My column broke. How wonderful it feels to have a byline again. Life is good, very, very good. Enough said. Oh, yeah,that's the name of the column, Enough Said.
Shorelinetimes.com
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Monday, February 27, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Bases loaded?
I am told my column is being launched tomorrow. I am very excited. It’s been a long time coming but I feel as if I am finally home where thoughts softly surface and words come easily.
I am thankful for another chance at bat. This is my season. What season is it for you?
I am thankful for another chance at bat. This is my season. What season is it for you?
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Not Mr. Campbell' s Soup
I read this Joseph Campbell quote on a blog recently.
We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to live the life that is waiting for us.
The blogger is a dear friend, someone I know ‘almost’ everything about, a woman who has immeasurably suffered pain and fear and sadness more profound than many of us could imagine. I have never met her.
I scrapped ‘my plan’ and within twenty-four hours, what was waiting, popped up; the deliverance of a twenty-five year old dream which has changed everything.
Who woulda’ thought?
We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to live the life that is waiting for us.
The blogger is a dear friend, someone I know ‘almost’ everything about, a woman who has immeasurably suffered pain and fear and sadness more profound than many of us could imagine. I have never met her.
I scrapped ‘my plan’ and within twenty-four hours, what was waiting, popped up; the deliverance of a twenty-five year old dream which has changed everything.
Who woulda’ thought?
Monday, February 6, 2012
...perchance to dream
What is your dream; the one thing deep inside your soul which brings you to tears because you want it so badly, and because it is so huge, you do not think you’re worthy of its splendor. Dreams, like campfire smoke, always seem to follow the one sitting closest.
Is your vision for something tangible, like winning the lottery, having a house on River Road, a BMW or the Job which will solve all money problems. Or is it for that which is impossible, the health of a dying loved one or your husband back?
After the death of both my parents I found two small bundles of love letters they had written to each while separated by WWII. From those special little gifts in white paper I met my parents for the first time. What I learned about both of them, they were younger than my own children are now, has caused me to redefine who they really were. That in itself has made an enormous impact on my memories, changing how I thought things were, to how they must have really been. But that is not what this is about. This is about their vision for each other, written down over 55 years ago.
After I finished reading the letters, and their impact settled in my heart, I realized that for my father, the nicest guy you’d ever want to know, every dream he wrote about in those letters, came true. The intimate thoughts and dreams he shared with my mother seem simple by definition now, but back then, just after the war in ‘45, with nothing between them but the future, everything seemed impossible. From finding a job, a place to live, to paying for the birth of their first child, monetarily, they were extremely compromised. Yet the promise he saw in the years ahead was inspiring.
This time of year, is a period of award shows and sports competitions the likes of Oscar and the Superbowl. It makes me think of little boys hoping to make ‘the team’, working toward playing pro-ball and dreaming about being a part of the biggest win. They were nothing more than little boys running down the field on Superbowl Sunday, little boys who wondered in their most private moments, were they worthy. When the statues for best in arts are awarded after red-carpet walks of anticipation, I see grown women, in mommy’s dress, with a hairbrush for a microphone, standing before their reflection in a dark window, and wishing on a star.
There are times though when thoughts of fame and fortune pale in comparison to the moments you stand at the foot of the bed of your sick baby listening for the next breath. Every dream you ever dreamed, and every imagined wish flies out the window on a pleading breeze of promising anything, even your own life, for that of your child.
But if most of what you have is okay, and your mind is able to soar above the clouds of daily struggle, what is your dream?
Speaking about the dream which washes my thoughts, and soaks into who I define myself to be, would be like wishing on a birthday candle and then telling what I wished for; they don’t come true if you tell. Some people say to write your dreams down on a piece of paper and place them under your pillow. My father wrote his down, they came true. I think I’ll try that. I will not tell you what they are but if you are reading this, you will know.
Is your vision for something tangible, like winning the lottery, having a house on River Road, a BMW or the Job which will solve all money problems. Or is it for that which is impossible, the health of a dying loved one or your husband back?
After the death of both my parents I found two small bundles of love letters they had written to each while separated by WWII. From those special little gifts in white paper I met my parents for the first time. What I learned about both of them, they were younger than my own children are now, has caused me to redefine who they really were. That in itself has made an enormous impact on my memories, changing how I thought things were, to how they must have really been. But that is not what this is about. This is about their vision for each other, written down over 55 years ago.
After I finished reading the letters, and their impact settled in my heart, I realized that for my father, the nicest guy you’d ever want to know, every dream he wrote about in those letters, came true. The intimate thoughts and dreams he shared with my mother seem simple by definition now, but back then, just after the war in ‘45, with nothing between them but the future, everything seemed impossible. From finding a job, a place to live, to paying for the birth of their first child, monetarily, they were extremely compromised. Yet the promise he saw in the years ahead was inspiring.
This time of year, is a period of award shows and sports competitions the likes of Oscar and the Superbowl. It makes me think of little boys hoping to make ‘the team’, working toward playing pro-ball and dreaming about being a part of the biggest win. They were nothing more than little boys running down the field on Superbowl Sunday, little boys who wondered in their most private moments, were they worthy. When the statues for best in arts are awarded after red-carpet walks of anticipation, I see grown women, in mommy’s dress, with a hairbrush for a microphone, standing before their reflection in a dark window, and wishing on a star.
