WriteRunRead Blog

As I was putting away some folded laundry, I heard the shrieks of four 11 year-old boys echoing through the house, yelling, "Oh my God, did you see that!?" and "Wow, no way, did you see that tree fall!?" I dropped everything and went running. Apparently a small tree was uprooted by the wind and saturated earth and fell across the road, the only ingress and egress to and from my house.  At the moment the tree was falling, one boy's mom was about to drop him off here.  The tree fell right in front of her car. To add to the drama, my 10 year-old daughter was about to be dismissed from school and she was expecting me to pick her up within moments.  But the tree was blocking the road. One of my son's friends suggested that they walk to the school to pick her up.  Another offered to help move the tree.  My son volunteered to get a saw out of the garage. The five of us worked together to move the tree off the road and we broke limbs and branches so that car...

Are you a "dog" person?  I'm really not.  We had a couple of dogs growing up, they were around, sort of just took up space.  No one walked them or cuddled with them or even talked to them as far as I can remember.   My 10 year-old daughter has been begging for a dog ever since she could talk.  She has a love and an affinity for any dog she sees.  Pasted on her bedroom wall, right next to her bed - inches from her pillow - were computer printouts of random Pugs that she found on the Internet.  Her dad is allergic to dogs.   She was relentless in her requests: last spring, as her proficiency in computer program-use expanded, so did her requests for a dog.  She created a powerpoint presentation indicating various reasons and explanations as to why our family would benefit from having a dog.  She even included a section on how to deal with pet allergies! My husband caved.  We found a breeder of "schnoodles" who are supposed to be as ...

I don't watch a lot of T.V.  Who has the time?  But my sister and her kids were raving about Glee - an hour-long musical comedy-drama about the struggles of a resurrected Glee club at an Ohio-based high school. The show depicts the glee club's struggles to survive in an environment where the jocks and "cool kids," and even the school administrators, look down upon this group's musical endeavors.  But it also chronicles the glee club members' individual struggles to continue to sing and pursue their interests while the butt of intense and unbearable ridicule and harassment.  A lot of what goes on is overly dramatized and almost seems surreal, but there is a grain of truth to almost every situation and conversation and humiliation that these characters experience. I think the crux of the show, the message for everyone is to have tolerance, to let kids pursue their interests, have an open mind, live and let live. And Sue Sylvester is hysterical.

This morning I ran the Great Cow Harbor Race in Northport, one of the most beautiful places I've visited on Long Island.  At the start of this well-organized race, the sky was a rich blue, but the breeze a little too sticky and warm for my race goals. The community was out in numbers supporting the runners along the route with cups of water, sprinklers to run through and the "Rocky" theme blasting from giant speakers.  It was a lovely day.  Did I mention the heat? I don't know, I wasn't prepared, didn't realize how hot it was, didn't drink enough electrolytes, FORGOT MY IPOD at home, what-have-you - but it was a struggle.  And when I say struggle, I mean dizzy, felt faint and beet red by mile 5.  It was the first time during a race that I was considering walking. I didn't.  I continued running through the heat and weak legs and vertigo until I finally caught a glimpse of the finish line.  I sped up a bit to try to finish a little better. I was ...

Here's an entry I posted last September on the Gotham City Networking Blog page: "This past Saturday, my friend and I planned to run the semi-infamous 10K road race together. We don’t see each other often enough and race days are always a good way for us to “catch up.” We figured between the drive from Roslyn to Northport (and back), and the hanging around before and after the race, we’d have ample time to find out what we’ve been missing in each other’s lives. I sent my friend an email the night before the race, explaining that she would need to be at my house by 6:45 a.m. in order to make the shuttle bus from Northport High School to the start of the race. According to the directions, the shuttle ceases to run at 7:45 a.m. so that the Village can fully close the roads in preparation for the race. I woke up extra early, eager and excited for the race. My adrenaline seemed already to be kicking in and I had not even left my house. At 6:45 a.m., my friend had not arriv...

Over the summer, my blackberry got washed over by a wave in Atlantic Beach.  It was all salty and sandy and wet and useless.  It was over: every contact and notation and photograph wiped away as quickly as the flow of the surf. Yes, I had backed it all up on my Mac, but as it turned out, the version I had did not support the downloaded blackberry software that I used to back it up in the first place. What? Now you tell me?!  Anyway the point of this blog is not about backing up your information (although you must, in some form or another!), but rather that 35 minute drive home from Atlantic Beach to Roslyn in my car, alone, with no service.  Ha!  Sounds insane, yes?  Well, it is, but it's also true. I had a stirring anxiety in my body for that entire trip.  I had no phone, no way to contact another living soul.  And that caused me stress.  It was an involuntary reaction.  I wasn't thinking about it, I just felt it.  I can still r...

