place at Mrs. Graham's beautiful Georgetown brownstone, her grandaughter sells lemonade and makes a tidy sum. And there's another very funny scene where one of the lower members of the editorial staff is asked who had delivered Ellsberg's documents and he goes on and on describing her hippie clothes and finally settles in on "tie-dye" with nobody listening.
It's also a winner because it's written and directed by two women who present the entire tale from a woman's point of view albeit with a very heavy hand. There's the "touching scene" where Katherine sits next to her daughter in the bedroom where her two granddaughters are sleeping and Katherine relives her feelings at the time of her husband's death when she is asked by the newspaper's board to give a few words of reassurance and her daughter writes the words for her to say. The words show the strength of the conviction that though she's a woman and she's had no experience except in caring for her children and giving unending cocktail parties, several of which are shown in the movie, she can do the job.
Above all the courage that Mrs. Graham and Ben Bradley cobble together to take the chance that they may go to jail for publishing the papers and risk the profitability of the company against the wishes of all the financiers and professionals that surround them is so mind boggling that whatever other reason for the clumsiness of the movie pales in comparison.
There are many scenes that emphasize women's roles at the time: Mrs. Graham walks into a boardroom where she is the only female. She dithers frequently in her demeanor frequently apologizing when she knocks over a chair or when she crosses a street until in the crowning moment she finds her voice and makes her final decision against the majority of men in the room. At the end of the movie, the message is punctuated by her departure from the Supreme Court where a sea of women step aside as she descends the stairs. Very symbolic.
I find it interesting that my daughter-in-law thought the movie was boring. What that says to me is that despite the timely message about the importance of freedom of the press, the minutiae regarding the jigs and jogs that occurred before the Post's win lacks action. It's just too "talky" for her. Even I had trouble understanding some of the dialogue and I'm a political wonk.
As for Mr. Hanks and Ms. Streep, they are their amazing selves and just not convincing enough to be sold to me as the larger than life figures of Ben Bradley and Katherine Graham.
Still, I was totally drawn to the retelling of a time in which I was living through the dark days of an unending war that came to no good.
Well, it is a winner on many counts. First the message is so "right on" at the moment and the sets and clothes are fun to watch and there's a lot cute "shticks" that keep the audience entertained. For example, all during the back and forth that takes place at Mrs. Graham's beautiful Georgetown brownstone, her grandaughter sells lemonade and makes a tidy sum. And there's another very funny scene where one of the lower members of the editorial staff is asked who had delivered Ellsberg's documents and he goes on and on describing her hippie clothes and finally settles in on "tie-dye" with nobody listening.
It's also a winner because it's written and directed by two women who present the entire tale from a woman's point of view albeit with a very heavy hand. There's the "touching scene" where Katherine sits next to her daughter in the bedroom where her two granddaughters are sleeping and Katherine relives her feelings at the time of her husband's death when she is asked by the newspaper's board to give a few words of reassurance and her daughter writes the words for her to say. The words show the strength of the conviction that though she's a woman and she's had no experience except in caring for her children and giving unending cocktail parties, several of which are shown in the movie, she can do the job.
Above all the courage that Mrs. Graham and Ben Bradley cobble together to take the chance that they may go to jail for publishing the papers and risk the profitability of the company against the wishes of all the financiers and professionals that surround them is so mind boggling that whatever other reason for the clumsiness of the movie pales in comparison.
There are many scenes that emphasize women's roles at the time: Mrs. Graham walks into a boardroom where she is the only female. She dithers frequently in her demeanor frequently apologizing when she knocks over a chair or when she crosses a street until in the crowning moment she finds her voice and makes her final decision against the majority of men in the room. At the end of the movie, the message is punctuated by her departure from the Supreme Court where a sea of women step aside as she descends the stairs. Very symbolic.
I find it interesting that my daughter-in-law thought the movie was boring. What that says to me is that despite the timely message about the importance of freedom of the press, the minutiae regarding the jigs and jogs that occurred before the Post's win lacks action. It's just too "talky" for her. Even I had trouble understanding some of the dialogue and I'm a political wonk.
As for Mr. Hanks and Ms. Streep, they are their amazing selves and just not convincing enough to be sold to me as the larger than life figures of Ben Bradley and Katherine Graham.
Still, I was totally drawn to the retelling of a time in which I was living through the dark days of an unending war that came to no good.
