Choices

Treatment Not Jail; Incarceration Will Fail

2012-02-10T12:53:00.000-08:00

I participated in my very first press conference yesterday – about the failure of the jail system in treating the mentally ill. The system doesn’t have the training, experience, or facilities to treat the mentally ill. They belong in hospitals or other health care facilities.

Nancy Speer whose son Ben Warren has been incarcerated in the Santa Barbara jail for eleven months organized the event and spoke out in front of the jail about her son’s treatment and condition – he supposedly has self-mutilated himself and has refused food and water. On two occasions he was sent to a local hospital’s psych ward and rehydrated but not medicated and brought back to psychological balance. Now he is back in jail in a safety cell naked and only covered with a light quilt. Neither his mother nor his psychiatrist is allowed to visit him.

Nancy Speer speaking yesterday

in front of the Santa Barbara jail

Nancy then introduced me. However, I could not speak from my experience with the inhumane treatment of the mentally ill in the jail system. Paul was jailed one time for two days, and we were lucky to find a sympathetic DA who got a judge to let him go on probation and the promise that he’d take his meds - whether or not he took them is a whole other story told in my memoir Leaving the Hall Light On.

Instead I spoke about how we couldn’t get him hospitalized unless he went of his own accord. When we called the police to take him to hospital Paul acted so normal they didn’t believe he fit the criteria of being a danger to himself or to others. I feel that is a failure of our correctional system as well. They need education about how to deal with the mentally ill. They need to learn that many mentally ill people are masters at hiding behind a normal disguise. They need to learn as I have learned that mentally illness can be very deadly.

Others also spoke and their stories were horrendous: a long-time parole officer told about how a person in a straight jacket was shoved into her office for her to deal with. A woman with bipolar disorder spoke about her treatment in the “hole,” where she was shackled naked to her bed and left to play with her urine.

The theme of the conference was reiterated over and over again:

Treatment not jail

Incarceration will fail

So even though I almost turned back because the traffic getting out of Los Angeles yesterday morning, even after the rush hour, was terrible, I’m glad I went. It fit in with my goal since Paul’s death: to help erase the stigma of mental illness and suicide through raising awareness and education in hopes of saving lives.

Ben Warren needs the right professionals to help keep him alive. Hopefully this press conference will get the authorities to pay attention and make some badly needed changes.

Apple problems and woes

2012-02-08T10:33:00.000-08:00

Technology can be wonderful, but unfortunately it can be frustrating as well. I’m not complaining; I’m fortunate to have a lot of it in my life. I just wish it were simpler to understand and maintain.

I was so excited to get a new iPhone because my old phone was giving me all sorts of troubles. Yet now I wonder if I should have stuck with my old one since the new phone is behaving much worse – at least so far. My major problem has to do with my calendar. After I moved to ICloud, I couldn’t see all my events on my phone. In fact, I couldn’t see them on my computer screen either. It was crazy making.

After talking to five Apple technical experts yesterday and spending about three hours doing so, my calendar is working properly, but now my email isn’t. I suspect it’s a related problem that happened after the final merge last night. Luckily the last expert I spoke to sent me an email with his private extension. Hopefully I’ll get to speak with him soon, and he’ll be the problem-solving hero he claims to be.

I’ve also gone to two One-to-One private trainings at my local Apple store in the last couple of weeks. That is also a trip. The people I spoke to are extremely knowledgeable, but they have trouble translating their knowledge and communicating it to the ordinary user like me. I’ve found that I have lots to learn about the basics – even after being an Apple user for years and years, but it is just grueling to get the information I need out of the experts.

And for sure I cannot relate to this new iCloud system. I loved MobileMe because it allowed me to store documents online and move them easily between my computers or use them from another computer at a remote site, but alas, iCloud doesn’t have that facility. So now I wonder why I’m bothering to use it at all. Well, I hear iCloud may go through a major change in June, so maybe all will be fixed to my liking – at least I can hope, can’t I?

Sunday sunset

2012-02-06T15:20:00.000-08:00

Since my skin has stopped liking the sun, I've had to find ways to either exercise indoors or stay on the shady side of the street.

So, I decided to take my big long walk to our beach late yesterday afternoon, and I was rewarded with some beautiful sunset views. Opposite was a full moon. It was dark by the time I got home, but no worries. I know I'll venture out at that time of day again. I was also amazed at how many people were out watching the sunset from our walking strand and the Manhattan Beach pier.

Besides I got to try out my new cell phone's camera. What do you think?

Happy 75th birthday to my husband, Bob

2012-02-04T12:57:00.000-08:00

Bob's high school days, mid 1950s

Bob at Vigeland Park, Oslo, August 2011

So, why on Bob's 75th birthday, do I feel so old? Maybe it has to do with the library of memories from all the years we've been together that I carry around with me.

The first thing that attracted me to Bob happened way back in 1963. I had just started working at TRW (precursor to Northrop Grumman) in a writing and editing group that helped engineers with their reports and proposals. One day I was sitting in my little half-walled cubby hole that didn’t have any doors and heard someone speaking to the woman who sat in the cubby hole next to mine. I found the voice very distinctive and articulate. Plus, the man speaking never shut up – why am I not surprised? I had never heard this voice before so I had to get up and go out into the common area and take a peek at who was speaking. That’s how I got my first glimpse of a tall thin man with blond hair cut in a buzz and blue eyes pretty much hidden behind black-rimmed glasses. That was it. I didn’t see him again for another three years, and the rest is history.

Our wedding day, May 28, 1970

I didn’t write a birthday poem for him this year. Here’s the one I wrote for his 65^th.

A 65^th Birthday Poem for Bob

It seems like yesterday that we first fell in love

You were focused, driven, so sure of yourself

In your crisp white shirts, wild ties

And well-worn brown or black shoes

The only shoes you owned.

Your straw blonde hair was neatly buzzed

Your passionate blue eyes

Well hidden behind black rimmed glasses.

You don’t look a lot different from those days

Over thirty-five years ago

Except for a few lines in your face,

And a waist that has grown an inch or two.

