First the bad news...
On Saturday afternoon, my brother Dave took my folks to see his daughter's soccer game. That meant two 30-mile round trips because his daughter had already played that morning and it would have been too hard for my folks to see both games. It was hot on Saturday. Really hot. But more importantly, for those of you who don't know, my dad has Alzheimer's.
On the way to the game, Dave happened to notice that his odometer clicked over to 100,000 miles. You know, that tricky point when the warranty suddenly expires.
A few hours later, returning home with my folks, Dave's car broke down.
On a bridge.
The electrical system had completely shut down. He couldn't get windows opened, couldn't get doors unlocked. Imagine the setting for my longsuffering brother: sweltering heat, an 83 year-old father who has Alzheimer's and who likes to keep busy and "help," heavy traffic veering around the car (no shoulder on the bridge).
Poor Dave! Getting off the bridge required numerous California Highway Patrolmen to flag traffic, Cal-Trans to tow his car, then Triple AAA to meet him on the other side.
Afterward, my mother couldn't find her eyeglasses. After Dave searched through the car (now at a repair shop), Mom decided she must have left them in the California Highway Patrolman's car.
Another problem to solve for another day.
Dave and his wife are now off on a 3 week cruise and won't give us their itinerary. :)
On to some good news...
I found out this morning that For the Love of Dogs is a finalist in the general fiction genre of the 2009 Written Arts Awards.
And tomorrow is release date for Amish Peace! Already in the stores, from what I'm hearing.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday Times
This is a clip of a young man walking down a New York City street, seeing--really seeing--life with God in mind. Thanks to Tami for passing this on:
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Same Kind of Different as Me
Here's one of those rare books that both men and women will love:
It's a true story about Ron Hall, an up-and-coming art dealer in Dallas, Texas, and Denver Moore, a down-and-out homeless man from Louisiana. Their lives collide about mid-way through the book, leaving each man forever changed.
The book is very well written, alternating POV's with each chapter. As different as their "voices" are, both men have remarkable objectivity and clarity about themselves.
The heroine of the story, though, is Ron's wife, Deborah. That gal is just...solid.
Same Kind of Different as Me was published two or three years by Thomas Nelson Publishers. I missed it, somehow, but thanks to a recommendation by my friend Margaret, I picked it up from the library.
And now I want to buy a couple of copies for gifts! It's that good.
Have you read it? If so, what did you think?
It's a true story about Ron Hall, an up-and-coming art dealer in Dallas, Texas, and Denver Moore, a down-and-out homeless man from Louisiana. Their lives collide about mid-way through the book, leaving each man forever changed.
The book is very well written, alternating POV's with each chapter. As different as their "voices" are, both men have remarkable objectivity and clarity about themselves.
The heroine of the story, though, is Ron's wife, Deborah. That gal is just...solid.
Same Kind of Different as Me was published two or three years by Thomas Nelson Publishers. I missed it, somehow, but thanks to a recommendation by my friend Margaret, I picked it up from the library.
And now I want to buy a couple of copies for gifts! It's that good.
Have you read it? If so, what did you think?
Friday, August 28, 2009
TGIF: Which Cow Should I Vote For?
There's Anna...
And Alicia...
And Destynee...
But I think my favorite is frozen Kirsten...
And Alicia...
And Destynee...
But I think my favorite is frozen Kirsten...
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sticky Fingers
Last Thursday, I attended a book club at Claire's home, a very special woman who was once my 24-year-old son's preschool teacher. Claire has hosted me at her book clubs after every book of mine has been published. Amazingly supportive! I brought along my one little copy of Amish Peace to show the ladies and ended up reading one essay aloud.
And in the middle of reading it, I started to cry! They caught me off guard, those tears. A reminder of how deep the feelings go about your parents. About their aging.
So below is the essay I read. It's the Epilogue for Amish Peace, kind of like a book end. I thought I'd share it with you, my dear bleaders. (Did you know that blog+reader = bleader? I just learned that yesterday.) Anyway, let me know what you think.
Sticky Fingers
Before we can pray “Thy Kingdom come,” we must pray “My kingdom go.”
Amish Proverb
It is a blistering hot June evening and I am stuck in a traffic jam, retrieving my dad from his latest escapade after receiving a call from the police with his whereabouts. My dad is in the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s disease. He has a knack of finding ways to sneak out of his Board and Care facility, hitchhike with strangers, and end up in unusual places. Today, it is a Wal-Mart, thirty minutes away.
I feel enormously relieved that Dad is safe. These escapes have been frightening. For me, not for Dad. He is unconcerned about the panic he creates. He has already forgotten it. He doesn’t know my name, but he does like to point out which road I should take and when to turn, often encouraging me to sail through red lights. Dad’s directions are dangerous. He’s always wrong but never in doubt.
As my car crawls along the freeway, resentment starts bubbling over. My day has already been overloaded. My college kids had just arrived home for the summer and I was hoping to prepare a special family dinner. I hadn’t been able to snag any time to write that day; my mind was still preoccupied with a looming deadline. And now the day is wrapping up with Dad’s breakout.
The consuming requirements of my dad’s illness have been creating a growing frustration. Obligations for him always seem to come at the worst moment, forcing me to push aside my own family’s needs. My dad, who was always a delightful person, has become an enormous inconvenience. And as his disease marches forward, it’s only going to get worse.
My mind drifts to the Amish. When I visited Amish communities, I asked many how they handled a relative with Alzheimer’s. Without exception, they replied that they took care of their elderly at home. Granted, they have enormous families who live locally and share the caregiving role. Even with support, Alzheimer’s is no cakewalk. One Amish woman cared for her mother for seven years. Another was up in the night, changing bedsheets for her mother, every forty-five minutes for over a year. But I never detected a hint of self-pity as these women shared their stories with me. “It’s just what we do,” they said, as if that explained everything—their patience, their kindness, their dedication.