Saturday, December 23, 2017
An Epiphany
I think everybody will agree that 2017 was a tough year. The election, the me too movement, the usual mass murders and the continuing threats of terrorism.
Personally my life is going through changes and I'm sort of thinking that our country's issues are exacerbating my own crises.
Whatever the reason, I have just come to realize that all these events are coming to a head and that they will make us better in the future. We're all going to have to look at it that way or we're going to be in a permanent funk.
I do believe that part of America wants to return to the old ways where the white man rules, where money is power, and where the food chain is part of life. Those on the other side of a more humane way of approaching things have had eight years of reigning and those from the old school don't really care for their approach.
I'm a Libra and I'm in the middle. I've never been a fervent feminist though I've always wanted to lead an independent life and be an accomplished individual but I've never really blamed anybody else if I didn't succeed. I have great respect for others and for their struggles and successes but I do believe that initiative and discipline are a part of getting ahead.
My nephew who has never kept a job for more than six months told me that my late brother, his dad, once told him that it's all a matter of luck as to whether one succeeds or fails. That to me is a copout.
So on a grander scale, let's just say that the struggle between the old and the new is current and not etched in stone. Though we don't have complete control of how things go, we can do our part and maybe have some impact on our future as a country. I would omit finger pointing and name calling as part of the mix. There are loftier means of being involved.
Happy Holidays!
Saturday, December 16, 2017
I'm Corny
I'm pretty sure it began with all those ballet, piano, and drama lessons that began when I was four, but I love anything that is saccharine and corny. I was raised on doing the hula and the can can, singing Easter Parade and being Mrs. Darling in Peter Pan.
Especially during the holidays, I am prone to create an Ozzie and Harriet atmosphere just like my mom created for me. I rarely miss the Macy's Day Parade (though I walked the Turkey Trot this year instead), the Parade of Roses on New Year's Day or a night during the holiday watching "White Christmas." The day after Thanksgiving, I start to play a collected number of Christmas CD's by Ella, Harry Connick, Jr., Ottmart Leibert, Neil Diamond and a bunch of the usuals like Bing and Dean. Oh what fun it is! On Christmas Day with as many kids as I can muster around me or maybe just with my husband, the sounds of Handel's Messiah can be heard throughout the household.
I always top this off by starting a jigsaw puzzle at Thanksgiving and continuing to work on it until I finish it usually around Christmas. I've done Elvis, presidential buttons and snow scenes. This year's entry: Movie Posters. Last year I did 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.
In between I shop, wrap and prepare food if anyone is around to eat it, but even if they aren't, recreating memories associated with all these rituals is something I hope to do for a long time to come.
Corny is good.
Especially during the holidays, I am prone to create an Ozzie and Harriet atmosphere just like my mom created for me. I rarely miss the Macy's Day Parade (though I walked the Turkey Trot this year instead), the Parade of Roses on New Year's Day or a night during the holiday watching "White Christmas." The day after Thanksgiving, I start to play a collected number of Christmas CD's by Ella, Harry Connick, Jr., Ottmart Leibert, Neil Diamond and a bunch of the usuals like Bing and Dean. Oh what fun it is! On Christmas Day with as many kids as I can muster around me or maybe just with my husband, the sounds of Handel's Messiah can be heard throughout the household.
I always top this off by starting a jigsaw puzzle at Thanksgiving and continuing to work on it until I finish it usually around Christmas. I've done Elvis, presidential buttons and snow scenes. This year's entry: Movie Posters. Last year I did 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.
In between I shop, wrap and prepare food if anyone is around to eat it, but even if they aren't, recreating memories associated with all these rituals is something I hope to do for a long time to come.
Corny is good.
Friday, December 15, 2017
The Jitters
This week my landscape "designer" fired me. I have used this service for more than ten years, many years before this young person purchased it from the woman who originally created the business. She was devoted to personal service. In fact her entire family worked the business and one sister still works there today.
It is true that I I'm a very meticulous person especially about charges. I had asked him to explain why my year end bill was so high and queried him about what our contract specified. Having owned my own retail business for eleven years, I'm certainly aware of customer concerns and handled them regularly in as politic a manner as I could.
I was hurt by his response. He said he'd had enough of my questions and he no longer wished to do business with me. I've actually never been fired by any business and I'm seventy-four years old.