You still even have the buzz.

You are a true Renaissance man.

Though your forte is science and mathematics,

You can recite a Shakespearean sonnet at the drop of a hat,

Quote Goethe’s couplets to a room filled with a hundred engineers.

Play guitar while belting out

Honky Tonk Woman or The House of the Rising Sun.

And spend your leisure time at

Racket ball, golf, Sea Haven Towers, Ultra Yatzee, solitaire

And your daily and two Sunday crossword puzzles.

Nothing happens in the morning until the crossword is done.

Those who know you will admit

You can be a tad impatient

Especially behind the wheel.

You would rather drive through a maze of side streets

Than wait for a traffic light.

Every chance you get you wield your lead foot

Like a weapon of mass destruction.

Ignoring my protests and cries of whiplash.

You’ll just speed on,

Pointing out other lawbreakers along the way.

You were a hard guy to reel in

But, once I did you were truly committed

To me, your sons and even your mother-in-law.

You fell in love with our boys from birth

Never shying away from changing a diaper

I can still picture you carrying them around on your back

Telling them in your teacherly way about the world around them

Or going on and on at the dinner table about one subject or another

Until they had to escape squealing, “He’s lecturing again.”

And before you want to escape from this little lecture

One last thought:

Throughout the bumpy E ride of our years together

You have been my rock, my anchor, my strength

You’ve worked hard for your 65 years.

So, I raise my glass to you, my love

And, wish you many, many more happy birthdays

Good health and a lot more fun in the years to come.

I love you.

Writing resolutions check-in

2012-02-02T15:18:00.000-08:00

Besides writing I do participate in other creative activities - like seeing a wonderful art exhibit at LACMA called In Wonderland.

This painting is by Frieda Khalo.

Time to revisit my 2012 writing resolutions (posted on January 1, 2012) and report how I’ve been doing.

First for the things I’ve accomplished.

I participated in the January River of Stones project, writing a small stone every day of the month.
I finished reading Doreen Cox’ Adventures in Mother Sitting and wrote and posted reviews for it. I overachieved in the review category, by finally writing and posting a review of Laura Mays Hoopes memoir Breaking the Spiral Ceiling: An American Woman Becomes A DNA Scientist.
And I’m happy to report that my novel writing has gone very well. I’m writing a bit more than the one thousand words a week that was my commitment.
I’m also writing a poem a week and writing my regular posts for NaturallySavvy and PsychAlive
One of my best accomplishments of the month was finally, with the help of Ben and Marissa, my son and daughter-in-law, posting a three-minute interview up on Marla Miller’s Women Over 45 Speak website. They directed and produced the video perfectly.

However, I haven’t been so successful in a few other areas.

I’ve fallen behind on posting every week on my Facebook poetry group pages, Poetry Pact and Poets. Writers, Photographers, Musicians, Artists ~ Networking Group – that is not to say I haven’t post at all. I’m averaging one every other week.
But, I haven’t entered any contests or calls for publication yet; though just this day I submitted a piece for the Seven Sentences blog. Does that count? No, probably not.
Also, I’m still weak in keeping up with other blogs – not that I’ve done no reading and commenting, just that I haven’t done enough.

So, not too bad for the first month. The main thing is that I’m writing and blogging a lot. And it’s all good.

The last January 2012 small stones

2012-01-31T13:57:00.000-08:00

January 22

Dark gray clouds cover the roaring waves. I wonder why the surfers aren't riding them instead of taking them them one by one lying down.

January 23

Kristi's photo was posted on Putting a Face on Suicide today. She was just 19 when she took her life. I wish I could share her huge eyes, her smooth skin, her friendly closed-mouth smile with you. She was beauty. And even that couldn't save her from a drug addiction that sucked the life out of her.

January 24

I met an old friend this morning and within five minutes of talking she was in tears. She told me about her mentally ill daughter in yet another healing institution. She's been in nine since she was thirteen; she is twenty now. I hope my writing will inspire my friend to take good care of herself. Her daughter will have to find her own way.

January 25

I was so proud of myself last evening for being an advocate in getting a mentally ill young man some help. I was told at ten in the evening that he would be in good hands and not to worry. But this morning the news is that he is still in harm's way, in a jail cell naked wrapped in a quilt and not eating and drinking, and I don't know what else I can do about it. I have never felt so frustrated. Unfortunately this story is bringing back bad memories of my son's behavior and how he was treated during his bipolar days.

January 26

Every time I am in Pilates class I hear Jeffery's mantra: shoulders in your back pockets, slight curve in the small of your back, sway your heel out just a bit, feel yourself getting taller with each breath. And you know what? At that moment, I do feel myself getting taller. But in the end, I'm still as short as I ever was. Pilates is a great stretch and mobility and agility exercise, but it's not going to make this vertically challenged person grow.

January 27

Every day I wake up stiff and slow, yet move with vigor again by the end of my morning workout. Then after five or six hours at my computer, my old lady stiffness returns. Ginger's massage helped yesterday. I wish I could afford one everyday.

January 28

I walk through the women's surrealistic art exhibit and stop in awe in front of the wedding portrait of Frieda Khalo and Diego Rivera. She made him seem a giant next to her. Yet she was a giant among the women artists of her time. This was a woman who died much too soon.

January 29

I watched a video called "Get in Line (Behind Tricia)" while sitting at the bar at LACMA. The action by seventeen dancers dressed in dirty white hoody robes was slow. They maneuvered long wooden poles into triangular, rectangular, and square configurations over and over again. When they finished, they set the poles down on the wooden floor, took off their robes, and walked in a line dressed in tangerine-colored togas. I'm lucky that I didn't have to see all eight hours of it.

January 30

There she is again with another pair of workout shoes. Today they are dark gray with a red Nike swish, red laces, and white soles. This pair perfectly accentuates her little workout short-shorts in an abstract print of blacks, lime greens and reds. This woman's closet must have more shoes than Imelda Marcos'. I've seen her in a dozen pairs of workout shoes at least.

