Prizes, Patriotism and Peace
Random Thoughts On Acceptance And Change The first prize I ever won for writing anything was in elementary school. The American flag was the topic. Innocent, and far beyond my immature imaginings, I wrote about what I thought were my father’s feelings for the American flag. As a Russian refugee, his patriotism was both sincere and strong. And even though I won the first prize, my father dismissed the whole event by saying I was too young to write about anything. In many ways, of course, he was absolutely right (but I did have to start somewhere). The next thing I knew, people around me were burning that same flag and wearing it as clothing. Although I didn’t burn flags, or even wear any, for that matter, I did protest and I marched. Civil rights and the...
Puzzling The Storms
When Hurricane Carol hit the Northeast coastline in 1954, I was five years old. My sister was 13. Our house was a sturdy one, built for sea captains and their wives and families in an historical courtyard of similar wooden three-story structures, erected on serious foundations to withstand just such storms and harsh winters. I would be starting school this year, but in those days, school did not begin until after Labor Day, and we were still in summer mode. There were sprinkles of sand in most of my shoes, fresh from long walks by the shore. No one in our courtyard had a garage, and so each family parked their car in front of their home in this horseshoe courtyard, shaded by massive oak and maple trees that had stood solidly for years. They had seemed to me to be...
Precious Sunsets: A Simple Meditation on Friendship, Love and Loss
The sunsets are remarkably breathtaking in Africa and in New Mexico. But sunsets are inevitable wherever we live. No matter how gorgeous, they remind us that another day has passed. We can never do the same day over again unless, of course, we have been snatched up and into the film Groundhog Day. I was reminded of this once again just a few days ago. Four of us, old friends now since my move to New Mexico 17 years ago, were having a reunion/birthday lunch at Farm & Table. There was a soft breeze; the clouds were puffy and dark in places, indicating a possible future rain, a perfect fall day in Albuquerque. The flies were kind enough to leave us pretty much to ourselves until they bombarded us when our dessert arrived. But who could blame them? Because one of...
When the Lion is Not Asleep: Thoughts On Writing a Prequel
In the jungle The mighty jungle The lion sleeps tonight While my husband and I were traveling in the bush of South Africa, we were told that male lions sleep about 18 to 20 hours per day. After eating a kill, most often obtained by the hard-working female, males might sleep a full 24 hours. The female is fairly close behind and sleeps somewhere between 16 to 18 hours. Contrary to the above song lyric, they hunt in the twilight, and they are more likely to be sleeping when you come upon them during the daylight hours. I have finally reached the stage in life where I can sleep during the daytime or during the nighttime, as I wish. I have so often wondered what that would be like: to sleep when I want, to read a novel from cover to cover without moving, to begin a...
Never Can Say Goodbye…
Just like the song, I struggle with goodbyes. Many of us do. But if we don’t say goodbye and instead say “see you soon,” we can end up having friends all over the country, as well as friends all over the world. This is how I have chosen to view my dear friend and sister and Turkish teacher Muhsine’s move to Dallas. Where will I go for iftar next year? Perhaps I will go just a bit further south of Placitas. That this would happen so soon after my right arm and publicity person, Carolyn Flynn, announced that she was moving to New York, may give me false hope. Carolyn (thank you, thank you, thank you) is moving back! Might this also happen with Muhsine? I would not wish such disaster on anyone, and I am happy for Muhsine and her family, as I was happy for Carolyn,...
Easy Prey
The zebra is easy prey for lions, wild dogs and hyenas, among other predators. The zebras themselves are vegan, feeding almost exclusively on grasses. His or her stripes are unique to each individual. Like snowflakes, no two creatures are exactly alike. This is also the case for the markings on a giraffe. The giraffe is also vegan and susceptible to the same predators. For some reason, zebras and giraffes come to mind as I think of vulnerable groups living in totalitarian regimes or regimes that might be heading in that direction. Who is most vulnerable and why? They may look alike, but they are not. After the disenfranchised, obviously, journalists fall heavily into this category. When lightning strikes, there must be someone left to alert the rest of us to seek...
Letting the cat out of the bag
Thoughts on the recent publication of Myopia, a memoir In the first place, a memoir is not an autobiography, so that I was able to write about what I thought were important incidents that would emphasize the points I wished to make in writing the book. Secondly, I am in the process of retiring as a psychoanalyst and I think my patients have probably known me pretty well. They may not have had access to the details, but I’m guessing that I have, over the years, revealed much more about myself than I am aware, just by being who I am. This memoir was written, rewritten, stuffed in a box in my closet, pulled out and written and rewritten again. Initially, my sister and I thought we might write the book together, calling it “Double Vision.” My sister is an...
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