My beautiful daughter and grandson
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Jazz
So…. Caroline Leavitt wrote a gorgeous essay in Amy Ferris’ powerful anthology, SHADES OF BLUE about how Caroline felt when her son left for college: “Life without Max. The sorrow rides under the joy, like a burr stuck to us, or a rudder propelling us forward. I miss him in all his stages…” Her words made me cry. Because that’s how I feel about our beloved granddaughter Jazz, who lives in Bali, although I never had the words for it before. Yes, we have two incredible grandkids here in town. Yes, we see them every Friday. And of course we adore them. But we only see Jazz about every 6 months. And I often feel I miss her in all her stages. So, because of the clarity from Caroline’s words (thank you!) I will be going to Bali for Jazz’s 8th birthday on April 6. And I’m going to bring some of these cookies with her favorite book titles: Matilda, The BFG, Charlotte’s Web, etc. See you in a few, Jazz!
#AlchemyofHealing
How I love these gorgeous women who came to the second-ever Alchemy of Healing Workshop yesterday. We chanted in Sanskrit and Hebrew, wrote without fear, practiced gentle and restorative yoga with Ann Braden and made magic together. The colors of my mother’s paintings brightened by the hour. By day’s end we were sisters. #Howthelightgetsingetsin #amwriting#amteaching #alchemyofhealing
Take Note
Hollye Dexter, author and activist posted this. I’m a supporter of Women Against Gun Violence. Please support them, too. We must do something.#nomoreguns
Here is the link
Happy Thanksgiving
#GiveaBook
From Lita Weissman: Using #GiveaBook will get a book into the hands of a needy child via the generous folks at @PenguinRandomHouse. #GiveaBook
also suggests you talk about a book you loved as a child. I loved the Half Magic series by Edward Eager. Anyone else remember the (half) magical adventures of those kids?
#Beautiful
Tonight!
I’m going to this tonight. It promises to be amazing. Please come, too!
https://shadesofbluelalaunch.eventbrite.com/
#NotEverythingIsLost
Gate A-4 By Naomi Shihab Nye. “This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well— one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her . What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, shu-bid-uck, habibti? Stani schway, min fadlick, shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, who is picking you up? Let’s call him.”
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies— little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts— from her bag and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single traveler declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo— we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
Then the airline broke out free apple juice and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend— by now we were holding hands— had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate— once the crying of confusion stopped— seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
#YoureStillHere
Linda Schreyer 