January 31

In celebration of my husband's success, I had some sips of wine last night after a 30-day hiatus. It was a nice red Syrah. It felt smooth and dry going down, but as usual, it didn't give me a buzz.

Writing Your Way Home

A River of Stones

Review of Breaking Through the Spiral Ceiling by Laura L. Mays Hoopes

2012-01-31T10:50:00.000-08:00

I can definitely relate to Laura L. Mays Hoopes memoir, Breaking the Spiral Ceiling: An American Woman Becomes A DNA Scientist (March 2011). She and I grew up at the same time, and we both entered careers in the scientific and engineering world. We also both experienced the inequities between men and women that abounded in that world. Though I am not a trained scientist as Laura (Laura got her Ph.D from Yale), I worked as a technical writer, editor and proposal manager in the aerospace industry and trained many scientists and engineers to write.

However, Laura is not a scientist who needs writing help. Her memoir is easy to read even for non-scientists like myself, and her voice is humorous and friendly. Not only does she tell the struggles of moving up the spiral ladder in her scientific world, she shares her life as a wife and mother. During that time if woman wanted to make it in the “man’s world,” she had to prove herself way more than her male colleagues. Plus, she couldn’t let her life outside of work interfere or take precedence over her professional endeavors. Laura’s book is so inspiring, because she shows how she was able to do it all. In fact, she is still doing it as a professor at Pomona College in Claremont, California.

Unfortunately, many professional women are still struggling with inequities in the workplace. For those who are I recommend the lessons and inspiration in this book.

Her Bio

Laura L. Mays Hoopes is a biologist turned creative writer. She is the Halstead-Bent Professor of Biology and Molecular Biology at Pomona College in Claremont, CA. In June, 2009 she received a Creative Writing Certificate with Distinction from UCLA Extension. Laura has written Breaking Through the Spiral Ceiling, a memoir about growing up in the Eisenhower years, being recruited to science by Sputnik, falling in love with DNA, and crashing into gender-barriers in molecular biology. She is working on two novels and a biography of two prominent women in molecular biology, Joan Steitz and Jennifer Doudna. Her shorter work has beenCeiling published in The Chaffin Journal, North Carolina Literary Review, Christian Science Monitor, Rose City Sisters, The Scientist, AWIS Magazine, and other magazines and newspapers. One of her stories was a finalist for Story of the Year on Rose City Sisters online anthology in 2009. A poem about Chopin came out in March, 2009 in Chopin with Cherries anthology (Lulu availability). Laura enjoys the Inland Empire California Writers Club where she is President and Editor of the Fresh Ink newsletter. Please visit her website.

Women Over 45 Speak

2012-01-30T17:11:00.000-08:00

Marla Miller's website Women Over 45 Speak posted a three-minute video of me speaking about how I reinvented myself after the age of seventy.

Please take a look. And if you're a woman over forty-five, go over to her website and make a video of yourself. The directions are right there on her site.

Review of Adventures in Mother-Sitting by Doreen Cox

2012-01-25T11:58:00.000-08:00

Adventures in Mother-Sitting by Doreen Cox is truly a love story. No, not a love story in the boy-girl romantic sense but a story about the love between a mother and a daughter.

Author Doreen Cox shares her experience as a "care bear" during the last three years of her mother's life and how she learned to live with her mother's slow progression from a viable, interesting, lovable, and happy woman to a woman overcome by dementia unable to handle even her most basic bodily needs. And Ms. Cox doesn't shirk away from those details. She repeatedly quotes her mother's mantra:
"You just do what you have to do."

Ms. Cox starts out this story as her mother's daughter and friend and roommate. She gradually becomes her care bear and then her "mommy." Though her mother always could articulate a thank you and big toothless smile for everything Ms. Cox did for her, she became like a child thanking her mommy.

Ms. Cox gave up her as a career group counselor at an alternative school for at-risk and SED high school students to care for her mother, and she never regretted it. She took on all the necessary tasks that were required to keep her mother fed, medicated, and clean and she never shied away from them. Even after her mother's death, she says: "The desire in me to take care of Mother to her end-time had been very strong, a `calling,' I had termed it. My `calling' included the care of Mother's body to its end."

I am in awe of Ms. Cox' loving and un-resentful care of her mother. She never asked the question on many other's minds: "How could anyone do this day after day, night after night, for so long?"
Her loving heart and soul just wouldn't allow it.

I recommend this book for anyone dealing with dementia. It definitely is a lesson in love.

The Old Town Music Hall, El Segundo, CA

2012-01-23T15:19:00.000-08:00

Our friends Lisa and David came over to our part of the city last Saturday night, but before they did, they did a little research about what we should do for our “play-date.”

Well, I’m pleased to tell you that they found a venue I had kind of heard of, but never gave a second thought. That is so sad, because the Old Town Music Hall, home of the Mighty Wurlitzer Pipe Organ, in El Segundo, CA is a real gem.

We thought we were only going to see the 1952 film, “Singing in the Rain,” but were we in for a surprise. Bill Field the theater owner strolled down the aisle in his wheel chair, transferred himself to the organ’s seat, and played it for us for about an hour. His tunes demonstrated the capabilities of the organ’s pipes and percussion instruments and accompanied our sing along and an old Monty Banks silent film.

Here’s what the music hall website has to say about this great old venue:

Old Town Music Hall is a concept that started in 1958 by Bill Coffman and Bill Field with the purchase of the Mighty Wurlitzer Pipe Organ from the Fox West Coast Theater in Long Beach CA. This concept became a reality in 1960 when this fully restored instrument was installed in a small studio in Los Angeles for the purpose of presenting organ concerts and silent films to public and private audiences. Due to inadequate space the instrument was dismantled and stored. In November 1968, the search for a new and suitable location resulted in its present home of 188 seats in the original El Segundo State Theater at 140 Richmond Street in El Segundo California.

The instrument consists of four manuals and twenty-two sets of pipes. The console has 260 stop tablets plus an array of controls and pedals. The console is connected to a Devtronix Computer thereby controlling over 2000 pipes plus many moving percussive instruments and effects.

