Diana's Blog: Quirky Words and Book Reviews

I met Jennie Shortridge when she was on book tour for RIDING WITH THE QUEEN, the story riffing off her years in a band. We connected right away, realizing our bond -- we're both members of the secret "Crazy Mothers Club." We members can sniff each other out, although we often claim anonymity -- we connect with each other for the purposes of healing the other, following a deep biological need to heal ourselves. Jennie adopted me, herded authors my way when I decided to timidly venture into media training, emailed me gaily at unpredictable intervals to say hello or offer a brief update.
Jennie came to Portland today, came in on the train from Seattle, came with her easy smile. We wandered through Elephant's Deli and chose healthy food -- shrimp and beans and salad, sat outside on this perfectly sunny day, and opened up the pages of our lives. Those old jarring shards of memories that are the pieces of the puzzle tangent to the one jigsaw piece we really want to see. It is why we write, to push at those edges. Without writing, without pursuing wild bursts of creativity, we might sink forever in the abyss with our mothers. Jennie and I traded stories -- and she tells me of her new book -- the manuscript due in a few months. In it, again, she explores the parent-child relationships. I look at her chin-length curly dark hair, her warm eyes, her beauty-pageant smile -- but genuine -- and feel so easy while we pull out the yards of ourselves few people see.
After two hours, I walk with her to her appointment, nearly a mile down sunny, shop-lined streets -- and we promise we will stay in closer touch. Sisters now.

Labels: crazy, Jennie Shortridge, mothers, writing

I have this peculiar sense of timing. Like today. I had received an email from Brad Meltzer three weeks ago asking if I wouldn't mind if his publicist sent me some of his material. Mind? I love this guy! He is so kind. So, I said to send it on. But nothing came and nothing came. So today I emailed him, asking if the publicist would be sending the material -- I didn't want to miss out on an opportunity to possibly help him. Two hours later, the FedEx man puts a package from Kim From LA in my hands -- an advanced review copy of Brad's latest book.

The pub date is September. It's called THE BOOK OF LIES. I recall what Brad told me during our latest phone call -- it's about Superman, the real origin of Superman. Clark Kent, actually. And during my visit to Florida -- about a year ago -- he and his wife Cori and I got together for a few hours. He asked me what was it like to not see family for years and years. That was my situation. It was a medical visit -- and happened to be where my brother and half-sister, mother and step-father lived. Lightning storms ripped open the skies, as my siblings and I dashed for cover in a deli. It was the first time we'd seen each other since my children were the age my sister's was -- her little boy was four. It had been many, many years. My sister looked at me, and in her heavy New Jersey accent said "Oh my gaw-ahd! You have no wrin-kuls. How come you got no wrin-kuls?" I laughed. She's seven years younger. My brother is two years younger than me. We all look younger than our years; and we all look the same age. It's genetics. Our grandmother worked as a the top RN at Lenox Hill Hospital in NY for decades until they finally forced her to retire at age 67. Except that she was 78.
What was it like to see them after all those years. I told Brad it was frightening. I felt out of place. Not sure where to connect. Thankful my stepfather and his violent temper refused to see me; thankful that my mother and her constant enjoyment of liquid refreshments refused to acknowledge me. But sad they won't step into the arena. So there are lies. When you go back, everyone has his or her own truth. My brother and half-sister and I are sewn together in a web of deceit of our parents' making. What is true? My mother trims faces out of photographs to recast the past. I became a journalist to chase down the truth. Jerry Siegel created Superman to avenge his own father's murder during a store robbery. And Brad Meltzer takes his role as an outsider -- how he felt as a boy -- and creates magnificent fiction that draws us in.

Labels: Brad Meltzer, family, Superman, The Book of Lies

My friends generally don't give me books -- they know that through my career I will receive most books worthy of being read. But on my birthday yesterday -- July 28th -- Grainne presented me with a book I truly wanted in my hands, but it hadn't happened until then. The gaily-wrapped book is THE LAST LECTURE by Randy Pausch, who sadly passed on a few days ago, leaving millions who had viewed his lecture on Oprah and through links via emails in tears. His courage -- knowing he would be leaving this world soon, leaving his wife, leaving his three small children -- was palpable. His earnest desire to allow his impending death to be exquisitely public that we -- and his children -- may receive meaning -- was beyond powerful. It was authentic. Pausch was authentic. I remember watching him on my computer monitor doing one-handed push-ups -- how could this vital man be sick, let alone dying? He lived every moment of his remaining days -- how many days, we only knew that they were not many -- with every sense heightened to the rarest of calibrations. His integrity shows up in the book when a police officer pulls him over for speeding, and he tells the officer the awful truth. Doubt in the officer's eyes, Pausch pulls up his shirt to expose his scars, and doubt is replaced by stern realization. The officer lets him off with a warning. The terrible truth will set you free, Pausch says. He pursues every drop of his remaining life with a fierce passion.