These women believe that all of life’s circumstances are given by God, good ones as well as hard ones. Even Alzheimer’s. They yield to things out of their control. They don’t struggle and fight against them, like I do.
So as my car idles in that traffic jam, I wonder how those two Amish women might handle this exasperating situation. I know, I know; they wouldn’t be in a car, they would be in a buggy. I mean the yielding part, the interior repose that works to align itself with the mind of Christ.
I can imagine them saying that it is my time to give back to my father for all he has done for me. That there are things I will be learning in this experience, marathon that it is. They would point out that it is an opportunity for me to develop and express a selfless love. And they would remind me that my father, even in his condition, matters to God. His soul is intact even as his mind is fading.
An entirely unexpected thing happens as I ponder the imaginary conversation of my Amish ladies, spouting their wisdom to me. Sweet memories pop into my mind of Dad in his better days . . . dropping by my house on a hot summer day with popsicles for my children, helping us paint after we remodeled the house. Or when, as a teen, he encouraged me to attend a private college although the tuition bill would create personal hardship for him.
As these memories displace my frustration, I feel the traffic-jam stress dissipate. In its place is a tender patience for Dad, just as he is. I actually feel calmer, more relaxed, more open to God’s way of thinking, though my circumstances have not changed one iota. The traffic is just as bad and the sun is even worse—it has intensified its glare directly onto my windshield like a magnifying glass. When I stop struggling against my circumstances, I actually feel benefits. What might seem on the surface as a hopeless surrender, white flag raised, becomes transformed into the powerful mystery of yielding.
If there is one thing I have learned through the writing of this book, it is that taking my sticky fingers off of the controls and yielding to God is a good thing, a wonderful thing. It’s not passive, it’s hard work! And it takes practice. But through the example of my Amish friends—whose lives are embroidered with daily reminders of their dependence on God—I am learning to trust God in a more meaningful way.
And on the heels of yielding comes the peace of Christ.
And in the middle of reading it, I started to cry! They caught me off guard, those tears. A reminder of how deep the feelings go about your parents. About their aging.
So below is the essay I read. It's the Epilogue for Amish Peace, kind of like a book end. I thought I'd share it with you, my dear bleaders. (Did you know that blog+reader = bleader? I just learned that yesterday.) Anyway, let me know what you think.
Sticky Fingers
Before we can pray “Thy Kingdom come,” we must pray “My kingdom go.”
Amish Proverb
It is a blistering hot June evening and I am stuck in a traffic jam, retrieving my dad from his latest escapade after receiving a call from the police with his whereabouts. My dad is in the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s disease. He has a knack of finding ways to sneak out of his Board and Care facility, hitchhike with strangers, and end up in unusual places. Today, it is a Wal-Mart, thirty minutes away.
I feel enormously relieved that Dad is safe. These escapes have been frightening. For me, not for Dad. He is unconcerned about the panic he creates. He has already forgotten it. He doesn’t know my name, but he does like to point out which road I should take and when to turn, often encouraging me to sail through red lights. Dad’s directions are dangerous. He’s always wrong but never in doubt.
As my car crawls along the freeway, resentment starts bubbling over. My day has already been overloaded. My college kids had just arrived home for the summer and I was hoping to prepare a special family dinner. I hadn’t been able to snag any time to write that day; my mind was still preoccupied with a looming deadline. And now the day is wrapping up with Dad’s breakout.
The consuming requirements of my dad’s illness have been creating a growing frustration. Obligations for him always seem to come at the worst moment, forcing me to push aside my own family’s needs. My dad, who was always a delightful person, has become an enormous inconvenience. And as his disease marches forward, it’s only going to get worse.
My mind drifts to the Amish. When I visited Amish communities, I asked many how they handled a relative with Alzheimer’s. Without exception, they replied that they took care of their elderly at home. Granted, they have enormous families who live locally and share the caregiving role. Even with support, Alzheimer’s is no cakewalk. One Amish woman cared for her mother for seven years. Another was up in the night, changing bedsheets for her mother, every forty-five minutes for over a year. But I never detected a hint of self-pity as these women shared their stories with me. “It’s just what we do,” they said, as if that explained everything—their patience, their kindness, their dedication.
These women believe that all of life’s circumstances are given by God, good ones as well as hard ones. Even Alzheimer’s. They yield to things out of their control. They don’t struggle and fight against them, like I do.
So as my car idles in that traffic jam, I wonder how those two Amish women might handle this exasperating situation. I know, I know; they wouldn’t be in a car, they would be in a buggy. I mean the yielding part, the interior repose that works to align itself with the mind of Christ.
I can imagine them saying that it is my time to give back to my father for all he has done for me. That there are things I will be learning in this experience, marathon that it is. They would point out that it is an opportunity for me to develop and express a selfless love. And they would remind me that my father, even in his condition, matters to God. His soul is intact even as his mind is fading.
An entirely unexpected thing happens as I ponder the imaginary conversation of my Amish ladies, spouting their wisdom to me. Sweet memories pop into my mind of Dad in his better days . . . dropping by my house on a hot summer day with popsicles for my children, helping us paint after we remodeled the house. Or when, as a teen, he encouraged me to attend a private college although the tuition bill would create personal hardship for him.
As these memories displace my frustration, I feel the traffic-jam stress dissipate. In its place is a tender patience for Dad, just as he is. I actually feel calmer, more relaxed, more open to God’s way of thinking, though my circumstances have not changed one iota. The traffic is just as bad and the sun is even worse—it has intensified its glare directly onto my windshield like a magnifying glass. When I stop struggling against my circumstances, I actually feel benefits. What might seem on the surface as a hopeless surrender, white flag raised, becomes transformed into the powerful mystery of yielding.
If there is one thing I have learned through the writing of this book, it is that taking my sticky fingers off of the controls and yielding to God is a good thing, a wonderful thing. It’s not passive, it’s hard work! And it takes practice. But through the example of my Amish friends—whose lives are embroidered with daily reminders of their dependence on God—I am learning to trust God in a more meaningful way.
