Kernals

Anticipating a long BART ride into the city, I went to grab a a book knowing I had nothing new. I’ll reread something. I tossed Stephen King’s On Writing into my purse. I don’t read his horror stories – or anyone else’s – I’m a wimp when in comes to bone-chilling tales. What I like about On Writing is how he combines a How-To Book with a memoir. One tip he provides is to minimize or completely avoid the use of adverbs – for dialogue, keep it to “she said,” “they said,” “he said.” I’ve heard the same  advice elsewhere but I was reminded. I haven’t gone back through my writings to cull for any miscreant adverbs but I’m hoping there aren’t too many.

King must have mentioned Hemingway as my next reread selection was A Moveable Feast. Most everyone says his writing revolutionized America’s (the world’s?) taste in fiction. If you remove the blank pages and large white spaces of this work, it’s a very short book. It took him years to write it and I don’t know why it wasn’t published for so long. Now here’s the confusing thing, in my copy of the book (Schribner paperback), on the page where it lists all of his works, Feast is listed under non-fiction.  But on the back of the title page, there is  a disclaimer that states the book is fiction “Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.” As an Irishman once said to me “Who cares if it’s true or not, was it a good story?” In this case, yes it is.

I was shocked when I reached page 96 and spotted a glaring adverb.

“I’m glad we see eye to eye,” he said manfully.

I almost laughed. Hemmingway wasn’t speaking of someone transitioning between genders or who was agender. Based on what I’ve read of him, I don’t think he ever spoke to a gay man by choice – not to imply they don’t speak “manfully” but Hem might suggest they don’t. I had to google the word so I was clear on the meaning. “bravely, boldly, courageously” What a strange word. Has anyone used it this century? How about Natasha spoke in a womanly way?

I expressed my surprise at his usage of the adverb to Mary Anne. She was silent for a moment.

“It’s Hemmingway, he must have used it on purpose.”

Mmmmmm. I guess so.

In spite of that annoyance, it was an enjoyable read – his traipsing around the world and hanging out with the now famous and the famous then folks. Too bad about his homophobia and too bad about Gertrude’s too, if what he wrote is true.

For my next reread I switched back to contemporary with Monica Wood’s When We Were the Kennedys. I love the opening line. “In Mexico Maine, where I grew up, you couldn’t find a single Mexican.” I lived in Maine for a while so I knew about Mexico. FYI there’s also towns named Paris, Rome, Norway, Denmark, Naples, Sweden, Poland, Peru, and China in Maine.

Wood’s book has a line that should be of great encouragement to writers everywhere – the last sentence on the last page. She thanks her sister saying “She made me start all over again, from a first draft that read like an appliance manual.” That Woods could take the appliance manual she had written and turn it into a prize-winning book (May Sarton Memoir Award) is quite the accomplishment. An example for us of the benefits of the writer’s motto “rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.” Or as I was told about the first draft of my manuscript “This needs a COMPLETE rewrite.”

Latest reread was Michelle Tea’s How to Grow Up- a combo memoir, and maybe unintentionally, a self-help book. Time for a queer perspective. Wonder Woman get in line behind Michelle who can tell us all how to come to our own power so we won’t need yours. The power to conjure the life that you want in every way emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Michelle’s a witchy woman, as she herself says.

Happy reading.

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Heartbreak

Last Sunday was Easter for the Orthodox. I know because my sister converted to Greek Orthodox before she got married. The Orthodox calendar seems to be more closely tied to Passover. My sister and I were raised Episcopalian, so this year, when it was Easter to me, it was now my sister’s Palm Sunday.

Most Sundays, I go to an aqua yoga class – which was cancelled on my Easter but not on my sister’s.  Here in California, there are several places where aqua yoga is offered in natural mineral water. It is something no one should miss. We call it the Church of the Healing Waters and our teacher concludes each session with “Namaste.” I’ve read it means “I bow to the divine in you” or something similar. We all put our hands together over our hearts because that is what she does. We all love her.

There is a woman in the class, let’s call her Sarah. I’d heard her say before “I’m over 90 years old and I take no medications.” (Wow! Lucky her, I’d thought). She has an accent – Eastern European it seemed – not that I have anything against that. I love accents.

She started talking and shared.

“What I say is that yesterday is history, today is a gift, and tomorrow is a mystery.”

Nice.

“That’s not original to me. I think it was Eleanor Roosevelt.

I didn’t like President Roosevelt. It’s because of him the Nazis could kill so many Jews. He did nothing, did not welcome us. Because of him, no other country did either. We had no where to flee. All, ALL,  of my relatives were murdered. When I was 14, the Nazi’s led me out to shoot me, to kill me, and I escaped.” Then she choked up. And those of us listening did too.

She said “I’m  fine. I’m fine. I am a miracle. I’ve had eight miracles.”

She let us know she didn’t want to discuss it further.

I already knew of another of her miracles. Her house and everything in it, EVERYTHING in it,  burned down a year or two ago during the California wildfires. She was unharmed. Those things in her house never mattered to her as much as her lost family did back in the homeland. She didn’t share what the other six miracles were.

Later in the day, I picked up the New York Times and read of a woman, Tatyana Lakhay,  who looked out her window in Belarus and saw people in protective suits with masks, walking around the property adjacent to where she lived. Developers were in the process of digging the foundation for luxury housing. But she knew something was wrong when she registered that she was looking at hundreds and hundreds of human bones that had been unearthed.

Last I checked, it was up to 1,214 bodies. Killed by the Nazis. Buried where no one knew. Or… where someone knew, many people knew, but never revealed. Jews were over 30% of the population in Belarus before the Nazis arrived.

If you look up Belarus on Wikipedia, it says “By the end of 1941, there were more than 5,000 troops devoted to rounding up and killing Jews.” Five Thousand. I don’t know where my classmate lived but wonder and wonder – How did she escape??? And then, how did she survive?

The US only entered the war in December 1941, after Pearl Harbor was attacked. The war had started over two years earlier.

Here in California, last Saturday, the last day of Passover, a 19 year-old gunman showed up at the Chabad of Poway and began shooting and killing.

It’s so distressing.

I don’t know what to do except write about it.

 

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