I took this on Saturday Night

The pipe tonal sources include the following pipe sounds: Vox Humana, Concert Flute, Viol D’Orchestre, Viol Celeste, Salicional, Clarinet, French Horn, Oboe Horn, Tibia Clausa (2), Kinura, Orchestral Oboe, Quintadena, Tuba, English Post Horn, Brass Saxaphone, Brass Trumpet, Gamba, Gamba Celeste, Horn Diapason, Diaphonic Diapason, and Krumet.

Percussion instruments include: Piano, Marimba, Xylophone, Glockenspiel, Sleigh Bells, Vibraharp (2), English Handbells and Chimes. A rhythm trap section includes: Bass Drum, Kettle Drum, Cymbal, Crash Cymbal, Snare Drum, Tamborine, Castanets, Tom-Tom, Chinese Block and Triangle. A sound effect assembly includes: Siren, Car Horn, Bird, Whistle, Surf, Fire Gong, Boat Whistle, Telephone Bell, Horses Hoof, Chinese Gong, and Police Whistle.

The entire system is air-powered from a 10 hp. Spencer Turbine Orgoblo. This source of wind pressure runs the entire mechanical system as well as playing the pipes. The organ requires constant maintenance – it is a mechanical nightmare! But… there is no sound as great as the theater organ emanating from any other instrument.

So if you live in Southern California or plan to visit here, I recommend going over. You’ll see an old movie and be quite entertained by Bill’s organ music. “Singing in the Rain” turned out to be a wonderful surprise as well – what dancing! – but with Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, and a very cute young Debbie Reynolds in it, how could it be otherwise?

More January small stones

2012-01-21T12:40:00.000-08:00

January small stone month is almost over. I've managed to write one almost every day, only having to backtrack twice. Now I'm thinking of continuing the practice of paying attention and writing down what I pay attention to throughout the year.

Here are the stones I've written since I last posted them on January 9. For more information about this practice visit Fiona Robyn's website Writing Our Way Home.

January 10
My young friend sat at the dining room table and looked through the book of her baby pictures I had made for her. She smiled, she chuckled, she complimented the rad style she had even then. I've known this girl since she was 18 months old. She is now 18.

January 11

I'm at Putting a Face on Suicide again today, still wondering what goes through such beautiful young minds that tells them to kill themselves. These people are 14, 16, 19, 22 years old and have so much to live for. We must find a way to save these precious ones who should be so full of life.

January 12

I'm racing around today like a whirling dervish. First a workout, next grocery shopping, a quick breakfast, a shower, then get dressed, make the bed, straighten up the rest of the house, and now I'm here at my desk with only two and a half hours to work before I make our lunch salad and the guests arrive. I am exhausted already. I need to drink my tea slowly and take a good deep breath.

January 13

Ben and Marissa made me go over my video lines over and over until I said them perfectly. I got so frustrated I even said oh, shit at one point which broke up the room. But after about a half hour of starts and stops I finally finished with the short three-minute piece. I certainly would never want to be an actor. Those guys have to memorize their lines every day and know how to say them perfectly. That is definitely not a profession for me.

January 14

I felt the chill down my backside from my waist to my calves as I trekked toward the beach this morning. My legs numb from the cold, they didn't want to move. Then intermittently the sun warmed my shoulders as I walked up the crest of the hill until, on my way down toward the sand, gusts of cold air blew and chilled me to the core again.

January 15

The actress on the screen transformed herself from middle-aged to a tottering and demented old woman, and I believed her in every scene.

January 16

I notice that my book club colleagues are not committed to coming to meetings. They find any excuse in the book. However, when one says her husband's appointment with the oncologist may preclude her attendance I take that seriously. Life and death issues are more important than eating and discussing a frivolous novel.

January 17

I bought a new little silver cube incense holder on Abbot Kinney last Saturday, and now I'm burning incense on my writing desk. The sweet smoke leaves the stick in a fine thread that dissipates as it reaches toward the ceiling.

January 18

I tried to speak. I opened my mouth and tried to get a word out. But the woman across the table from me kept on talking, and talking, faster and louder, not even taking a breath, and I had to lean back, look interested, and swallow my thoughts down until I thought I would choke.

January 19

Every morning it's the same thing. I wake up and the first thing I do is grab my cellphone. I check my emails, I open my Facebook pages, I look at my blog, and go to Amazon to see if there are any ranking changes for my book . I can't do anything until that's done. It's like having a morning coffee fix.

January 20

I finished The Paris Wife today, and I wonder how this woman could bear for even one minute her husband's lover and how she invaded their lives and marriage bed.

January 21

I feel an ache in my right groin, my upper thighs groan, and my left little toe cries out to me to take off my shoe and smooth out my sock. but I spin on in class this morning. The background song, "Hurts So Good," sings just to me.

Blatant bragging

2012-01-19T14:18:00.000-08:00

This book is getting lots of kudos

As of today my memoir has twenty-two reviews up on Amazon. Twenty are five-star, and even though they wrote terrific reviews, two people gave the book only four-stars. Really what’s up with that?

But rather than complaining I’m just going to shout out Hip, Hip Hooray. I am just so thrilled with the response and with people’s reaction to the story and the writing in my book. Never in my wildest dreams did I think people would react so well to my words.

A friend told me last night that she was just going to read my book to support me, and she found once she opened it she couldn’t put it down. She kept raving about it. Now I couldn’t ask for more than that. Plus, when I asked her to post a review, she posted almost immediately. That’s a true friend. I thank her so much.

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve read my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On, please post a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and/or wherever you have access. I will appreciate it to no end. And I’ll copy and post it here on the Endorsements page of this blog and brag about it blatantly.

Revisiting the bucket list

2012-01-17T17:04:00.000-08:00

When I first started this blog back in November 2007 its purpose was to write down a list of things to do and places to go before I die – in homage to the movie “The Bucket List.” And even though this blog has become much more than that – I post photos and poems here, I write about my writing life, I report on special happenings – always in the back of my mind is the question: how am I doing in checking off the things on my list?