And on the heels of yielding comes the peace of Christ.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
These Amish. They Keep Surprising Me!
Yesterday, I called one of my Amish friends. I had written a story about her in Amish Peace that might be excerpted in a national magazine and I needed to see if she had photographs of her quilts that I could use.
I felt a little uncomfortable asking her for such a favor. First of all, I wasn't sure she would even have photographs. Second of all, even if she did have some pictures of her quilts, the Amish frown on anything that would draw attention to an individual.
My policy with my Amish contacts is "full disclosure." I have a great respect for these people of faith and I don't want to "take" anything from them. Only to honor them.
As I was putting together Amish Peace, after I interviewed people and wrote their story, I sent a rough draft to each one for 1) permission and 2) corrections. There were times when an individual asked me to change names and identifying details to protect identity, so I did, but I still asked for written permission to use the stories.
It's a rather slow process with the Amish...they only use the U.S. Postal service and they have busy lives. It was an exercise in patience, to put it mildly.
When my friend answered the phone in her quilt shop, I explained why I needed the photographs and braced myself for a "no."
But yes! She did have photographs. English (non-Amish) come in and take photographs of her quilts and sometimes, she said, they mail the photos to her.
And yes, I could use them! "It's for a magazine, right?" she asked. "They come and go, not like books. I think it sounds fine! I'll send the pictures right out."
These Amish. They keep surprising me!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Last Day of Summer
Today marks a beginning and an end.
My son starts his senior year in high school and it's my last "first day" of K-12 school. I've had 22 first days of school since my oldest daughter began kindergarten!
Most things...I'll always miss. Making lunches, buying school supplies, double checking that everyone has new socks and shoes. (I don't know why but new socks for children are very important to me. It's symbolic that they have a mom who is looking after them.)
But I have to admit, there are some things I'll never miss. For one, spending a month's worth of groceries on donations to public schooling. Filling out endless and repetitive forms. Traffic jams at school in the morning. Running out of lunch bags. Back-to-school night where you have 1.4 minutes to gallop across a crowded campus in the dark to find a classroom, hear the teacher's quick intro, then the buzzer rings and you have to gallop to the other side of campus.
And every school we've ever been to has been under construction while my kids have attended. Even in Hong Kong! In fact, my son's high school gym was recently torn down. As the construction workers excavated, they have found (so far) 26 Indian bodies and a horse! So work has halted...indefinitely.
Kinda sad for my son--a basketball player--to have his last year, without a gym.
Enough of my whining!
Here's a little something to get your blood pumping and put a skip in your step on this Tuesday, the end of true summer.
My son starts his senior year in high school and it's my last "first day" of K-12 school. I've had 22 first days of school since my oldest daughter began kindergarten!
Most things...I'll always miss. Making lunches, buying school supplies, double checking that everyone has new socks and shoes. (I don't know why but new socks for children are very important to me. It's symbolic that they have a mom who is looking after them.)
But I have to admit, there are some things I'll never miss. For one, spending a month's worth of groceries on donations to public schooling. Filling out endless and repetitive forms. Traffic jams at school in the morning. Running out of lunch bags. Back-to-school night where you have 1.4 minutes to gallop across a crowded campus in the dark to find a classroom, hear the teacher's quick intro, then the buzzer rings and you have to gallop to the other side of campus.
And every school we've ever been to has been under construction while my kids have attended. Even in Hong Kong! In fact, my son's high school gym was recently torn down. As the construction workers excavated, they have found (so far) 26 Indian bodies and a horse! So work has halted...indefinitely.
Kinda sad for my son--a basketball player--to have his last year, without a gym.
Enough of my whining!
Here's a little something to get your blood pumping and put a skip in your step on this Tuesday, the end of true summer.
Monday, August 24, 2009
My Friend, Deb Coty
April 2006
A few years ago, I attended the Mt. Hermon Writers' Conference and was randomly assigned Deb Coty, a cute little tennis player from Florida, as a roommate.
Deb and I hit it off famously. We were both at that writing career point where we'd developed our skills through writing for magazines and were ready to try writing books. But just because we knew where we wanted to head...it didn't mean the industry was helping us out much. (The publishing world is not looking for you.) We were both experiencing our fair share of rejection. And I can't speak for Deb, but I remember feeling riddled with insecurity at that conference as I mingled with hot shot authors and editors and agents.
Anyway...after we returned to our homes, Deb and I kept up our friendship via e-mail.
A lot of e-mails.
We've sent each other our work-in-progress for a lookover or an edit, shared tips and ideas, grumbled together and encouraged each other along the way to hang in there. And we celebrated with each other as we signed our first book contracts.
With two other authors, Deb and I co-authored a book for writers, Grit for the Oyster, all via e-mail.
August 2009
Fast forward a few years. Today, Deb and I both have agents, a couple of books under our belt, we still feel as if we're just starting to make our way in this publishing gig, and we both are very, very grateful.
Deb has published a couple of books, most recently: Moms Need Chocolate (Regal)--a collection of humorous stories about motherhood. She's also launched herself as a popular national speaker. If you liked Erma Bombeck, well, Deb is funnier.
So...drumroll please...tomorrow, Deb is going to be on Daytime on NBC affiliates! Sometime between 10 and 11 in the morning, EST. She taped two weeks after angsting over her outfit for the entire week before that. Had trouble finding a cute outfit that fit a Size 2. (I know...I know. My heart is bleeding for her, too.)
It's so much fun to watch Deb's success. I am so proud of her! And meeting her during that rainy week in April at Mt. Hermon was no accident. It was one of those divinely orchestrated appointments.
So my DVR is already programmed. Watch it with me and cheer on my friend!
A few years ago, I attended the Mt. Hermon Writers' Conference and was randomly assigned Deb Coty, a cute little tennis player from Florida, as a roommate.
