Where do I gather my inspiration?
Many of my friends never knew that I used to write song lyrics before my memoir (Myopia, a memoir) was published. It was one of my great joys when I lived in New York City in the early years. My friend, Guy Strobel, and I would sit for hours at his piano, up four flights in a walk-up in Hell’s Kitchen. An actor, writer, composer and singer, Guy has always made me laugh. He is not unlike Peter Pan, although he is quite mature. I think of him as a creative wood sprite who just happens to have lived most of his life in the Big Apple. For several years, I lost track of Guy. We moved from NYC to Placitas, New Mexico, and I had stopped writing lyrics for several years prior. Smack dab in the middle of a bilateral knee replacement that I was undergoing, Guy telephoned...
Where is my pride?
I was born in America, and America is my only citizenship. Am I proud to be an American? Yes and no. When I was a little girl, I was raised to respect and love my country. It was the 1950s, and most of my friends and their families felt the same way. For some unknown reason, like many other white children raised in the North, I did not connect to slavery as something northern. Those down there in the South were responsible. I was unable to connect the dots until the rise of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement. My friends always included people of color. I knew nothing of the trials that people of color could endure in this country. Due to the fact that I am Jewish, I was obsessed with Anne Frank, and what could possibly happen to me. But I...
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