So I went back to two of my earliest post and copied the lists below. And I’ve commented on each one so you and I will both know what I’ve accomplished. And then I’ve written down a few more things – mainly about where in the world my husband and I want to travel before we’re unable to travel anymore.

That’s the thing. I feel very strongly lately that my time is very finite, so I need to make every moment that I have left count.

My Garden Buddha

The List

Climb down into the Grand Canyon – not done yet, but still on the list.
Go to the parts of the United States I haven’t been to yet – Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, the Carolinas – we’ve made plans to visit these places this spring.
Get my memoir Leaving the Hall Light On published – hooray, that has happened. It probably should have been first on the list.
Get a poetry book published – no, but I haven’t worked hard on it. I have a lot of those poems in my memoir. Does that count?
Read all the books that are waiting for me on the shelves in my closet – starting with:
The Golden Notebook – yes, I read that, and I’m still working my way through the others. Of course, you know how that goes. Other new books always get in the way. Yet, I just found that I have a copy of Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close on that shelf. It’s up next to be read.
Spend time outside in my garden – no. I don’t do that, and now I wonder why I even put it down.
Get a Buddha for my garden – yes. The Buddha is there. See photo above. It stood out wonderfully during Ben and Marissa’s wedding.
Spend more time in my office – yes. In fact I’m in my office almost all day, everyday.
Write some new poems – yes.
Take another cruise on the Cunard in the Princess suites to Scandinavia and Russia – yes.
Visit my brother and his family in Denver – yes. And I’m so glad we did. We went there every other month for the two years before he died.
Go to Virginia to see Anna and Ian and their mom and dad – and while there see the Annie Leibowitz exhibit at the Corcoran – yes. We’ve also gone there several times since and will go again in the spring as part of our northeast trip.
Contact some folks about my blog – yes. I’m doing that constantly.

My brother, Ken

A Few More Things

Israel – if all goes as planned we’ll do that in November

Africa

Greece

And my most important goal of all:

Live for a while in Italy. I just can’t get that one out of my head.

Please share your hopes and dreams with me. And also give me some feedback on what we should see and do in the places I’ve listed above.

Shooting a video is hard work

2012-01-15T12:32:00.000-08:00

The producer and director

I’m checking things off my list of to dos. One of the things that’s been on that list for months has been to make a three-minute video to post on Marla Miller’s Women Over 45: Speak website - another tool for marketing my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On. And with the help of my son, Ben, and daughter in law, Marissa, we finally filmed it. They are the producer and director.

I wrote the script some weeks ago and spent quite a bit of time tweaking and going over it. The morning of the shoot I read through my lines a few times while I was on the elliptical at the gym. I made a few changes when I got home, and after I showered and dressed and did my hair and makeup, I started going over it again.

Ben and Marissa had suggested I break the piece up in parts and that was brilliant, because not being used to memorizing anything, I needed the breaks. Speaking for three minutes straight would have been daunting and probably boring. Filming the speech in several parts helped me follow their direction to sound normal and not like I had memorized a script.

I paced up and down the long hall outside my office and talked through the script a few times out loud just before they arrived, and of course I tried to memorize the whole thing. And then my preparation time was over. Ben and Marissa arrived with cameras, lighting, and even a little lavaliere microphone that hooked onto my shirt.

By the way, I wore gray cords, a white V-neck long-sleeved t-shirt and a red satiny blouse over it. For some reason Marissa had a premonition that I would wear red. I wondered why she would think that since I almost always were gray, white and black. Well, perhaps she had a special bond to me that morning. Yes, for sure that’s true.

Once my office was ready for the shoot, Marissa started asking me questions relative to each part in my script. Her finishing the question was my queue to start talking.

I think I had to go over every section two or three times, and one section we had to go back to at the end because I just couldn’t get it right. But, finally after about forty-five minutes of stops and stars and go-overs, we finished with the talking part.

Then they took shots of me working at my computer, sitting on my window seat and writing in a notebook, sitting on my window seat meditating, and finally walking around my yard looking at the plants or patting the Buddha or sticking my fingers in the water fountain.

My next chore is to pick out a piece of Paul’s music that isn’t longer than three minutes to use for background. But just getting this video work to this point is a big relief. And with Ben and Marissa’s help, I know it will turn out just great – perfect, in fact.

So stay tuned. I’ll post it here as soon as it’s finished.

Putting a Face on Suicide - it never ends

2012-01-11T15:07:00.000-08:00

I'm at Facebook’s Putting a Face on Suicide page again today, still wondering what goes through such beautiful young minds that tells them to kill themselves. Some of these young folks are 14, 16, 19, 22 years old and had so much to live for. We must find a way to save our precious ones who look like they should be so full of life.

And in the words of one of the people who came by the page: “Cherish your loved ones, be kind to people, we will never know how long we have to enjoy someone.”

Paul was twenty-seven

First small stones

2012-01-09T12:26:00.000-08:00

I think my small stones this January are coming from all over the place - outside nature, outside events, inside my mind and thoughts, on my body. But I don't think it matters. Just so I pay attention for a bit of time and write down what I’m paying attention to. For example, I had to write today's stone about how I'm feeling because experiencing Denver's cold dry air for a couple of days played such havoc on my body. It is hard not to pay attention to it.

Here are my January 2012 River of Stones musings so far.

January 1

As the morning cold blows through my house like winter, my skin cannot bear my icy touch.

January 2

The trees stand like shadows against the morning fog, their branches dripping down dew.

January 2

Little Daniel was twelve when he took his life two years ago. I look at his face, all pure innocence, so young. His straight blond hair raggedly cut almost covers his eyes. Yet, there is a wiseness in him, in the way he looks so intent and focused. He makes me cry. I want to save him from his tragic fate. But, it is much too late.

January 3

I look out at the still, waning day. The palm trunks still wet with morning midst.

January 4

I read with tears about the death of the oldest Holocaust survivor and I marvel at his perseverance to survive and his love of family and life. I want to shout out his story to the world. We can all learn from it.