Deb and I hit it off famously. We were both at that writing career point where we'd developed our skills through writing for magazines and were ready to try writing books. But just because we knew where we wanted to head...it didn't mean the industry was helping us out much. (The publishing world is not looking for you.) We were both experiencing our fair share of rejection. And I can't speak for Deb, but I remember feeling riddled with insecurity at that conference as I mingled with hot shot authors and editors and agents.
Anyway...after we returned to our homes, Deb and I kept up our friendship via e-mail.
A lot of e-mails.
We've sent each other our work-in-progress for a lookover or an edit, shared tips and ideas, grumbled together and encouraged each other along the way to hang in there. And we celebrated with each other as we signed our first book contracts.
With two other authors, Deb and I co-authored a book for writers, Grit for the Oyster, all via e-mail.
August 2009
Fast forward a few years. Today, Deb and I both have agents, a couple of books under our belt, we still feel as if we're just starting to make our way in this publishing gig, and we both are very, very grateful.
Deb has published a couple of books, most recently: Moms Need Chocolate (Regal)--a collection of humorous stories about motherhood. She's also launched herself as a popular national speaker. If you liked Erma Bombeck, well, Deb is funnier.
So...drumroll please...tomorrow, Deb is going to be on Daytime on NBC affiliates! Sometime between 10 and 11 in the morning, EST. She taped two weeks after angsting over her outfit for the entire week before that. Had trouble finding a cute outfit that fit a Size 2. (I know...I know. My heart is bleeding for her, too.)
It's so much fun to watch Deb's success. I am so proud of her! And meeting her during that rainy week in April at Mt. Hermon was no accident. It was one of those divinely orchestrated appointments.
So my DVR is already programmed. Watch it with me and cheer on my friend!
Friday, August 21, 2009
TGIF Dancing Babies
Here's a way to start the weekend with a smile. My friend Stacey sent this funny clip about dancing babies.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Zig Zag Day
Yesterday was one of those zig zag days...
It started knowing that a friend of mine was having the memorial service for her father-in-law, who had Alzheimer's. This would be a day they would always remember.
Received an early morning phone call that one of my very best friends is moving from Texas to the San Jose area...about 30 minutes from me. WHEN does that ever happen? People move away...not closer!
Oh...happy day!
That morning, I had a wonderful call with Revell about the launching of Amish Peace and was told that 3/4's of its first print run was already ordered. And it hasn't even left the warehouse yet! The release date is still 10 days away.
My heart soared.
During the afternoon, I stood in a long, snake-like line to register my senior in high school for the last time (the last time! Remember...I've had four children! I've been standing in registration lines and writing countless checks to the school district for many, many years). I brought our guide dog puppy along with me. She was a big hit for all but my son who was mortified by the extra attention she received.
Oh well.
Anyway...in the middle of writing out a very expensive check for a parking spot (don't get me started about how exasperating it is to PAY for a parking spot...plus, the Parking Monitor Guy was a little scary...picture Dwight Schroot from The Office), my friend texted me to say that her husband just found out he did not get the job that he had wanted. And was well qualified for. And hoped for. And prayed for. He's been out of work for about 9 months now and it is becoming harder and harder for them to stay optimistic, revved up for the next interview, etc.
My heart ached.
Then I zoomed to the oral surgeon and actually received good news from him for once. They needed a test from my dentist so they called his office, and told me just to run over right now and get it taken care of...so I did (I really did run! They were right across the street)...which was a miracle! Two dreaded dentist trips knocked out in one visit.
A happy moment of rare dental convenience.
Then I got home and received an e-mail that another friend's dad had passed away a few hours earlier. He had been in hospice so it was not unexpected. But still, quite a significant day for this family.
As I cooked dinner, I wondered about all that they were doing as the day wore on. Calls to be made, details to be taken care of, plans to be thought out.
Before wrapping up the day, I checked Amish Peace on Amazon and discovered this info:
Popular in this category: (What's this?)
#8 in Books > Religion & Spirituality > Christianity > Protestantism > Amish
Now, remember, it is not even releasing until September 1st!
My heart soared again.
This day had everything in it but ordinariness.
It started knowing that a friend of mine was having the memorial service for her father-in-law, who had Alzheimer's. This would be a day they would always remember.
Received an early morning phone call that one of my very best friends is moving from Texas to the San Jose area...about 30 minutes from me. WHEN does that ever happen? People move away...not closer!
Oh...happy day!
That morning, I had a wonderful call with Revell about the launching of Amish Peace and was told that 3/4's of its first print run was already ordered. And it hasn't even left the warehouse yet! The release date is still 10 days away.
My heart soared.
During the afternoon, I stood in a long, snake-like line to register my senior in high school for the last time (the last time! Remember...I've had four children! I've been standing in registration lines and writing countless checks to the school district for many, many years). I brought our guide dog puppy along with me. She was a big hit for all but my son who was mortified by the extra attention she received.
Oh well.
Anyway...in the middle of writing out a very expensive check for a parking spot (don't get me started about how exasperating it is to PAY for a parking spot...plus, the Parking Monitor Guy was a little scary...picture Dwight Schroot from The Office), my friend texted me to say that her husband just found out he did not get the job that he had wanted. And was well qualified for. And hoped for. And prayed for. He's been out of work for about 9 months now and it is becoming harder and harder for them to stay optimistic, revved up for the next interview, etc.
My heart ached.
Then I zoomed to the oral surgeon and actually received good news from him for once. They needed a test from my dentist so they called his office, and told me just to run over right now and get it taken care of...so I did (I really did run! They were right across the street)...which was a miracle! Two dreaded dentist trips knocked out in one visit.
A happy moment of rare dental convenience.
Then I got home and received an e-mail that another friend's dad had passed away a few hours earlier. He had been in hospice so it was not unexpected. But still, quite a significant day for this family.