In all the months that I've conducted interviews of staff, trustees and administrative employees of the Bryant Library, I never once asked the "interviewee" what their favorite book is.  It would seem to be the most obvious question.  In all likelihood, people who work at libraries would have at least one or two on their list. Not only is it something that I'm curious about, but I think it would reveal a thing or two about that person.  Possibly expounding on "why" that's a favorite book choice would be a nice follow up query. Readers of this blog: would you care to tell me what your favorite book is -- and why?

The last time I set foot in a classroom (as a student!) was in 1992.  We had looseleaf paper and binders and maybe some yellow legal pads.  We sat in a lecture center or some form of a classroom and took out our paper, pens, textbooks, etc.  All hard copy. My experience last night as a graduate student at C.W. Post was remarkably different.  Set atop each "desk" or individual "table" was a 22" iMac.  Yes, an iMac.  I immediately texted my 11 year-old son (who I knew would be equally impressed) and told him.  He wrote back, "Can I come?" I was so excited to be in a classroom again.  I hung on to every word the professor uttered.  And it's a good thing I was paying attention.  She introduced "Blackboard" - a program that will be our lifeline to assignments,  our syllabus, various other weekly notations and tools, and -- to our professor. A young woman next to me, probably in her early 20s was zipping through Blackboard the way I zi...

It's been a long road: first they were babies, then preschoolers, now full-fledged elementary and middle school students.  (Hopefully, I'm on the middle of the road somewhere).  Years went by and I'm not sure what happened.  During those years when my children were tiny, I hardly noticed the time, the day, the month, even the year. There wasn't a moment that I wasn't doing something for someone else.  My entire existence became intertwined with that of my family's.  The lines were blurring, the experiences were another's, not mine.  It was getting more and more difficult to determine where the kids ended and I began. Maybe that's good, in a sense, to be so utterly connected with your children that you feel as one.  There's a special bond.  One that will last a lifetime.  So, yes, it is good.  But there's has to be a separation. Over the past five years I have volunteered to serve my local public library as a Trustee.  It's bee...

Is competitiveness a genetic trait that you either have or don't, that can be cultivated or not?  If you don't have it, can you ever truly know the will to win, to be the fastest, the best, at almost any cost? Watching the U.S. Open over the past two weeks has me wondering.  Especially yesterday's match between Federer and Djokovic - two talented, fierce tennis players, neither one relenting for a moment.  Then there was Kim Clijsters - who seemed to gracefully pummel her opponent with nary an inkling of sympathy.  Watching that one-sided match, I felt badly for Zvonareva, even though she was lacking decorum and sportsmanship throughout her breezy defeat. I've always loved sports, tennis especially.  I like to compete and test myself, but I don't feel the will to win at all costs.  I know many people who do.  Is it not in me?  Can it be taught effectively? What do you think?

The date will always give me a chill and evoke feelings of dread and sadness.  Time stood still that day.  Things happened in slow motion.  It was all so surreal and horrifying and unfathomable. Tomorrow, on this day, my son will be playing in his first Tier 1 ice hockey game.  He's been playing the game for over 3 years now, but never at this level.  It's a new experience for him, full of intense challenges.  When I heard the team had scheduled a game for September 11th, I felt uneasy.  Was it right to be playing a game (after all, it is just a game), on this sad day?  Would allowing our son to play indicate irreverence?   There's an article in today's "Newsday" about the topic (http://www.newsday.com/long-island/nassau/mixed-feelings-across-li-over-sept-11-youth-games-1.2274986). After giving it some thought, I decided that participating is okay, as long as we remember -- and remind our children.

ONE DAY by David Nicholls is a book about one day.  Each chapter chronicles the events of the same day each year - in this case it's July 15th (St. Swithin's Day in England). It's a love story, funny -- yet poignant and served up with just enough British humor.  We get to know Emma and Dexter, Em and Dex, our two protagonists, through an alternating narrative.  They seem like real people to me, with faults and hopes and dreams that sometimes don't work out.  When characters come to life like this, it's hard to believe they've been invented or imagined by another.  The dialogue is funny - and though I hate to say it, often "laugh out loud" funny. ONE DAY is a clever title: it connotes the one day on which we find out what has happened throughout the past year.  It's editing at its finest!  But I think David Nicholls also means for us to take something else away from his title and story. That is, one day our dreams may actually be realized, our ...

