Some of you have written, welcoming a new column, wondering where I’ve been keeping myself. A sweet and humbling realization that my words, this intermittent take on life, might be missed by you. It’s a delicate balance, keeping up with (and penning down) my racing thoughts, not wanting to flood mailboxes or psyches, balancing and rebalancing work and home demands. So I’ve been a bit scarce this summer.
Like a loamy fallow field awaiting just the right moment to burst forth with shoots of grain, my own interior landscape has been husbanding a bumper crop of experiences. On a long drive home, my beloved hubby at the wheel, I began unearthing a summer’s worth of thoughts and reflections. There are books to share and my brother’s and sister-in-law’s wonderful new bakery to trumpet. My first children’s picture book will be out come September but I never got around to sharing with you the trip to NYC where I first promoted it. I had the joy of being 20 again during a weekend with my college roommates and through the hospitality of a close friend and neighbor shared the slice of American history and heritage she has long enjoyed. I took a chance on a physical challenge that has left me achy and bruised but button-popping proud.
Does time now travel at light’s speed because I am busier, or older or both? Showing up here affords me a place to meander, a place to reach out, a little lopin de terre* (or small corner of earth) to root around in — alone here at my desk and also in your good company.
I don’t want you to feel pestered with reminders of new posts so here’s what I’ve set up. For the next two to three weeks there will be a new post each Tuesday and Friday. Subscribers to the blog will receive that automatic reminder of new fare to read. For those used to getting notice when a new post is up, this is your notice.(Hint: subscribe and be the first on your block to read the new ones!) Tune in and enjoy at will. Salut!
*I first read this phrase in middle school in Betty Smith’s Joy in the Morning. Don’t know why it stuck but I’ve never been able to use it anywhere. Wonderful book by the author of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
The above photo is courtesy of writer and poet Elizabeth Adams whose blog The Cassandra Pages is wonderful and rich for tilling. Thank you, Beth, for the perfect photo.
Welcome back — good to read about your summer adventures. Sounds like you had a grand time, and I look forward to seeing that book.
I’ve taken time off from posting/blogging this summer too, what with some serious elder parent care and working on the Wright house. I won’t go on here, but will post a “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” on my blog in a couple weeks.
Meanwhile, I had also promised myself to live more of a “3-D” life this summer — to spend less time online and more time in the sun and face-to-face with some of the people in my life. I’d spent so much time online all winter that it felt SO good this summer to get my life back, despite some very sad setbacks with the folks …
Glad to hear your voice. Looking forward to details–hmm, a physical challenge?
And can’t wait to hold your new book in my hands! Kindle, Shmindle.
Amazing how you mention things that send me digging through memories–read both books about a million years ago. Was I 13 or maybe 14?
Be assured, I’ve never felt “pestered” by one of your e-mails, my dear. It’s always a pleasure to take a break from the demands of the day and spend a little time with you.
Isn’t it great to notice that you’ve been missed? I think that there is so much mindless drivel on the Interweb. Sometimes that is just what I need to read and it boosts me up.
Having said that, it is nice to read blogs that are written by writers. The peak into their lives is written well. It’s kinda like going for a walk after dark in a good neighborhood. The peaks inside the houses give you decorating ideas.
So post as you please and know that there are people who delight in reading what you write. Of course, this gives some thought to what is on MY blog. Mindless drivel or a peak into my life? Not sure I really know. Or care to know!
Looking forward to having you in my reader twice a week!
And can you tell that I have mommy brain? Mountains have peaks. We PEEK into places!
Debra,
Thanks so much for your post and you were missed, but it sounds like you were having some much-needed reflective time, so don’t fret. How exciting that you have a children’s book out! I can’t wait to see it, and my nearly 6-year old daughter (who’s read 66 books for the library’s summer reading program) will be thrilled, too!
One of my summer rewards for myself after a hectic year of teaching freshmen English comp at our local community college was to read your book, “This Jewish Life.” After reading your piece in “Good Housekeeping” and then visiting this site, I ordered the book in April to give me something to look forward to during the last weeks of the semester and then grueling exam grading. I enjoyed it so very much! I laughed and cried and felt so honored to read the stories of so many special people. So, thank you for such a wondeful and lyrical book (yes, much of it read like poetry to me) and I’ll be looking for your children’s book. Perhaps this will open some doors for you in other venues . . . ?
It’s great to have you back. I have your site bookmarked on my office computer as a “treat” to myself to read when the paper grading gets too tedious. Thanks again for an exquisite read and I look forward to much more.
These homonyms just pique more interest, don’t they!
Lisa! Thank YOU for such a sweet letter. I am absolutely blown away! I cried a lot through the writing of This Jewish Life. The people I interviewed were amazing. Enjoy these last weeks of summer and kudos to your daughter (and to you!) for that love of reading.
I love getting your blogs because it keeps us in touch if virtually. What age group is the children’s book geared to, congrats and do keep me informed. We are, unexpectedly, going to China in October; I wish we had the Darvicks for company and as chroniclers. We are driving to Colorado in January; maybe we can make a detour. Judy Cohen