WriteRunRead Blog

During this last frenzied week of shopping, cooking and wrapping, I had no choice but to take a last minute trip to the beloved Target to get some last minute items.  My mother, who is always finished with her holiday shopping by December 1st, surely would have been disappointed in me. But, alas, I'd run out of scotch tape midway through the pile of gifts "hidden" in my office closet.  And the container of Tide was running copiously low.  So there I was, scouring the aisles, filling up my cart with miscellaneous trinkets, snacks, and laundry products.  You could say I lost my focus, picking up "texting gloves" for those nearest and dearest on my list, forgetting to grab the scotch tape while wandering around the holiday aisle. So during this aimless, cart pushing, item tossing moment, I finally looked down to check my phone (how many times a day do I do that - a topic for another blog) and realized that it wasn't there.  Not my phone or purse or any of t...

Have you got it?  You know what I mean, are you power-less or –ful?  Are you existing on fake power, generator-supplied electricity, or are you just plain limp like a dead wire. How many days did you wait?  Are you still waiting?  Where do we live?  In the United States, in New York, where taxes and electricity costs are through the roof?  Or do we live somewhere else, where we should have little or no expectation that our homes and lives will be electrified some 13 days after a hurricane? What did people with babies do?  No heat, hot water or a warm stove to heat up a bottle?  What will happen to the people who live(d) in places like Long Beach, Freeport and the Jersey Shore? What about those who were already living on the edge, with little or no provisions? Despite my cynical and wise remarks above, I’ve figured out several important things - that perhaps would have taken me the rest of my life to discover: 1. I don’t want to rely on a...

Or 11/22/63, if you are a Stephen King fan. Wow.  My husband read the book and insisted that I read it.  I kept putting it off, complaining that the more than 800 pages in a hard cover bound copy was just too heavy, literally and figuratively.  I'm not interested in time travel, unless someone can show me how to really do it. I don't like to read about things that can't happen.  I could hardly understand all the "pretend play" my kids engaged in when they were younger. But he was persistent, kept asking me when I planned to start it.  I said things like: "oh, during April vacation, maybe" or, "when it comes out in paperback," or this one, "when I'm in the mood for a time travel-type book" (never). Finally, because I couldn't come up with any more excuses, I made a deal: I would listen to the AUDIObook while walking my dog.  Each day, with the dog on a leash, I touched the little screen on my iPod and listened to a port...

Have you ever been a recipient of a group email, one that promotes, espouses or suggests that you root for one political group, candidate, or other ideology with which you don’t agree, support or care for?  I have and it’s starting to bother me.  When people find a political (or religious) message they love, that they simply can’t wait to share with all of their nearest and dearest email addresses, where is the discerning thought?  Where is the, “Hmmm, who on this list of email addresses would appreciate receiving this political (or religious) message?”   The answer, quite frequently, is “Nowhere.”  I am repeatedly surprised, then annoyed, and in some cases angered by this insouciance.  There are many laws out there, on the state and federal levels that regulate unsolicited commercial email.  Why not draft an ordinance of sorts that would regulate unsolicited political (and religious) email?  Maybe that’s getting too close to stepping on Fi...

Having a younger sibling sometimes brings out the grown-up in me.  It did so - even when I was a kid.  One of my sisters is two years younger than me.  We shared a room for most of our childhood and I remember feeling sort of responsible for her.  Maybe that was our parents’ intention, instilling it in me with their continuous warnings: “Look after your sister.” Decades ago, when some bully of a thirteen-year-old wanted to beat her up, I stepped in (with my WORDS!) to prevent the altercation.  I couldn’t let anyone hurt her. This was no ordinary feat - I am not what you would call, intimidating. Later, when she suffered a tragic loss as a seventeen year-old, I felt responsible for her recovery, her survival.  She may not have known it, but that sensation guided my every move around her. Consciously or not, I relinquished a great deal of this innate sibling duty once I had my own kids to take care of and worry about; kids to be a grown-up for.  B...

Has anyone noticed the direct inverse relationship between whether school is in session and a kid’s mood?   What about how this correlation can be extended to the parents of kids in school? Somehow, since I was a child, the homework and studying and gigantic, time-consuming, creative projects have fallen – in large measure - on the laps of the parents. Why is my daughter’s poster and book report “our project?”  Why are parents making note cards and studying for hours with their kids?  Yes, we are there for love and support and help in understanding how to multiply and divide fractions, but I would argue that many of us have taken the task of “helping” our kids with their homework a little too far. One clear indication of this phenomenon is the sheer relief I hear parents uttering at the end of the school year. “Whew, we did it, another year is over, it’s summer, time to relax!” Why are we breathing a sigh of relief?  If it’s because we don’t have to prepare ...

I just finished reading "On The Island" by Tracy Garvis Graves.  It's a good book.  Written well, the story flowed, I didn't need to subconsciously edit anything, but for some minor corny lines.  But that's okay, it was part of the charm. The story is simple: a 30 year-old woman (English teacher) and a 17 year-old boy are stranded on a deserted island.  Their chartered seaplane went down en route to his family's summer vacation spot in the Maldives, where she was to be his tutor.  He recently went into remission from cancer and missed a great deal of school. I was reminded of Blue Lagoon, just add a 13 year age gap.  It was an endearing story, told succinctly and smartly.  The author didn't waste a minute of my time.  I was entertained, read the book in two days and I am happy I read it.  While the characters are familiar to me, they were not deeply developed.  But still, I really, really liked this book.  The plot was predictab...