Being a sensitive soul, though few people know this to be true, I was stung. I had recently had a difficult confrontation with my son and I am still feeling a bit paranoid today. Am I too demanding? Am I thinking that others should be more aware of my needs? Should I just be quiet when things bother me?
Of course this is a matter of judgement in the long run. It took me years to speak up and now that I do, when something bothers me I get in trouble.
I think everyone is kind of sensitive right now. The country's climate is so uneasy. People are fighting all the time for what they believe to be their rights and their privileges. It's Christmastime right now and there seems to be a lack of joy. Everybody is on eggshells including me and certainly including my former landscaper.
In response to my malaise, I am trying to put all this into perspective, but it's not coming easily. If this streak of sadness is coming to me, someone I consider myself a very lucky person, then what are others feeling and thinking?
I hope we all get over this soon. It's a time for introspection and for making a strong effort to reverse this collective feeling. I have no answers, but I'll work on it. Maybe we all can work on this.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
The Eight Days of Christmas
Let's get one thing on the table right away. I am the daughter of two Jewish parents, I married a Jewish man and I raised both of my boys to be Jewish. I consider myself Jewish, though not particularly observant. I've always belonged to a temple/synagogue and once in a while I go to services.
I have always lived in America, a primarily Christian country, and I've lived in neighborhoods where I was either in the minority or else among a substantial number of Christians. Of course, I grew up in the fifties, a time when segregation among different ethnic and religious groups was fairly normal and the word "inclusion" had not been coined.
What I'm really trying to say is that even though I'm Jewish, I LOVE Christmas. As the child of a German Jewish mother, I had a Christmas tree. I lived in a suburb where I was the first Jewish member of my fourth grade class and I learned every Christmas carol both religious and seasonal.
When I raised my family we initially had a Christmas tree and only stopped having one when some of our Jewish neighbors complained.
At that point I began a tradition that has continued for at least forty years now and that is still going on even as I am reaching later life.
We try to celebrate the season on Christmas Day with the family members who are around. I buy eight gifts for each member of the family that symbolize the eight days of Chanukah, a somewhat less significant Jewish holiday that occurs during the Christmas season. Every year I say I'm going to discontinue the tradition. It costs too much and it takes too much time. And every year out of habit I continue to do it.
I buy one gift that has the same theme for everyone. Last year everyone got earbuds or headphones. The year before everyone got plaid shirts. My kids in particular remember one year when they were growing up and my husband and I were scrimping for funds. Two of their gifts were one sock of a pair and then the other!
Nothing makes me happier than gathering together for brunch or dinner and opening the gifts from number one to eight that range in price from expensive to cheap. That includes dogs and cats (but only one for them!). I put up the Happy Hanukah sign on the fireplace and we eat bagels for breakfast and prime rib for dinner. We play the Hallelujah Chorus, but now no other Christmas carols, since my daughter-in-law is more culturally Jewish than our family.
To me traditions run strong. I'll give my German mother credit for instilling that belief in me. Every holiday was observed with great panache whether it was Passover, Easter, or a birthday. The memories are strong and the anticipation each year continues to make life richer.
I have always lived in America, a primarily Christian country, and I've lived in neighborhoods where I was either in the minority or else among a substantial number of Christians. Of course, I grew up in the fifties, a time when segregation among different ethnic and religious groups was fairly normal and the word "inclusion" had not been coined.
What I'm really trying to say is that even though I'm Jewish, I LOVE Christmas. As the child of a German Jewish mother, I had a Christmas tree. I lived in a suburb where I was the first Jewish member of my fourth grade class and I learned every Christmas carol both religious and seasonal.
When I raised my family we initially had a Christmas tree and only stopped having one when some of our Jewish neighbors complained.
At that point I began a tradition that has continued for at least forty years now and that is still going on even as I am reaching later life.
We try to celebrate the season on Christmas Day with the family members who are around. I buy eight gifts for each member of the family that symbolize the eight days of Chanukah, a somewhat less significant Jewish holiday that occurs during the Christmas season. Every year I say I'm going to discontinue the tradition. It costs too much and it takes too much time. And every year out of habit I continue to do it.
I buy one gift that has the same theme for everyone. Last year everyone got earbuds or headphones. The year before everyone got plaid shirts. My kids in particular remember one year when they were growing up and my husband and I were scrimping for funds. Two of their gifts were one sock of a pair and then the other!