As I cooked dinner, I wondered about all that they were doing as the day wore on. Calls to be made, details to be taken care of, plans to be thought out.
Before wrapping up the day, I checked Amish Peace on Amazon and discovered this info:
Popular in this category: (What's this?)
#8 in Books > Religion & Spirituality > Christianity > Protestantism > Amish
Now, remember, it is not even releasing until September 1st!
My heart soared again.
This day had everything in it but ordinariness.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ah! The Garden in August
Good things are coming to the table, despite my resident gopher's appetite.
And yesterday, I noticed a little cottontail darting around the yard before he made a mad dash under the fence and into my garden! It's a wonder anything makes it to the table. It's like my yard has a sign that only wild animals can read: Nature's Sanctuary. Free Food. Organic, Too. Spread the word!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Security Mania
A few weeks ago, we toured my favorite city, Washington D.C. I hadn't been there since prior to 9/11, and felt stunned at the security measures that were part of people's everyday life.
When I was in college, I interned for a California senator. The freedom we had as college students--compared to today's interns--was substantial. We had the freedom to run back and forth between Senate offices, we had open invitations to receptions, we were able to hop on the carts that run through underground tunnels between the Capitol and the Senate/House of Representatives' office buildings.
I was able to attend the press conference where Ronald Reagan announced his bid for the presidency. Afterwards, he walked through an aisle and shook peoples' hands. I hadn't even put my hand out...I felt too shy! But he reached through the crowd and shook my hand. I'll never forget that.
Today, those everyday activities (everyday for D.C. style living) require going through metal detectors and security checks...very much like those at airports.
Is it possible we've gone too far? That we now live in a culture of security mania? Yes, there are nut cases out there, and Al-Qaida is out there. (I still can't figure out why Google Earth can't find Osama Bin Laden.) But the majority of people are not nut cases. They just want to see the Declaration of Independence in the National Archives. Doing so requires a wait of an hour or longer, plus metal detectors. Granted, reasonable precautions are...reasonable. But the rifle-toting police presence at the U.S. Capitol, the huge metal barriers that pop up at the entryway, the lightposts that were actually surveillance cameras...it felt a little like the Kremlin.
David Ignatius wrote a recent article in the Washington Post about this very thing. He feels that the fear we sense might be more ephemeral--a nameless, pervasive sense of danger--than real.
"Making trade offs isn't easy when it comes to security," he wrote. "But surely we have reached the point of diminishing returns with the fortress metality. The truth is, we all must live with vulnerability. It's a part of modern life."
"The hyper-security has added as much to public fear (and annoyance) as to public safety," he continues. "This September, as we mark the eighth anniversary of the September 11 attacks, let's resolve to dial the paranoia meter back a notch."
Source: The Washington Post, Tuesday, July 30, 2009
When I was in college, I interned for a California senator. The freedom we had as college students--compared to today's interns--was substantial. We had the freedom to run back and forth between Senate offices, we had open invitations to receptions, we were able to hop on the carts that run through underground tunnels between the Capitol and the Senate/House of Representatives' office buildings.
I was able to attend the press conference where Ronald Reagan announced his bid for the presidency. Afterwards, he walked through an aisle and shook peoples' hands. I hadn't even put my hand out...I felt too shy! But he reached through the crowd and shook my hand. I'll never forget that.
Today, those everyday activities (everyday for D.C. style living) require going through metal detectors and security checks...very much like those at airports.
Is it possible we've gone too far? That we now live in a culture of security mania? Yes, there are nut cases out there, and Al-Qaida is out there. (I still can't figure out why Google Earth can't find Osama Bin Laden.) But the majority of people are not nut cases. They just want to see the Declaration of Independence in the National Archives. Doing so requires a wait of an hour or longer, plus metal detectors. Granted, reasonable precautions are...reasonable. But the rifle-toting police presence at the U.S. Capitol, the huge metal barriers that pop up at the entryway, the lightposts that were actually surveillance cameras...it felt a little like the Kremlin.
David Ignatius wrote a recent article in the Washington Post about this very thing. He feels that the fear we sense might be more ephemeral--a nameless, pervasive sense of danger--than real.
"Making trade offs isn't easy when it comes to security," he wrote. "But surely we have reached the point of diminishing returns with the fortress metality. The truth is, we all must live with vulnerability. It's a part of modern life."
"The hyper-security has added as much to public fear (and annoyance) as to public safety," he continues. "This September, as we mark the eighth anniversary of the September 11 attacks, let's resolve to dial the paranoia meter back a notch."
Source: The Washington Post, Tuesday, July 30, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
A Top Ten Best-in-Life Day
This was exactly how I felt all day Friday, after the UPS guy delivered an overnight package of Amish Peace...hot off the press!
Its release date is September 1st...right around the corner. Just 14 days, 10 hours, 54 minutes away. Roughly.
Anyway, I received the package and then met some friends for a tennis practice.
Bad idea.
I played the worst tennis I've played in a long, long time. Just couldn't connect my head to my body. I kept wanting to do the happy dance! My kind friends (sorry, Stacey, Karen and Maria!) tolerated me. Sort of...there was a lot of eye rolling after my multiple double faults and they did seem rather eager to wrap it up for the day.
It's just that...I'm so excited about this book! Revell did a stunning job with the cover and lay-out (even the back cover, which I hadn't seen), and the book's message is Oh So Good. We have much to learn from the Amish about keeping life simple, slowing down, prioritizing important things, valuing others. And the experience of writing it--traveling to Amish communities, meeting very special people, capturing the depth of meaning in their culture--well, it was all amazing.
My husband came home that night with this big bouquet of flowers! That is not an everyday occurrence in our house. Worthy of a pix!
So all in all, even with my double faults in tennis, I think Friday will rank as one of my top ten Best-in-Life days.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
S.P.L.A.S.H.