January 5

I’m sitting like a lump today, my head so close to my computer screen I can practically taste it. I’m aimless, lacking creativity and zest, so with that, I’m going to get up from this chair, take a little walk around the house, and sit back down and get back to work.

January 6

The plane is bouncing, that and its roaring engine noise and the giggling girls in the back make me uncomfortable and edgy.

January 7

I watch and listen to my great-niece Alyssa perform her Bat Mitzvah Torah portions and I remember my own almost fifty-nine years ago. I wore a navy blue shirtwaist dress trimmed in white with a little embroidered peter-pan collar. And coincidentally after Alyssa’s service my cousin gave me an old black and white photo of me in that dress.

Alyssa

January 8

The sun beams down on the snowy fir tree branches. It looks like a holiday greeting card outside today. Unfortunately, puddles are forming underneath already.

January 9

The cold dry high altitude air has made everything dry – my throat is scratchy, my skin itches, my eyes are red and runny, and my cuticles are peeling off in shreds. I’m glad to be back to my warm damp beach climate.

Vine Leaves Literary Journal - inaugural issue out January 6

2012-01-05T10:47:00.000-08:00

A new book of poetry will be born tomorrow. It’s called Vine Leaves Literary Journal created by Jessica Bell and Dawn Ius.

And I’m so excited to say that one of my poems is in this inaugural issue. I am thrilled to be among the wonderful poets with works chosen to appear in Issue #01, January 2012.

According to the Vine Leaves website the mission of this journal is to provide a poetic form sorely missing from the world of literature. They creators say:

"The world of literature nowadays is so diverse, open-minded and thriving in experimental works, that there doesn’t seem to be any single form of written art missing from it ... you would think. But there is.

The vignette.

It’s rare for a literary magazine to accept the "vignette" as a publishable piece of literature. Why? Because it is not a “proper story.” We beg to differ.

So, what is a vignette?

"Vignette" is a word that originally meant "something that may be written on a vine-leaf." It’s a snapshot in words. It differs from flash fiction or a short story in that its aim doesn’t lie within the traditional realms of structure or plot. Instead, the vignette focuses on one element, mood, character, setting or object. It's descriptive, excellent for character or theme exploration and wordplay. Through a vignette, you create an atmosphere.

Vine Leaves, will entwine you in atmosphere; wrap you in a world where literature ferments and then matures …"

So, please go ahead and click here for a free downloadable copy – tomorrow. For more information about editors Jessica and Dawn please read about them here.

My 2012 writing resolutions

2012-01-01T17:26:00.000-08:00

It’s time to get back to my writing life again. I know this list looks daunting but it’s not much more than I’ve already been doing for the last six months or so. But I must say that writing this all down makes it seem more ambitious.

Hopefully, this list will encourage my writing readers to join me.

· Participate in the January River of Stones project – notice something properly and write a small piece (stone) about it every day this month

· Finish Doreen Cox’ Adventures in Mother Sitting book and write a review

· Read and comment on other writing blogs to get ready for a May blog tour promoting the release of the eBook and paperback editions of Leaving the Hall Light On

· Write a thousand words a week on my novel

· Write at least one poem a week – use Robert E. Brewer’s prompts at Poetry Asides as a jump start

· Enter a poem into a contest or for publication at least once a month

· Post a poem a week on my Facebook poetry group pages, Poetry Pact and Poets. Writers, Photographers, Musicians, Artists ~ Networking Group

· Continue with my once a month posts for Naturally Savvy and PsychAlive

· Get my three- minute video up on Marla Miller’s Over 45 women speak website

· Start meeting with a writing group

· Write, write, write, journal, journal, journal and blog, blog, blog (here and on Red Room) – just do a bit of writing everyday

Happy Birthday

2011-12-31T10:51:00.000-08:00

This is the thirteenth year we are celebrating Paul’s birthday without him. He would have been forty years old today.

So as I’ve done in past years, I’m sharing some of my memories of him. It’s amazing how clearly these things continue to stay in my mind and continue to beget even more memories of our boy, Paul.

Happy Birthday, Paul, always with love.

· I’ll always remember he slept without closing his eyes all the way

· I’ll always remember he walked fast and way ahead of us

· I’ll always remember he had long, thick, black eyelashes surrounding clear-blue eyes

· I’ll always remember he played the piano, legs crossed at the knees, leaning

way down over the keyboard

· I’ll always remember he liked to wear second-hand clothes and didn’t mind

if they were ripped

· I’ll always remember the way he stood at the pantry door munching almonds

· I’ll always remember he liked to climb – trees, rocks, up the highest diving boards

· I’ll always remember he was meticulous about his things

· I’ll always remember he could play almost any tune by ear

· And that he was always a loner

· And how much he loved Janet

· And wasn’t hugged enough after she left him

· I’ll always remember he was sensitive

· I’ll always remember he drove too fast and erratically

· I’ll always remember he got lots of parking tickets

· I’ll always remember he was in love with John Lennon

· I’ll always remember he liked Doc Martin shoes

· I’ll always remember he tapped his foot when he sat down

· I’ll always remember seeing him on the stone stoop drinking coffee at Starbucks

· I won’t ever forget the feel of his cool pale skin the last night I saw him

· Or the sound of his voice

· I’ll always remember his hair was thick

· I can’t forget he knew all the nursery rhymes by the time he was two

· I’ll always remember that he and his brother called the back of the station wagon,

“the really back”

· I’ll always remember he loved to fish.*

Putting a Face on Suicide also remembered Paul today. I am so glad I connected with this powerful project this year and that I can promote its mission in even a small way.

The PAFOS Mission: Every 40 seconds somewhere around the world someone dies by suicide, that’s 99 people every 66 minutes. Every day, that’s almost 100 people in the United States alone, and over 2160 worldwide. Putting a Face on Suicide (PAFOS) is a suicide awareness project that creates posters and videos to pay tribute to those we have lost to suicide with dignity and respect. PAFOS humanizes the daunting statistics; lovingly replacing numbers with faces.

