Thank you – whomever you are – for purchasing and reading my book. If you have had a difficult life, were married, divorced, remarried, if you have now have grandkids, and you are still laughing – you will relate to the story of my life! 18 % of sales goes to Memorial Sloan Kettering for keeping me alive!
Kudos to NYC for really teaching. My grandson just “graduated” from kindergarten. This is a ceramic piece he made after learning about Wayne Thiebaud, his favorite artist. Of course that was a month ago. Now his favorite artist is Jim Dine. I can talk to him about Picasso and Leger and O’Keefe and the list goes on.
For graduation, he told me, his class was going to sing “It’s a Wonderful World,” by Louis Armstrong. Yes, he knew who wrote the song and he knew some history about Armstrong.
His music teacher encouraged him to learn piano and so he is. And he practices 10 minutes everyday.
THANK YOU NYC for doing your job in educating my grandson. THERE ARE NO TEACHERS LIKE NYC PUBLIC SCHOOL TEACHERS once the city makes up its mind to do the job!
From one teacher to all of you, THANK YOU!!!!!
My book is light enough to read on a plane or at the beach but hits on every concern you have about aging – with humor and self reflection, you don’t have to age alone. AGE WITH ME!
I got to sit in Johanna Hurwitz’s study and chat with her for almost two hours. Johanna Hurwitz, author of CLASS CLOWN, ALI BABA BERNSTEIN, ALDO APPLESAUCE AND MORE THAN 70 OTHER BOOKS, is my hero. This invite came via mutual friends who read my book. I had taken a workshop with Johanna years ago.
Anyway, my daughter sent the principal of my grandson’s school Johanna’s proposal. I am praying that Johanna Hurwitz, who is one of my daughter’s beloved authors, and is now my grandson’s and granddaughter’s beloved author, will be a guest speaker at my my grandson’s school. I will post when this will actually happen.
IF YOU HAVE GRANDKIDS, GO TO AMAZON.COM AND PURCHASE HER BOOKS AS GIFTS. YOUR OWN KIDS WILL THANK YOU FOR REMINDING THEM OF SOME OF THEIR CHILDHOOD FAVORITES.
GIVE ME BACK MY FACE
I have come to the conclusion that there is a narcissist inside each and every one of us. My granddaughter— well, she looks like me. Even though she has her dad’s nose and his mother’s round face, she looks like me. Even though she is built a little chunky and she has sturdy legs and feet, and I have thin legs and high arches, she looks like me. She does not have my blue eyes. But she has my hair. Her hair is curly and wavy. It has a wildness to it. It needs work. But after a bit of detangler and after someone runs a comb through it, and after someone twists a little piece and puts a ribbon in, she is striking.
She has my look, my expressions, my feistiness. She is charming and likes to laugh. She likes to make others laugh. She is engaging and she can hold a conversation.
I had plucked a wild chin hair and it left a mark. June noticed it when I was changing her diaper.
“What’s that boo-boo?” she asked with sweet compassion. She reached up and gently pulled my face down and said:
“I want to kiss that boo-boo.” And she did.
Then she squirmed off the bed with an intent look on her face. She has something to do and somewhere she has to be. She is two and a half.
Dare to cross her, and she will give you a piece of her mind. On occasion, she is known to scream:
“Get out of here! I didn’t ask for YOU!”
I cannot help it.
“Give me back my face,” I say mildly amused. She laughs and pretends to rip her face off and put it on my head.
“Give me back my hair,” I continue in awe that my looks and possibly my personality skipped a generation. She is undeniably a part of me. She pretends to pull her hair out and puts it on me. But in a split second she takes back both her face and her hair.
I look at her and I see a little me. And I can’t help but be a little narcissistic and ever so proud!
We were back in our house helping the adult kids pack up when the sobs slowly subsided into sniffles. I gave Graham a first aid kit with HUGE Band-Aids and Bacitracin so he could feel more in control. I wanted to say something to help. I bided my time. I have learned that when I am slightly removed, I can see things I cannot see when I am too closely involved. But, I am careful, very careful, to try NOT to step on my daughter’s toes. So I waited.
Then I said: “ Graham, can I talk to your knee?”
(Even my daughter was curious and could not think me as a butt-in-ski.)
Intrigued, he answered: “Yes!”
I said: “Knee, you do not have the power to ruin my grandson’s day. Knee, you cannot take away what my Graham has accomplished today. He swam twelve strokes all by himself!”
Graham smiled through the last of his tears.
And then he looked at me and winked: “Gotcha!” he said.
A few weeks later I was shocked when my dermatologist found something on the back of my calf. Over three years had gone by since I had surgery for melanoma. I go to the dermatologist religiously. I had seen my local dermatologist less than three months prior.
The dermatologist showed me the area of concern. I saw something red the size of a period.
“I just shaved.” I said. “And I probably nicked myself.”
“I have to biopsy it,” the dermatologist insisted. I knew in my heart it would come back as another melanoma.
It did and I was sad and angry. I remembered my grandson and his boo-boo. I wanted to say: “Melanoma, I will not let you take away my joy, my accomplishments, my work, my joy, my life.”
Instead, I went into MSK and had surgery.
“GOTCHA!” I said to my boo-boo.