Last Friday, I had the privilege--and it was a great privilege--to be a part of the women's group of Walnut Creek Presbyterian Church. They had read For the Love of Dogs and planned a summer evening, S.P.L.A.S.H. (sit poolside, laugh and share), to discuss the book and writing and all kinds of things. They even made cool things like this sign at the gate for Running Deer Ranch. And every women had a sticker on her back of a character on her back. As an ice breaker, they had to figure out who they were with yes/no questions. Oh! And someone--Lisa, the Women's Ministries' Director par excellence--had made dog bone cookies!
One woman, Monica, was kind enough to help me out with my guide dog in training puppy. Little Reyna (now 19 weeks old) added the "wow" effect but didn't read the manual about good manners at other people's homes. Monika was WONDERFUL with her.
(Don't be fooled by this angelic look. That little gal puppy has a wild streak.)
As an author, I felt so honored to meet these women of all ages, who had spent their summer reading my book. I type in a little laundry room on an ancient computer...and it's such a shot in the arm to actually connect to readers! It's my favorite part of writing.
Speaking, though...oh...it's so hard. I always leave an event thinking I could have done better. I feel as if I stumble and don't stay as focused and wish I could edit myself.
But meeting those women...oh, they are wonderful.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Mystery Food!
Look carefully at this hamburger. Can you tell what it is made of?
Look again. It's a cupcake! I found them at Whole Foods. Somebody in that bakery department has a serious creative streak. They can't keep these cupcakes in stock! My daughter saw a fellow walking out with a box full of hamburger cupcakes. Cleaned them out for the day.
So now these cupcakes have become a tourist item. People come in just to look at them. Well, I do, anyway.
Look again. It's a cupcake! I found them at Whole Foods. Somebody in that bakery department has a serious creative streak. They can't keep these cupcakes in stock! My daughter saw a fellow walking out with a box full of hamburger cupcakes. Cleaned them out for the day.
So now these cupcakes have become a tourist item. People come in just to look at them. Well, I do, anyway.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Finkelstein and Jesus
This story was sent to me by my friend Linda:
Jesus was wandering around Jerusalem when he decided that he really needed a new robe.
After looking around for a while, he saw a sign for Finkelstein, the Tailor..
So, he went in and made the necessary arrangements to have Finkelstein prepare a new robe for him.. A few days later, when the robe was finished, Jesus tried it on -- and it was a perfect fit!
He asked how much he owed.
Finkelstein brushed him off: "No, no, no, for the Son of God there's no charge!
However, may I ask for a small favor. Whenever you give a sermon, perhaps you could just mention that your nice new robe was made by Finkelstein, the Tailor?"
Jesus readily agreed and as promised, extolled the virtues of his Finkelstein robe whenever he spoke to the masses.
A few months later, while Jesus was again walking through Jerusalem , he happened to walk past Finkelstein's shop and noted a huge line of people waiting for Finkelstein's robes.
He pushed his way through the crowd to speak to him and as soon as Finkelstein spotted him he said: "Jesus, Jesus, look what you've done for my business!
Would you consider a partnership?"
"Certainly," replied Jesus.
"Jesus & Finkelstein it is."
"Oh, no, no," said Finkelstein.
"Finkelstein & Jesus. After all, I am the craftsman."
The two of them debated this for some time.
Their discussion was long and spirited, but ultimately fruitful -- and they finally came up with a mutually acceptable compromise.. A few days later, the new sign went up over Finkelstein's shop:
Jesus was wandering around Jerusalem when he decided that he really needed a new robe.
After looking around for a while, he saw a sign for Finkelstein, the Tailor..
So, he went in and made the necessary arrangements to have Finkelstein prepare a new robe for him.. A few days later, when the robe was finished, Jesus tried it on -- and it was a perfect fit!
He asked how much he owed.
Finkelstein brushed him off: "No, no, no, for the Son of God there's no charge!
However, may I ask for a small favor. Whenever you give a sermon, perhaps you could just mention that your nice new robe was made by Finkelstein, the Tailor?"
Jesus readily agreed and as promised, extolled the virtues of his Finkelstein robe whenever he spoke to the masses.
A few months later, while Jesus was again walking through Jerusalem , he happened to walk past Finkelstein's shop and noted a huge line of people waiting for Finkelstein's robes.
He pushed his way through the crowd to speak to him and as soon as Finkelstein spotted him he said: "Jesus, Jesus, look what you've done for my business!
Would you consider a partnership?"
"Certainly," replied Jesus.
"Jesus & Finkelstein it is."
"Oh, no, no," said Finkelstein.
"Finkelstein & Jesus. After all, I am the craftsman."
The two of them debated this for some time.
Their discussion was long and spirited, but ultimately fruitful -- and they finally came up with a mutually acceptable compromise.. A few days later, the new sign went up over Finkelstein's shop:
Monday, August 10, 2009
Julie & Julia
Have you seen Julie & Julia yet?
It was such a great movie! My husband and sons loved it, too. Despite the fact that my husband had some kind of digestive disturbance (blamed on my dinner) and a rude person kicked the back of my chair throughout the entire second half of the movie. The entire theatre was sold out, so even though we bought our tickets that afternoon and came back later that night, we sat nearly in the front row. Necks-in-a-crick kind of viewing.
If you have seen it, what was your favorite scene? My favorite was when Julia was practicing her onion chopping skills. She started work at Le Cordon Bleu and chopped an onion like a normal person chops an onion. The chefs left her in their dust. She went home and chopped up dozens of onions until she had it nailed! But her husband walked into the kitchen and his eyes started to tear, he couldn't breath.
One thing I appreciated about this story was that both Julia and Julie took a very long time to find their passion...and even then, it wasn't easy for them. Obstacles, disappointments, lengthy delays, and then...at the 11th hour...success! Kind of like this writing gig!
When the movie was finally over, I turned behind me to see who was the CAD...the brute!...who kicked my chair repeatedly throughout this wonderful movie!