PAFOS, is an ongoing project soliciting pictures of your loved ones who died by suicide. Its objective is to collect 99 photos of people who have died by suicide for each day of the year; i.e., 36135 faces will represent 365 days of loss by suicide in the United States.

* This list appears in my memoir Leaving the Hall Light On: A Mother's Memoir of Living with Her Son's Bipolar Disorder and Surviving His Suicide.

The eve of New Year's Eve

2011-12-30T11:52:00.000-08:00

I think this is a perfect day for looking back. Usually we go to an eve, eve party where we always share about our events of the year. Since it was cancelled this year, I'll share our major happenings of 2011 here.

Major Happenings of 2011:

1. My husband, Bob, and I traveled to Amador County and Sutter Creek, CA with Manhattan Beach friends to taste some native zinfandel wines in January. On our first night there Bob fell and broke the three metatarsal bones in his right foot. Bob had foot surgery to repair and pin his broken bones together in February and had to be off his foot for eight weeks. He got around on a knee scooter (Rolleraid) or crutches. I was his driver.

Bob on his knee scooter (Rolleraid)

2. On May 8 (Mother’s Day) my memoir Leaving the Hall Light On was released by Lucky Press. My successful book launch reading and signing at our local independent bookstore, Pages, was held on May 12. A couple of weeks later we celebrated my birthday in Lake Oswego, Oregon with my sister’s family and their sister-in-law from Denver.

Madeline reading at Pages book launch

3. In July we went to Reno, NV to celebrate the marriage of dear friends.

4. Our great-niece Alyssa traveled from Denver on her own to visit with us for a week in August just before we traveled to Frankfurt and Berlin Germany, Stockholm Sweden, and Oslo Norway. Our first stop was to attend the Bar Mitzvah of the son of friends we met on our Northern European cruise last year.

5. Our son, Ben spent four weeks at CBS studios in Burbank in November acting in a major movie called “7500” that will be released next August. He also passed the National Association of Sports Medicine test. Besides being an actor, he is now a certified personal trainer and a tennis coach.

6. Ben’s wife, Marissa, appeared in a commercial for Transamerica Insurance. She also learned to be a Reiki practitioner and is now regularly seeing clients in her home studio.

7. Bob worked sporadically at a small engineering company. He is now there until the end of the year.

8. I still write and have poems published, and I am a regular contributor to three websites: Huffington Post, Naturally Savvy, and PsychAlive, besides writing for my blogs at Choices and Red Room. I also promote my book at book fairs, signings, and speaking engagements as part of my non-stop book marketing activities. And I am currently over 50,000 words into a novel.

Family photos

2011-12-28T12:38:00.000-08:00

I was practically obsessive about taking family photos – especially toward the end of Paul’s life. Like I had some sort of premonition. Unfortunately we don’t have a lot of early ones without my mother in them. She never wanted to be left out, and she always stood right up front and center.

This first here was at the time of Paul’s graduation from grade school. The last was just a few months before he died.

I am so fortunate to have this many. (Scroll down, there's a poem at the end.)

First Trophy

So after all

the dishes are washed

and put away

and she checks her emails

one last time

before closing her computer down,

she comes across an old photo,

a little crumpled

and faded

of her boy at age five,

her first-born son.

His blonde hair cut like

an upside-down cereal bowl

around his face,

his dark blue eyes twinkling,

his wide smile showing a gap

where his two front teeth should be,

he proudly holds up his

first soccer trophy

to the camera.

And she wonders if

she had hugged him more

would he be alive

and smiling today.

Paul and his brother, Ben

2011-12-26T13:21:00.000-08:00

Although our boys were very different from one another – Paul was a brainy musician and computer nerd and Ben is a brainy athlete and actor – they always loved each other very much. They respected each other’s differences and talents.

I’ve gathered some photos of them together. How could I not celebrate the brothers during this month of celebrating Paul’s life?

A Poem That Wants To Be for Ben*

They are always about Paul, my dead son

the one who died of his own free will

so many years ago.

My hordes of poems go on like a mantra:

his mania, depression, his delusions, escapades,

his suicide. They never fail to mention

his piercing blue eyes, the little half smile

that never showed his teeth, the smoky smell

and the way he slumped over the piano like the thinker

as he played.

Paul and his death have been my muse.

Ben’s living eyes brim over with love

as he looks down and folds me in his arms.

He is the son who says

I love you

every time we speak.

His smiles are wide

even when he faces disappointment

in his own life.

This son is the reason I choose to live.

Why isn't he the reason I choose to write?

*From my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On (Lucky Press LLC, 2011).

My favorite holiday ingredient

2011-12-23T13:01:00.000-08:00

I also blog over at Red Room, the author's website. Last week we were asked to blog about a secret holiday ingredient, and I'm pleased and proud to say that my piece was one of three to be honored and receive a prize of a book. Here is the piece in its entirety.

Most of the people in my family celebrate Hanukkah, and it had always been our tradition to give our nieces and nephews money – Hanukkah gelt – every year. The amount always varied depending on how wealthy or not we felt in a given year. However, as they grew up and married and had children of their own we felt our measly little check was insignificant and probably went to help pay for a half a bag of groceries.

So we decided to look for something a little more meaningful and more in keeping with our tradition of giving to charity at year’s end.

Every year on December 31, my husband and I sit down and make a list of the non-profit asks we have amassed through the year. Then we first make a decision about which charities we’ll donate to and then how much we’ll give to each. The amounts all depend on how much money we have allocated for our charitable giving at year’s end. Once that is done, we both take part in writing the checks, stamping the envelopes, and taking them to the post office. This process is my favorite part of the holidays. It feels so good to give back.

A few years ago I found an organization called Tis Best, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization and the original and No. 1 ranked charity gift card. Tis Best is a donation gift redeemable to any of TisBest's 250+ charity partners. We decided to buy a gift card for each of our nieces and nephews instead of sending them the usual check.