If I were a critic for a reputable paper or magazine, my quote pulled from the review would be this: "THE LOST WIFE" is a devastating book filled with relentless beauty and grace."  The author, Alyson Richman, would be praised for managing to set a story against horrific events surrounding the Holocaust, with rich prose that somehow evokes timeless elegance and wonder. How can a book detailing some of the atrocities of the Terezin ghetto inspire the reader to imagine the limitless beauty that only art can instill? Josef and Lenka, our two narrators are young and in love at the start of World War II.  They are living in Prague, one a medical student, the other an art student.  Fearing rumors about the treatment of Jews in the surrounding areas, the two rush to marry to start their lives together.  Events occur to separate the two, and the unfolding story is told from their alternating perspectives. Sixty years pass and we learn at the outset that Lenka and Josef...

I am a runner.  Have been for a while.  I run to clear my head, keep fit and melt away any anxieties floating through my veins.  But there is a relatively new phenomenon, a source of dread and anxiety that arises during my runs: the free roaming dog. These are dogs that are sitting or walking on their own property, wearing a collar (seemingly an "electric fence" collar), alert to all that passes them by.  However, sometimes these dogs see a runner (me) in the distance and will start galloping in my direction.  And oftentimes, all I see in my peripheral vision is a dog running at me.  Until, of course, it stops short at the end of the property, to avoid the electric current I suppose. But how am I to know that the dog will stop?  Simply because it is trained to stop and doesn't want the shock or whatever terrible sensation the dog hopes to avoid, how on earth does anyone know what a dog will do every single time?  I don't trust electric fences ...

During the past week, two people said to me, “As technology evolves, what on earth do we need libraries for?  Everything we need is ONLINE .” People feel that way. They don’t understand the need for a library to overhaul its space, let alone increase its square footage.  The computer can do it all.  That’s what people say.  That’s what they think.  When you are teaching a child to read, or simply reading to a two-year old, is the iPad sufficient?  Should kids be wired from the moment they can point and click and “touch”? What about the physical book that you can no longer really touch and smell?  What about all of the senses?  Not just the visual cartoonish image on a bright screen. A library space is unthreatening, understated, welcoming and full of enriching materials. When my kids were younger, we would visit the library and take out 10 to 12 picture books at a time.  They would sit at the kitchen table and sift through them, studying ...

The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright We hardly know the main character, Gina.  Even her name doesn't sound familiar.  But her story is one we've all heard, and that many have actually experienced.  She is a "mistress" to a man (Sean) with a family.  You may note that I referred to her as "a" mistress, not "the" mistress. Gina is ordinary and non-descript.  If she's one thing, I'd say she's cynical.  But otherwise, Gina is vague compared to her co-characters who inhabit the story.  But her relationship with Sean is anything but vague.  She loves him.  Desperately at times.  The affair gradually happens; there's not much build-up and things sort of happen and we're along for the ride.  You can guess which way it goes.  Or not. It doesn't really matter much. To me what matters in this story are Anne Enright's words and how they make you feel sad and empathetic yet disconnected from the main character all at the same t...

That's how it all started.  One day, I picked up the newspaper and started to read the words that seemed tinier and blurrier than the day before.  Just one day passed and I couldn't read comfortably without extending my arms way out, holding the paper way away from me, just like old people do. Yes, old people.  So I picked up a pair of dime store eyeglasses bearing the "prescription" 1.00 (whatever that means).  But it helped immensely.  I could see again and read comfortably without the arm extension or the inevitable squinting.  Aaaahhhh. Quickly enough I progressed to a 1.25 magnification and was on my way up the aging ladder, leaping up the rungs a little too nimbly.  I started looking forward to visiting off-the-beaten-path book stores and five and tens, hoping to find a neat, quirky pair of "readers."  I've acquired a certain talent in being able to scope out stores that would sell reading glasses that didn't look like your grandmother'...

"What Alice Forgot" by Liane Moriarty A decade of experiences, happy, sad, challenging, life-altering, life-ending, would change who you are, no? Things that happen to us - shape us and our outlook - our approach. But what if you forgot a decade, misplaced it somehow, thought you and your life were ten years younger?  How would you act? Liane Moriarty addresses these questions and more in her thought-provoking new novel that invariably begs her readers to contemplate who they have become, and why.  The most important question though, to me is --- are you proud of that person. At age 39, the main character Alice Love, has an accident while exercising at her gym.  She hits her head, passes out and wakes up thinking she is 10 years younger, suffering from a severe case of amnesia. What a difference a decade can make.  Ten years earlier, Alice was over the moon in love with her new husband and expecting their first baby. Presently, a decade later, she learns th...

On vacation last week, my daughter was fully engrossed in her paperback.  She would take breaks from the dog-eared pages to cool off in the pool or swim in the waves, only to return to her lounge chair (and her book) with soggy, sandy fingers.  The book looked like it was on vacation too, with its crinkled pages sprinkled with sand. One night she brought the book with us to dinner, eager to finish the last 10 or so pages.  You see, there was a sequel waiting in the wings and she needed to get to ending.  After dinner and meandering through the hotel gift shop, my daughter realized she lost the book!  We retraced our steps but to no avail.  Finally, that evening, we stopped by the "lost and found" desk and reported her missing paperback (title and all) as well as my light cotton sweater she also left behind somewhere.  The kind lady said she would contact us if the items were found. My daughter asked if I would buy the book on my Kindle so that she ...