It was very little old lady.
It was such a great movie! My husband and sons loved it, too. Despite the fact that my husband had some kind of digestive disturbance (blamed on my dinner) and a rude person kicked the back of my chair throughout the entire second half of the movie. The entire theatre was sold out, so even though we bought our tickets that afternoon and came back later that night, we sat nearly in the front row. Necks-in-a-crick kind of viewing.
If you have seen it, what was your favorite scene? My favorite was when Julia was practicing her onion chopping skills. She started work at Le Cordon Bleu and chopped an onion like a normal person chops an onion. The chefs left her in their dust. She went home and chopped up dozens of onions until she had it nailed! But her husband walked into the kitchen and his eyes started to tear, he couldn't breath.
One thing I appreciated about this story was that both Julia and Julie took a very long time to find their passion...and even then, it wasn't easy for them. Obstacles, disappointments, lengthy delays, and then...at the 11th hour...success! Kind of like this writing gig!
When the movie was finally over, I turned behind me to see who was the CAD...the brute!...who kicked my chair repeatedly throughout this wonderful movie!
It was very little old lady.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Galloping Down I-95
Looking back on our whirlwind East Coast trip, a good summary is that it wasn't really a vacation, more like a purposeful, educational, highly focused gallop down I-95.
We visited my daughter and her husband in Rhode Island, took in Boston's sights, got rained on, saw colleges, drove down to New Jersey to visit my aunt and uncle, got rained on, saw more colleges, and finished up in Washington D.C. More rain. More colleges.
I was allowed one 24-hour detour to an Old Order Amish farm to celebrate my birthday. LOVED it.
Also spent a few nights at the home of dear, dear friends in Baltimore.
But I do NOT recommend traveling with my husband, especially sightseeing in Washington D.C. He forgets to eat and thinks we should forget, too. Last Wednesday, we walked ten miles through the Mall in D.C. TEN MILES. Without any food. In the rain. Trying to absorb historical information at all of those sights. And that was not uncommon!
My son and I refer to those days as our Starvation Walks. I wanted to call them the Trail of Tears but my son, who is more PC than I am, told me I couldn't.
As you can tell, it was NOT a vacation. A great nine days...but not a vacation.
We visited my daughter and her husband in Rhode Island, took in Boston's sights, got rained on, saw colleges, drove down to New Jersey to visit my aunt and uncle, got rained on, saw more colleges, and finished up in Washington D.C. More rain. More colleges.
I was allowed one 24-hour detour to an Old Order Amish farm to celebrate my birthday. LOVED it.
Also spent a few nights at the home of dear, dear friends in Baltimore.
But I do NOT recommend traveling with my husband, especially sightseeing in Washington D.C. He forgets to eat and thinks we should forget, too. Last Wednesday, we walked ten miles through the Mall in D.C. TEN MILES. Without any food. In the rain. Trying to absorb historical information at all of those sights. And that was not uncommon!
My son and I refer to those days as our Starvation Walks. I wanted to call them the Trail of Tears but my son, who is more PC than I am, told me I couldn't.
As you can tell, it was NOT a vacation. A great nine days...but not a vacation.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Battle after Battle after Battle
Even though I was raised back east, I think I've become "Californian-ized" over the years. When we went through the major sight seeing events of Boston and Philadelphia and Washington D.C., I felt a little stunned by how much war was glorified. Monument after monument had been built to celebrate battles.
I used to love studying those sights, but it felt a wee bit violent to my 2009 sensibilities.
We just don't have much of that in California. Instead, we name big baseball parks after Silicon Valley companies. That's our kind of monument.
For example, this is the very spot of the Boston Massacre. Might not seem like much, but with a little help from Paul Revere's talent for spreading the news, this event kicked off the Revolutionary War:
Here's Paul Revere's house...
Now this was fun...great shopping!
I hadn't been to Washington D.C. since pre 9/11. The additional security measures felt...shocking. You can't go up those grand entry staircases to most of the Smithsonian buildings...you need to go through a tiny door on the side and walk through metal detectors.
The capitol was evacuated while we were there, so we might have felt the heightened security even...more heightened. Policemen with rifles were positioned all over the capitol building's porticos and porches.
Not sure if you can see them from this pix...those cops made us feel as jumpy as a cricket about taking pictures.
If those security measures were put in place partly as a deterrent...well, they worked for us. We were thoroughly intimidated.
Even still...even still...Washington D.C. is a remarkable, inspiring, worth-it-to-visit, breathtakingly beautiful city.
I used to love studying those sights, but it felt a wee bit violent to my 2009 sensibilities.
We just don't have much of that in California. Instead, we name big baseball parks after Silicon Valley companies. That's our kind of monument.
For example, this is the very spot of the Boston Massacre. Might not seem like much, but with a little help from Paul Revere's talent for spreading the news, this event kicked off the Revolutionary War:
Here's Paul Revere's house...
Now this was fun...great shopping!
I hadn't been to Washington D.C. since pre 9/11. The additional security measures felt...shocking. You can't go up those grand entry staircases to most of the Smithsonian buildings...you need to go through a tiny door on the side and walk through metal detectors.
The capitol was evacuated while we were there, so we might have felt the heightened security even...more heightened. Policemen with rifles were positioned all over the capitol building's porticos and porches.
Not sure if you can see them from this pix...those cops made us feel as jumpy as a cricket about taking pictures.
If those security measures were put in place partly as a deterrent...well, they worked for us. We were thoroughly intimidated.
Even still...even still...Washington D.C. is a remarkable, inspiring, worth-it-to-visit, breathtakingly beautiful city.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Here's An E-Mail I Won't Soon Forget
Last Friday, I checked my e-mail on my IPhone just after my plane landed back in Oakland.