Maybe Pausch's raw human emotion is in the same vibration that has made A CHORUS LINE a tremendous, long-running hit. I saw the show tonight -- that's why I'm writing late -- I began writing on the 29th, and it is the wee hours now. I saw the show for at least the third time. I took Andrew -- whom I met at K-Lite and spent every morning from 4am on, shares the same birthday, but a vastly different year. He is a good friend; a fabulous escort. It is important I find the right person to share my free tickets with -- a gift from another friend in the radio biz. And Andrew is happy to celebrate our birthday this way, a day after.
I saw A CHORUS LINE when I was a teenager in New York City -- the Schubert Theatre if I remember correctly. I got the tee-shirt -- black, cap-sleeves. I saw the show again in Chicago when I moved to Iowa. I got the tee-shirt -- a pale yellow shirt that faded and had to let it go, too, when it became too worn. And tonight, the show in Portland -- watching it as an adult. Got the tee-shirt -- a spaghetti-strapped tank with gold sparkles on the lettering. Perfect for a Leo.
The show is about Passion -- What I Did for Love. I love to dance, and the freedom in dance has actually visited me very recently, just this past year. Joy! And I have a passion for being on the air, and for writing. I show up with my passion and walk into a space where I let viewers, readers, listeners in -- as purely as possible. It is what I love about the show -- talented dancers who want to truly be seen, and they become fabulous when they drop their fears. They show up as they really are, and everyone in the audience silently roots for them, rooting really for the silent passion packed inside their own beings. It takes a lot of courage to show up, and leave any excuses, the constricting past, the raw desire to be chosen on the floor. And it is an imperfect pursuit.
I was in college, thinking about that first real job I would have, the first time I saw the show. The second time, I was working in TV -- I named a file folder "What I Did For Love" and I stuffed into it every story I wrote. And now I am in all media, but over the years, I would sing -- when I was alone -- the lyrics "PLAY ME THE MUSIC,GIVE ME A CHANCE TO COME THROUGH. ALL I EVER NEEDED WAS THE MUSIC, AND THE MIRROR,AND THE CHANCE TO DANCE FOR YOU." I am still open to that chance, but graceful, not grasping, which makes Today quite lovely. "KISS TODAY GOODBYE, AND POINT ME TO TOMORROW."
It is tomorrow, and I will fall asleep soon, my own passions renewed.

Labels: A CHORUS LINE, dance, Passion, radio, Randy Pausch, THE LAST LECTURE

It's my birthday today....the waning hours...and birthdays are perfect days to begin anew. So. Today, I pledge to blog every day, with the intention of focusing on one of the many books that cross my path as an author interviewer and book reviewer. Put through my personal filter -- not my intellectual one. I recognized early in my life that books saved me. Later I "happened" into interviewing authors. As you know, there are no accidents. I consider these experiences rich gifts that I am fortunate enough to share. To make this promise of a daily blog requires a great deal of courage on my part. Vulnerability. I begin with a book tomorrow. For now, I want to reflect on the difference a day makes.
This birthday morning, I decided to accept Steff's invitation to join her in her yoga class outdoors on Bull Mt at six o'clock. I journaled for about ten-minutes -- I journal every morning no matter what time I get up. Then I drove toward the rising sun, and unexpected blue skies -- cloudy skies had been forecast -- the thumbnail of the moon still apparent amidst thin white clouds. And Steff and her husband Tony were the only ones there. It was a beautiful experience. While my favorite movement is dance -- hiphop, step, Groove, anything! -- and I lift weights -- this was a delightful departure from my routine. Sunrise yoga -- I was actually flexible, and I liked it! Then I picked up my son and he made me birthday breakfast at home -- omelette with broccoli and cheese. Victoria's Secret and Black and White had gifted me big coupons, so I dashed to the mall for 45-minutes, buying a couple of bras, got a free string-thong at VS, then at B&W bought a killer dress, sweater, earrings for $101. Time for a nearly three-hour lunch at Meriweather's on Vaughn with Karen -- we've been doing birthday lunches for nineteen years now -- her birthday is in January; mine is in July. A perfect way to ensure we stay connected. Off to drinks with another friend -- sparkling water for me (since I don't drink.) Then to a networking party at Heartspark -- responsible this past year for emphasizing the positive patterns in my life. And finally dinner at McCormick's with my buddy and boss Bob -- crab legs, the best! Thank you, my friends -- and all you who wrote on my wall, posted messages and emailed Happy Birthday greetings. I am SO blessed! That is what life is, after all -- sharing our open hearts with the people we know, and risking vulnerability to be as close as we can bear. Loss is a certainty, so is change. But guaranteed, new friends wash in on the next tide, sunnier than the last.
I almost don't want to go to bed...but I'm going to tease this fabulous birthday out until the clock strikes midnight and a new day dawns. I've spent the year, not just emphasizing positive patterns, but also excavating old limiting patterns. I feel free. Joyous. Natural. And I dance and write and sing the magic!
See you tomorrow -- thanks for a magnificent day!

Labels: birthday, friendship, Heartspark, joyous, yoga