Nothing makes me happier than gathering together for brunch or dinner and opening the gifts from number one to eight that range in price from expensive to cheap. That includes dogs and cats (but only one for them!). I put up the Happy Hanukah sign on the fireplace and we eat bagels for breakfast and prime rib for dinner. We play the Hallelujah Chorus, but now no other Christmas carols, since my daughter-in-law is more culturally Jewish than our family.
To me traditions run strong. I'll give my German mother credit for instilling that belief in me. Every holiday was observed with great panache whether it was Passover, Easter, or a birthday. The memories are strong and the anticipation each year continues to make life richer.
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Family
I was very lucky to have my entire nuclear family at our house for Thanksgiving. In addition we invited my newly orphaned niece and nephew so they would have company for their first Thanksgiving without a parent.
Both my sons and their spouses rallied to support my husband and I, and our two wonderful grandkids pitched in too. One of my daughters-in-law served as a fabulous sous chef throughout the time leading up to the big event. She chopped, assembled, stirred, set the table, reminded me to put the cranberries on the table and chatted and laughed while she did it all. Along with their dad, my terrific sons kept the conversation going and after a very filling and delightful meal, cleaned up afterwards and put all the food away.
Everyone participated in the entertainment options including a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day, a marathon game of Life with the grandkids and my niece and nephew, a visit to the dog park in the afternoon, and a game of charades after the big meal and before a delicious array of desserts prepared by my other amazing daughter-in-law and the grandkids, all topped off by a marvelous Chateau d'Yquem sauterne after dinner drink that my dear husband took out for the occasion.
It was such a perfect weekend and I will treasure the memories forever.
Both my sons and their spouses rallied to support my husband and I, and our two wonderful grandkids pitched in too. One of my daughters-in-law served as a fabulous sous chef throughout the time leading up to the big event. She chopped, assembled, stirred, set the table, reminded me to put the cranberries on the table and chatted and laughed while she did it all. Along with their dad, my terrific sons kept the conversation going and after a very filling and delightful meal, cleaned up afterwards and put all the food away.
Everyone participated in the entertainment options including a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day, a marathon game of Life with the grandkids and my niece and nephew, a visit to the dog park in the afternoon, and a game of charades after the big meal and before a delicious array of desserts prepared by my other amazing daughter-in-law and the grandkids, all topped off by a marvelous Chateau d'Yquem sauterne after dinner drink that my dear husband took out for the occasion.
It was such a perfect weekend and I will treasure the memories forever.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Readers
Last Monday I went to the "launch" of the Second Annual Colorado Book Festival. I went as an observer as opposed to being the active participant that I was for the first annual event.
The chairman introduced the head of the library which was a cosponsor for the festival, a local television personality who is a meteorologist and who conducts an on air book club, and the main speaker, a lexicographer from the University of Colorado who has just published a book with the venerable Oxford Publishing Company. The audience was wonky and loved the subject of cliches. I was dying to talk about foreign policy and politics.
What happened? Why had I "dropped out?"
There were many reasons but looking back I could attribute it to one in particular: a difference of opinion about what the Colorado Book Festival should be.
I drew my inspiration for my philosophy from watching CSPAN 2's Book TV every weekend during which time they visit book festivals all over the country, in Mississippi, in Tuscon, in Ohio, in Brooklyn. Each city holds interviews and presentations that reflect where they live but that also expose the national audience to ideas that made them unique. For example, I recall watching the Mississippi Book Festival one week where one of the panels featured acclaimed historian Jon Meachem who grew up in Mississippi and the subject of the panel centered around race relations today. Why, I thought to myself couldn't Denver talk about some of their esteemed authors both past and present and about the colorful history that makes Colorado unique? Why not taut the
contributions that it makes to the national scene?
Many of my ideas were, in fact, put into place. Among the presentations were ones by our governor who had just written a book about his rise in politics, a University of Colorado professor who had recently won a Pulitzer Prize for her study of Native Americans, the authors of a book about the Aurora mass killings a couple of years ago, and a well known novelist who writes about the West.
The members of my committee assembled panels with topics about business writing, poetry and sports. None of them concerned current slants on these massive genres.
There were many disappointments, most notably, a lack of publicity, but more importantly the lack of of concern for the history and legacy of our State as it relates to the rest of our country. I had offered a list of criteria on how to base the committee's selections to no avail. A raffle was of greater interest as were the logistics of the children's corner.