We make a direct tax-deductible donation to Tis Best, designating an amount of money to put on each of the cards we buy. Once our nieces and nephews receive their card, their job is to choose a charity to receive the money. We also get a notice when they’ve spent the amount on their cards and the names of the charities they chose.

They all tell us they love this gift, so we plan to continue this tradition for as long as we can. We like the idea of inspiring our young family members to make regular donations, and we hope that they in turn will continue charitable giving on their own in the years to come.

What I Miss

2011-12-22T12:21:00.000-08:00

Paul loved playing the piano

What I Miss

Twelve years didn’t erase him.

He is still with me everyday.

The memories haven’t dimmed.

I clearly see his face,

his clear blue eyes, his buzzed hair

in my mind.

I miss hearing him

play his music

as his bent fingers

lightly trickled up

and down the keyboard.

I miss hearing his footsteps

on the stairs and

hardwood floors

as he prowled

around the house at night.

I miss hearing his deep voice

as he said, “hello”

when he came home from work

I also miss his expertise.

He solved our computer problems at night

leaving carefully written instructions

in his childish printing

for us to find the next morning.

I don’t miss his smoking,

I don’t miss his bad moods

during his last few years,

I don’t miss that his sickness

sometimes made him angry

and me angry at him.

No, I don’t miss those things.

But, I don’t think about them.

I just think about the things

about him that I miss.

2008, 2011

The first night of Hanukkah

2011-12-20T14:30:00.000-08:00

Hanukkah was a big deal when the boys were young. We’d decorate the house with streamers and banners and other hanging Hanukkah icons, I’d make special meals that always included potato Latkes (pancakes), we’d give the boys a gift each night, and of course we’d always light the candles – adding one more each of the eight nights until the Menorah had all the candles burning on the last night.

Early on Paul became our candle lighter. Once he was old enough he loved to strike the matches. After the candles were lit it was time for gift giving, playing the Dreidel (spinning top) gambling game, and eating foil-wrapped chocolate Hanukkah Gelt (money).

All great memories – especially of Paul.

Paul's on my lap

All on his own

That's Granny on the left

By the way, tonight's the first night of Hanukkah.

Life in the South Pacific

2011-12-18T16:31:00.000-08:00

Our family lived in the South Pacific on a military base called Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands from January 1977 until September 1978. Paul was five and Ben two and a half when we arrived. Paul absolutely loved it there while Ben hardly has any memory of it. Paul attended Kindergarten and first grade on the island. Ben couldn’t attend the nursery school until he turned three so I took him to a baby sitter for an hour or so every day until he was old enough to go to school. He had some little friends to play with, and I learned how to hit a tennis ball.

Bob managed a software test program, and although I never had a paying job there, I did some volunteer activities. However, I used to get up early every morning and write. In fact, my Kwaj journal entries turned into an article that was published in our company magazine after our return.

We also traveled into Micronesia twice to Ponape, Yap, Palau and Guam, and we stayed in Hawaii on the way there and on the way home.

You can probably see how happy Paul was from the photos.

Just Loving It

Snorkeling with Dad

Chatting with Mom

Playing with friends on a sunset barge ride

On the shore in Ponape

Waiting for the plane to take us off-island

The famous black bomber jacket

2011-12-15T12:58:00.000-08:00

It’s getting cold enough for heavy jackets especially when I go to the gym early in the morning. And I have the perfect one – Paul’s black bomber. I've written about it, I have vivid memories of Paul wearing it, and since he died I’ve worn it many times. But, I’ve never shown it off until now. I’m happy to say it still looks fresh and new – no major holes, no fading. I guess it likes hanging in my office closet, transformed from the closet Paul once used. Hopefully, it will stay in this condition for many years to come.

How about that orange lining?

Black Bomber

Swaddled in this

black bomber jacket all weekend,

I am safe from the Big Sur chill.

It’s too large for me.

And that’s okay. It was Paul’s.

I bought it for him

years ago at American et Cie on La Brea

before he went crazy

and decided to leave us

way before his time.

I like how it snuggles me,

like he’s in there too giving me a hug.

It’s the only piece

of his clothing I have left.

I’ve given away the rest:

his favorite plaid shirts

that smelled of sweat and smoke,

the torn jeans he salvaged

from second-hand stores,

his worn brown Doc Marten oxfords

that took him miles on his manic escapades,

and the tan suede jacket

he had me repair over and over

because he couldn’t let it go.

Like this jacket –

I’ll never let it go.

It has stains I can’t remove

and threads unraveling,

My son is gone.

But, this jacket –

try and take it from me.

Just try.

2002. One of the poems in Leaving the Hall Light On: A Mother’s Memoir of Living with Her Son’s Bipolar Disorder and Surviving His Suicide (Lucky Press LLL, 2011)

Eight hours of hand surgery at age two

2011-12-13T12:19:00.000-08:00

Day before hand surgery

Paul was born with his middle and ring fingers on both hands connected. The individual bones were there, but there was no webbing in between for the natural finger separation.

Also the day before

We immediately consulted a hand surgeon who suggested we wait until he was four years old to schedule a surgery to separate his fingers. He said if the procedure was done too soon scar tissue could undermine the skin grafts needed to create the webs between his fingers.

However, once Paul realized he could stretch the two fingers apart a little bit – around age two – he wanted to open them. He asked for a screwdriver ("foogiver," he said) to accomplish it. Of course that frightened us and we consulted another surgeon. He agreed to do the work sooner rather than later.

So, a couple of months after Paul turned two he underwent an eight-hour surgery to open his fingers and graft skin taken from his groin area to create the webs in between. Each hand had about one hundred stitches.

Recuperating

Although Paul definitely wanted his fingers opened, the trauma of the surgery, the four hours of recovery afterward without his parents allowed at his side, and the all-enveloping casts that didn’t allow him to suck those fingers anymore took its toll. He came away from that experience with a whole list of fears related to his hospital stay that he didn't get over for quite a while. But, once the casts were off he could maneuver the now five digits on each of his hands perfectly. Also, had he not had that surgery he probably never would have learned to play the piano.

Results just after casts are removed