There are times though when thoughts of fame and fortune pale in comparison to the moments you stand at the foot of the bed of your sick baby listening for the next breath. Every dream you ever dreamed, and every imagined wish flies out the window on a pleading breeze of promising anything, even your own life, for that of your child.
But if most of what you have is okay, and your mind is able to soar above the clouds of daily struggle, what is your dream?
Speaking about the dream which washes my thoughts, and soaks into who I define myself to be, would be like wishing on a birthday candle and then telling what I wished for; they don’t come true if you tell. Some people say to write your dreams down on a piece of paper and place them under your pillow. My father wrote his down, they came true. I think I’ll try that. I will not tell you what they are but if you are reading this, you will know.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Oh to be a FMESSN
I can’t believe I have been posting on this blog for over a year and a half. I’ve gone from project to project, idea to idea, on a merry-go-round of writing. I write a lot. I love it.
Betsy Lerner says, at least I think it’s her, “…don’t be an ambivalent writer”. My apologies to Ms. Lerner if I got it wrong, but I think she said, focus, damn it, stop jumping from project to project. But gee, I love writing all that stuff, essays, memoir, novels and short stories. I don't just sit down, start and never finish. They are all done.
Stephen King says, (I shall paraphrase), figure out what you write well and write it. I read once that he said he knew he’d never be able to write the ‘Great American Novel’ so he embraced horror because that’s what he wrote well. Whoa, Mr. King, back up Christine. He must have been very young and naïve when he said that because to me RITA HAYWORTH AND THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION is certainly an American classic, plus at least a dozen more, I won’t go into listing now.
So I shall continue to write. I’ll throw them all at the wall to see which ones stick. Like the EGOT’s - winners of an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony award, I would like to be a FMESSN, a writer in Fiction, Memoir, Essay, Short Story, and Non-Fiction. Don’t need an award though, publication is reward enough. I’ve written them all; watch out… here goes…wind-up…where the hell is that wall anyway?
So, did you finish your last project or, with your ass in the chair, did you think of the next one instead?
Betsy Lerner says, at least I think it’s her, “…don’t be an ambivalent writer”. My apologies to Ms. Lerner if I got it wrong, but I think she said, focus, damn it, stop jumping from project to project. But gee, I love writing all that stuff, essays, memoir, novels and short stories. I don't just sit down, start and never finish. They are all done.
Stephen King says, (I shall paraphrase), figure out what you write well and write it. I read once that he said he knew he’d never be able to write the ‘Great American Novel’ so he embraced horror because that’s what he wrote well. Whoa, Mr. King, back up Christine. He must have been very young and naïve when he said that because to me RITA HAYWORTH AND THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION is certainly an American classic, plus at least a dozen more, I won’t go into listing now.
So I shall continue to write. I’ll throw them all at the wall to see which ones stick. Like the EGOT’s - winners of an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony award, I would like to be a FMESSN, a writer in Fiction, Memoir, Essay, Short Story, and Non-Fiction. Don’t need an award though, publication is reward enough. I’ve written them all; watch out… here goes…wind-up…where the hell is that wall anyway?
So, did you finish your last project or, with your ass in the chair, did you think of the next one instead?
cha ching
Got a wedding coming up; checkbook is being hit hard.
Just found out we have another wedding coming up. Egads !
I am over-the-top happy that my beautiful, smart, daughters, (they take after me, but I have the humility) have found wonderful men with which to spend their lives but really girls, what’s wrong with elopement, I did it. Look where it got me. Shut up!
Funny how we didn’t want, or have, the money to spend on ourselves back then, and here we are, decades later, planning and spending for two weddings.
Hey… anybody got an extra advance kicking around so I can pay for these nuptials?
No..oh well back to writing.
Just found out we have another wedding coming up. Egads !
I am over-the-top happy that my beautiful, smart, daughters, (they take after me, but I have the humility) have found wonderful men with which to spend their lives but really girls, what’s wrong with elopement, I did it. Look where it got me. Shut up!
Funny how we didn’t want, or have, the money to spend on ourselves back then, and here we are, decades later, planning and spending for two weddings.
Hey… anybody got an extra advance kicking around so I can pay for these nuptials?
No..oh well back to writing.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Frustrated and Green
Two books done, working on a third. I say the second was my first but actually the resurrected first is more a second and now on to the third. Whew!
Hey, isn’t it great that Kathryn Stockett’s THE HELP has been so successful as a book and now as a movie. Saw the Oscar Nominations yesterday and almost cried for her success, her hanging in, her not giving up. I say ‘almost’ cried because I’m just a little green. May we all believe in our work as she did in hers.
I posted my frustration today on ‘The Shark’s’ website. I was trying to be funny. Am I bad?
Hey, isn’t it great that Kathryn Stockett’s THE HELP has been so successful as a book and now as a movie. Saw the Oscar Nominations yesterday and almost cried for her success, her hanging in, her not giving up. I say ‘almost’ cried because I’m just a little green. May we all believe in our work as she did in hers.
I posted my frustration today on ‘The Shark’s’ website. I was trying to be funny. Am I bad?
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