So is it going to be better this year with a more aggressive chairman who is not that interested in sophisticated reading either, but does know how to promote and organize?
If the launch is any reflection, the festival will probably draw lots of people who love to read and that's a good thing. It just won't move them to seek a higher bar. It won't stimulate them to reach beyond what they already know and it won't open any doors to challenge themselves. And it certainly won't give them an insight into the national scene. As Colorado has been criticized in the past, it will remain in awe of the outside world but with no clue on how to interact with those beyond their city.
I comfort myself with the fact that we'll have more booklovers. Even though to me it's a contest to get better and gain more attention from other parts of the country, those surrounding me are content to just have a festival. I suppose I'm better off not being so judgmental.
The chairman introduced the head of the library which was a cosponsor for the festival, a local television personality who is a meteorologist and who conducts an on air book club, and the main speaker, a lexicographer from the University of Colorado who has just published a book with the venerable Oxford Publishing Company. The audience was wonky and loved the subject of cliches. I was dying to talk about foreign policy and politics.
What happened? Why had I "dropped out?"
There were many reasons but looking back I could attribute it to one in particular: a difference of opinion about what the Colorado Book Festival should be.
I drew my inspiration for my philosophy from watching CSPAN 2's Book TV every weekend during which time they visit book festivals all over the country, in Mississippi, in Tuscon, in Ohio, in Brooklyn. Each city holds interviews and presentations that reflect where they live but that also expose the national audience to ideas that made them unique. For example, I recall watching the Mississippi Book Festival one week where one of the panels featured acclaimed historian Jon Meachem who grew up in Mississippi and the subject of the panel centered around race relations today. Why, I thought to myself couldn't Denver talk about some of their esteemed authors both past and present and about the colorful history that makes Colorado unique? Why not taut the
contributions that it makes to the national scene?
Many of my ideas were, in fact, put into place. Among the presentations were ones by our governor who had just written a book about his rise in politics, a University of Colorado professor who had recently won a Pulitzer Prize for her study of Native Americans, the authors of a book about the Aurora mass killings a couple of years ago, and a well known novelist who writes about the West.
The members of my committee assembled panels with topics about business writing, poetry and sports. None of them concerned current slants on these massive genres.
There were many disappointments, most notably, a lack of publicity, but more importantly the lack of of concern for the history and legacy of our State as it relates to the rest of our country. I had offered a list of criteria on how to base the committee's selections to no avail. A raffle was of greater interest as were the logistics of the children's corner.
So is it going to be better this year with a more aggressive chairman who is not that interested in sophisticated reading either, but does know how to promote and organize?
If the launch is any reflection, the festival will probably draw lots of people who love to read and that's a good thing. It just won't move them to seek a higher bar. It won't stimulate them to reach beyond what they already know and it won't open any doors to challenge themselves. And it certainly won't give them an insight into the national scene. As Colorado has been criticized in the past, it will remain in awe of the outside world but with no clue on how to interact with those beyond their city.
I comfort myself with the fact that we'll have more booklovers. Even though to me it's a contest to get better and gain more attention from other parts of the country, those surrounding me are content to just have a festival. I suppose I'm better off not being so judgmental.
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Nature or Nurture?
Many years ago I lived in a highly competitive suburb. Being smart, rich and attractive all ruled our entire lives. I still remember a kindergarten concert where the child of one of our friends got the lead role playing the xylophone and the rest of us were sure the parents "bribed" the teacher! The point was you had to win.
So my story really is about two sisters-in-law who each had two sons. The husbands were I believe both smart lawyers who attended good schools. Two of their sons were the same age. One of the sisters-in-laws was particularly competitive. She had in her mind making sure her son got into Harvard. Discussion always revolved around how smart he was. The other sister-in-law was more modest and humble about her own intelligence. She was extremely organized. Her son was always well dressed, well moderated and well scheduled. I liked him a lot. He was in my son's play group and he was just a cute kid.
So guess which kid went to Harvard? The brilliant son of the pushy sister-in-law or the cute son of my friend who provided a comfortable, loving and consistent environment? You're right if you say the second choice.
Now, how to apply this to my own children's upbringing.