Patiently waiting in my e-mail box was one of those WOW e-mails from my publisher:
Dear Suzanne,
I’m excited to inform you that Crossings Book Club, Doubleday Book Club, and Book of the Month Club 2 will be promoting your book Amish Peace. They will be printing a special hardcover edition and will be featuring your book in their October 2009 catalog.
I'm still a little dazed!
Amish Peace releases on September 1st. 25 Days to go!
Patiently waiting in my e-mail box was one of those WOW e-mails from my publisher:
Dear Suzanne,
I’m excited to inform you that Crossings Book Club, Doubleday Book Club, and Book of the Month Club 2 will be promoting your book Amish Peace. They will be printing a special hardcover edition and will be featuring your book in their October 2009 catalog.
I'm still a little dazed!
Amish Peace releases on September 1st. 25 Days to go!
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Rhode Island Rocks
We had a great time in Providence, Rhode Island visiting my daughter and son-in-law. They moved there just a few months ago and are settling into Northeast living. Loved spending time with them, seeing where they are live and work. Now, when I call my daughter, I can picture her in her home!
I'm now an official fan of Rhode Island. Providence is a beautiful little city...its gotten a great face lift. I remember it looking more industrial, with smoke pipes and tired old buildings. No longer! It's tres chic.
One evening, we went to a very upscale restaurant called Il Forno (Italian for The Oven).
Seated inside was one of the contestants for The Next Food Network Star, Katie Cavuto! She's the nutritionist who had the tagline of "Green Cuisine." I mustered up my courage and went up to her...and am so glad I did!
Turns out that Katie got cut the first year she tried out, then wasn't going to try out again the following year because she was getting married, but Food Network let her skip the preliminary process.
So...this year...Katie made it into the Top Ten, and lasted all the way down to the Top Six, which is darn impressive. She said that they taped hundreds of hours for the nine episodes that we see on television.
Anyway, we exchanged business cards and took pix and hugged and now we're BFFs!
Katie is charming and very "real." And if you saw Sunday night's finale, did you notice how audience applause spiked when she walked out? Spiked! Bet she'll be a fan favorite and come back for her own show.
Maybe she'll want me to be her sous chef.
I'm now an official fan of Rhode Island. Providence is a beautiful little city...its gotten a great face lift. I remember it looking more industrial, with smoke pipes and tired old buildings. No longer! It's tres chic.
One evening, we went to a very upscale restaurant called Il Forno (Italian for The Oven).
Seated inside was one of the contestants for The Next Food Network Star, Katie Cavuto! She's the nutritionist who had the tagline of "Green Cuisine." I mustered up my courage and went up to her...and am so glad I did! Turns out that Katie got cut the first year she tried out, then wasn't going to try out again the following year because she was getting married, but Food Network let her skip the preliminary process.
So...this year...Katie made it into the Top Ten, and lasted all the way down to the Top Six, which is darn impressive. She said that they taped hundreds of hours for the nine episodes that we see on television.
Anyway, we exchanged business cards and took pix and hugged and now we're BFFs!
Katie is charming and very "real." And if you saw Sunday night's finale, did you notice how audience applause spiked when she walked out? Spiked! Bet she'll be a fan favorite and come back for her own show.
Maybe she'll want me to be her sous chef.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Airline Travel
Just got back from a trip to the East Coast. We flew Jet Blue for the first time, which I would definitely recommend to others. More legroom, nice little individual TVs, good snacks.
But don't sit in the back of the plane. That's where the less-than-appealing seat mates are put.
On the way there, I was seated across the aisle from the World's Grossest Man. I kid you not...he had no awareness of how he affected others. Picture the guy from the TV show 30 Rock (the overweight writer with the baseball cap and giant glasses)...picture him with Swine flu. Coughing and sniffing and taking off his shoes. Even my husband, who is not as finicky as I am, agreed that this guy deserved the WGM title. And the flight was delayed because there were storms, so what should have been 5 1/2 hours was nearly 8. Oh joy.
On the way back, I sat in front of the World's Unhappiest Toddler. That little girl screamed...and I mean SCREAMED...for 5 1/2 solid hours. I think her brother kept jabbing at her or doing something that made her mad. That little gal had some pipes! The mother stood up and apologized to everyone.
Airline travel just ain't what it used to be. I guess the one responsibility a plane has is to get you from Point A to Point B safely. But wow...it is not fun.
But don't sit in the back of the plane. That's where the less-than-appealing seat mates are put.
On the way there, I was seated across the aisle from the World's Grossest Man. I kid you not...he had no awareness of how he affected others. Picture the guy from the TV show 30 Rock (the overweight writer with the baseball cap and giant glasses)...picture him with Swine flu. Coughing and sniffing and taking off his shoes. Even my husband, who is not as finicky as I am, agreed that this guy deserved the WGM title. And the flight was delayed because there were storms, so what should have been 5 1/2 hours was nearly 8. Oh joy.
On the way back, I sat in front of the World's Unhappiest Toddler. That little girl screamed...and I mean SCREAMED...for 5 1/2 solid hours. I think her brother kept jabbing at her or doing something that made her mad. That little gal had some pipes! The mother stood up and apologized to everyone.
Airline travel just ain't what it used to be. I guess the one responsibility a plane has is to get you from Point A to Point B safely. But wow...it is not fun.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
TGIF
This came from my friend, Dana. Too good!
A minister delivered a sermon in ten minutes one Sunday morning, which was about half the usual length of his sermons. He explained, "I regret to inform you that my dog, who is very fond of eating paper, ate that portion of my sermon which I was unable to deliver this morning."
After the service, a visitor from another church shook hands with the preacher and said, "Pastor,if that dog of yours has any pups,I want one."
A minister delivered a sermon in ten minutes one Sunday morning, which was about half the usual length of his sermons. He explained, "I regret to inform you that my dog, who is very fond of eating paper, ate that portion of my sermon which I was unable to deliver this morning."
After the service, a visitor from another church shook hands with the preacher and said, "Pastor,if that dog of yours has any pups,I want one."
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