In the end (and I guess in the beginning too!) it's your family that you can count on.  What a cliche, right?  But most cliches are cliches for a reason - because they ring true far too often. Upon starting this blog, one of my sisters immediately became a "follower" so that she would be notified whenever I posted a new entry.  To me, that indicates loyalty, interest, respect, and caring for what I do.  For my writing.  For whatever I write.  I value that.  A few days later, my other sister also became a "follower" of my blog. I can count on them for this and for many other things.  I know that.  And they can count on me. When I had my first child, I was typically overwhelmed and having great difficulty nursing him in those early, blurry days of motherhood.  After just a day or two when I thought this new baby was starving and malnourished from my inability to feed him naturally, my sister (on to her third baby at the time) insiste...

Do you remember the scent of a freshly sharpened #2 pencil? The subtle combination of wood shavings and metallic lead? Does the sheer mention of this bring you back somewhere?  To another place and time, entirely? I can't remember what it was like to just write, you know, with simply a pencil or pen, exclusively.  The days when keyboards were barely an idea -- still infant typewriters.  Our handwriting mattered, we practiced it with our sharp pencils for inordinate amounts of time it seemed. Now there's keyboarding.  Kids take a course called keyboarding.  Penmanship is falling by the wayside.  Quickly too. In my very old house, inserted on the inside of a small oddly-shaped closet door (in the kitchen) is a metal pencil sharpener affixed to the interior door.  The kind you have to "crank" to operate. I think I'll leave it there.

Upon stepping into the sunshine today, I was instantly reminded of the beautiful Leo Lionni children's book, FREDERICK, about a mouse who is clever enough to soak up the sun's rays to store away for the cold, dreary impending winter days. It's too easy to take these beautiful sunny days for granted, especially given the summer of sunshine we have been fortunate enough to experience.  Frederick is a smart mouse with some poetic ideas about taking what we're given and keeping it within you to savor now and also later.

Dear Google: With all due respect, I am writing to inform you that the term "followers" is not complimentary and may put off some otherwise willing "followers" if only the term was something more encouraging and less demeaning. There are probably at least half a dozen or so more readers out there who would be "followers" of my blog if only the category were not so stigmatizing.  Perhaps you (Google) could try a new term, something less pathetic sounding, more enticing, such as: "readers," "fans," "groupies," -- get the picture? Not too many people are proud to be followers.  Aren't we taught -- as early as grade school -- not to be a follower, but instead, to be a leader? Respectfully yours, julie

As Labor Day weekend creeps in, with all its ominous hurricane predictions, I begin conjuring images of crunchy autumn leaves and new textbooks and frenetic kids and school buses flooding our roads. The delirious dad skipping down the aisles in a STAPLES commercial sums it up for many parents.  Yippee, school's open, "Drive Safely" and all that, but make no mistake, school's OPEN!   Funny though, what I hear more and more often as my kids grow and take on more responsibilities, both with homework and extra-curricular activities, is that parents are not excited for school to begin.  It seems that many of the moms I know are dreading it all: the schedules, the homework, the driving, packing the lunches, the snacks, and so on. Our kids responsibilities have become our jobs.  One friend has said on several occasions, "I can't talk now, we are doing homework."  I really don't understand how our kids' homework has become "our" homework.  ...

Maybe it's my faulty memory creeping up on me again, but I don't remember decorating the interior of my middle school or high school locker.  Do you? I had one of those recurring, "we didn't do this (have this, you insert the appropriate verb) when we were kids" moments.  At my son's middle school orientation, there were five-foot long tables set up with all sorts of "stuff" with which students (read: their parents) could buy to decorate their lockers. The items ranged from mirrors to shelving (of varying sizes and colors), to magnetic sport team clings, "wall paper," pencil and cell phone holders.  Yes, there was a little contraption for sale that magnetically clings to your locker that will hold a child's cell phone. It's just another way of turning something simple into something not so simple.  We used to just put our books in our lockers, and maybe tape up a ripped out page of Shaun Cassidy from "TIGER BEAT." Th...

As my son begins middle school next week, his first year out of elementary school, I am eager and excited for all that he will likely experience.  Part of this happy anticipation is the result of a school directive to all incoming sixth graders:  their required summer reading. Every single student in sixth grade was expected to read the "young readers edition" of  "THREE CUPS OF TEA" by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin.  THREE CUPS OF TEA is an account of a climber's efforts to build more than sixty schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  According to the summary, Mortenson has dedicated "his life to building literacy and peace, one child at a time." If that is the message, then how lucky are these kids?  Literacy and Peace.  If each student takes just an iota of those sentiments away with them as they embark on a new experience of learning and friendship, then we'll all be lucky. My son loved the book. Thank you Greg Mortenson and the R...