Well, I have to say that I started out being extremely ambitious for my children. Not to the point of bribery, but I did think it was important for them to get along with other kids and to get good grades in school. Of course, if they were singled out, I liked that too.
There were a couple of life lessons that eventually made me turn more toward nurture than nature.
The first lesson came when our younger son was in second grade and was having difficulty calming down in his school situation. At a conference with his teacher, she suggested to me that I concentrate on setting more rules at home, her theory being that if he had chores and responsibility at home, he would learn how to do the same at school. In other words, don't do as I say, do as I do.
The second lesson occurred when our older son was applying to college and was close to developing a chronic health problem. He was an honor student, a competitive tennis player and a really nice kid.
At that point I knew that it was my job to love him and not put such high expectations on him that it would impact his well being.
Today I still want my kids to do well. I'm not so great on unconditional love. But I hope they know that my love for them is greater than my judgment of their success. I've always told them to be the best that they can be, but only for their own sakes. We all feel better when we're complete and I've also told them being complete is having love in one's life, being happy with one's work and having friends.
Maybe it's a bit of nature and a bit of nurture.
So my story really is about two sisters-in-law who each had two sons. The husbands were I believe both smart lawyers who attended good schools. Two of their sons were the same age. One of the sisters-in-laws was particularly competitive. She had in her mind making sure her son got into Harvard. Discussion always revolved around how smart he was. The other sister-in-law was more modest and humble about her own intelligence. She was extremely organized. Her son was always well dressed, well moderated and well scheduled. I liked him a lot. He was in my son's play group and he was just a cute kid.
So guess which kid went to Harvard? The brilliant son of the pushy sister-in-law or the cute son of my friend who provided a comfortable, loving and consistent environment? You're right if you say the second choice.
Now, how to apply this to my own children's upbringing.
Well, I have to say that I started out being extremely ambitious for my children. Not to the point of bribery, but I did think it was important for them to get along with other kids and to get good grades in school. Of course, if they were singled out, I liked that too.
There were a couple of life lessons that eventually made me turn more toward nurture than nature.
The first lesson came when our younger son was in second grade and was having difficulty calming down in his school situation. At a conference with his teacher, she suggested to me that I concentrate on setting more rules at home, her theory being that if he had chores and responsibility at home, he would learn how to do the same at school. In other words, don't do as I say, do as I do.
The second lesson occurred when our older son was applying to college and was close to developing a chronic health problem. He was an honor student, a competitive tennis player and a really nice kid.
At that point I knew that it was my job to love him and not put such high expectations on him that it would impact his well being.
Today I still want my kids to do well. I'm not so great on unconditional love. But I hope they know that my love for them is greater than my judgment of their success. I've always told them to be the best that they can be, but only for their own sakes. We all feel better when we're complete and I've also told them being complete is having love in one's life, being happy with one's work and having friends.
Maybe it's a bit of nature and a bit of nurture.
Saturday, November 4, 2017
When Shel Silverstein Made a Pass at Me
I lamented to my girlfriends that, though I do not approve of Harvey Weinstein and his company of men who sexually harass women, I felt kind of bad that I had never been approached by a man. But then I got to thinking that I really was approached by many men, just not as aggressively as the women whose approaches were more extreme. I'm reminded of Dorothy Parker's saying that she made somewhere back in the thirties or forties: "Men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses." In other words, those of us less voluptuous are commonly not the target of aggressive men.
But men did make passes at me when I was younger. The one that stands out is the time when I was 27 and an intern at CBS in Chicago while earning my master's degree at Northwestern University. My first job was to go the Playboy Mansion located in the swanky Gold Coast area of Chicago where Shel Silverstein lived and to get him to sign an agreement to allow his song "A Boy Named Sue" to be sung on a local program.
I called Mr. Silverstein on the phone. He started to make overtures toward me. "When can we meet?" sounded a bit ominous to me and I panicked for a week before I got back to him. Shakily I called again and made arrangements to have him sign the agreement. As a back up I asked my husband to drive me to the mansion. I even remember what I was wearing: a two piece print blouse and skirt. It was summertime.
With strict instructions to my husband, I got out of the car and opened the seven foot iron gate to the mansion, rang the bell and waited for Mr. Silverstein to answer it. Soon after a short, bald, bearded man with glasses answered the door and we stood in the entry hall while I handed him the papers. Apparently he had decided I was not worth the effort or else when he saw that I was a short Jewish woman who probably looked like his mother, he would go elsewhere to pursue his prurian interests. He quickly signed the papers and returned them to me without a glitch.
And that's the story of when Shel Silverstein made a pass at me. In the years to come I would often think of him when I was reading "Where the Sidewalk Ends," or "The Giving Tree" or "Lafcadio" to my children and my grandchildren. He still delights me though, no doubt, he probably had all kinds of sexual harassment stories to tell before he passed away.
But men did make passes at me when I was younger. The one that stands out is the time when I was 27 and an intern at CBS in Chicago while earning my master's degree at Northwestern University. My first job was to go the Playboy Mansion located in the swanky Gold Coast area of Chicago where Shel Silverstein lived and to get him to sign an agreement to allow his song "A Boy Named Sue" to be sung on a local program.
I called Mr. Silverstein on the phone. He started to make overtures toward me. "When can we meet?" sounded a bit ominous to me and I panicked for a week before I got back to him. Shakily I called again and made arrangements to have him sign the agreement. As a back up I asked my husband to drive me to the mansion. I even remember what I was wearing: a two piece print blouse and skirt. It was summertime.
With strict instructions to my husband, I got out of the car and opened the seven foot iron gate to the mansion, rang the bell and waited for Mr. Silverstein to answer it. Soon after a short, bald, bearded man with glasses answered the door and we stood in the entry hall while I handed him the papers. Apparently he had decided I was not worth the effort or else when he saw that I was a short Jewish woman who probably looked like his mother, he would go elsewhere to pursue his prurian interests. He quickly signed the papers and returned them to me without a glitch.
And that's the story of when Shel Silverstein made a pass at me. In the years to come I would often think of him when I was reading "Where the Sidewalk Ends," or "The Giving Tree" or "Lafcadio" to my children and my grandchildren. He still delights me though, no doubt, he probably had all kinds of sexual harassment stories to tell before he passed away.
Friday, October 27, 2017
Just Watch Harvey
Just Watch Harvey
On March 2, 1970, beloved actress Helen Hayes appeared on
The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to plug the revival of the play Harvey in
which she and actor Jimmy Stewart were starring on Broadway. The play had been introduced in 1944, enjoyed
a record run, and had gone on to become the iconic and highly successful 1950
film in which Mr. Stewart also starred and of which snippets can still be
regularly seen in more recent films like Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Field of Dreams, on television shows like The Simpsons, and now on YouTube.
During the interview Ms. Hayes mentioned that Harvey was a fantasy.
Said Ms. Hayes to Mr. Carson: “I believe going to see Harvey is more effective in getting children off marijuana than are the police. If you
get your own sweet illusion and hold it to your heart," she said, "you don’t need outside
help.”
Mrs. Chase wrote fourteen plays, three screenplays and two
children’s books and in all of her works emphasized the need for imagination to
counter the obstacles and fears we all face in the world as a means of
remaining sane. A fierce proponent of children’s theater, the playwright Mary
Coyle Chase espoused her views from Denver, Colorado where she lived all her life.
Harvey is the story of an imaginary six foot one-half inch
rabbit and his slightly tipsy middle-aged companion, Elwood P. Dowd. Elwood’s sister wants to put him away in a
sanitarium so that she can get on with her life. The irony is that her sanity becomes a question.
Said a critic of the time during which Harvey was produced, “(Harvey is) as much a satire of the world we
have made as it is a defense of those who prefer madness to what by mere
popular vote has come to be accepted as sanity.”
Mrs. Chase was well aware of the interest in mental health during the time that Harvey was written in the early 1940’s. Sigmund Freud had recently become of interest and thus there was a focus on psychiatry. Harvey is taken to Chumley’s Rest where treatments of hydrotherapy and a shot called Formula 977 similar to the notion of a lobotomy are considered.
Mary Chase herself struggled with the balance between
illusion and reality. She had grown up hearing Irish folk tales full of fantasy and had found solace in hearing them. She would continue to offer imagination as a panacea for all
the world’s ills. She dwelled on
creating scenarios in which laughter, love and beauty would result.
Perhaps as we deal with the opioid crisis today, we should
suggest that in all the rehabilitation centers the residents “Watch
Harvey.”
Mimi Pockross is currently writing a book about Mary Coyle
Chase and Harvey and lives in Denver, Colorado.
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