Thanks to my book club friend Ria, I just finished Jonathan Tropper's "This is Where I Leave You", a very funny, laugh-out-loud look at family drama and dysfunction told from the perspective of a man in the throws of marital crisis. Judd Foxman returns home to bury his father just weeks after he discovered his wife was cheating on him. His dad, an atheist randomly made a deathbed request that his 4 children and wife sit shiva for seven days (which is a full-on Jewish mourning ritual). For Judd, his siblings and nutty mom (who is a shrink), the family togetherness uncovers some hilarious childhood memories, several buried and not-so-buried hostilities and pretty touching insights. This is not a loving, supporting family -- the barbs, jabs and physical aggression (between brothers) result in a tortuous week for all, but despite the lingering hostility, biting sarcasm and critical disdain, there are glimpses of compassion that were warm and heartening to witness. Perhaps those rare moments of kindness are even more meaningful for the recipients because they don't come along at a frequent clip with this family. I liked the book a lot and whipped through each chapter (which I think covered each day of the mourning period), greedily.
The timing of the read was perfect. We just returned from a trip back east to celebrate my dad's 80th and step-mom's 75th birthdays. All I can say is that I was VERY fortunate to be raised in a happy and loving environment by two caring parents. My folks really did an amazing job of making us feel like important individual members in a big family. They recognized our strengths and weaknesses, our different personalities and vulnerabilities and parented accordingly. All five of us kids are SO, SO different, I marvel at their nimbleness. Part of the cooky Keats family for nearly 50 years now, I still bask in the warmth of my brothers' and sisters' love and appreciate all my parents did to help each of us find our way to happy and fulfilling lives.
Post Thanksgiving, I declare....I'm thankful.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Cancer & One True Thing
I'm worried about a sick friend. Her cancer seems to be getter the upper hand, but I have faith in her resolve and tenacity and pray that her team of doctors will come up with a new treatment plan that will deliver good results. Gina's proactive management of her disease and her unyielding positive spirit remind me of my mom, so these two amazing women are my inspiration for this post today.
I made the mistake of reading Anna Quindlen's One True Thing soon after Mom passed away after her 5 year battle with ovarian cancer. The activity was masochistic. I sobbed and sobbed, tears gushing as fiercely as projectile vomiting, but I just couldn't tear myself away from Quindlen's depiction of Kathy Gulden's' demise and death. It was if I hadn't experienced enough heartache watching my mom go from power woman to power patient to a frail, hollow skeleton waiting to die. I'm still haunted by the memory of Mom tearfully admitting, "I so wanted to beat this thing, now I just want it to end." That shitty disease viciously tortured my mother and painfully and ever so slowly ate her alive.
Upon reflection, I think I just needed to wallow in the horror, share it, chew on it and hover in the darkness of the mourning process and through Quindlen's novel, I got that opportunity in spades. Soon after though, I was able to move on. No, I don't credit the "read" with this personal growth. At just some random moment in time, I at last could find the "good" that came from that hideous experience. And that gave me the path to grow. In crisis, you witness the best in people. Their courage. Their strength. Their compassion. Their love. It's a phenomenon that transcends your circle of family and friends, it extends to a community that rushes in to provide comfort and support. It's powerful and touching and beautiful.
It's my competitive nature to never admit defeat and so by holding on to the tenets of the good, as detailed above, I proudly proclaim that cancer did not beat our family. Rather, my interaction with the disease taught me some powerful life lessons that have shaped the person I am today. I am strong and I have some serious resolve. Jeff is one kick-ass life partner and the two of us can handle any mess you throw our way. My children are my treasures, they always were, but I will do everything in my power to provide a happy and healthy life for them. I have an incredible family that I love and cherish. My friends feed my soul and spirit. With their support, I can accomplish anything I set my mind to do. My life is a gift and I will never take it for granted.
So cancer, up yours. Mom won. Her battle with you gave me something life-changing. And you can never, ever take that away from us.
I made the mistake of reading Anna Quindlen's One True Thing soon after Mom passed away after her 5 year battle with ovarian cancer. The activity was masochistic. I sobbed and sobbed, tears gushing as fiercely as projectile vomiting, but I just couldn't tear myself away from Quindlen's depiction of Kathy Gulden's' demise and death. It was if I hadn't experienced enough heartache watching my mom go from power woman to power patient to a frail, hollow skeleton waiting to die. I'm still haunted by the memory of Mom tearfully admitting, "I so wanted to beat this thing, now I just want it to end." That shitty disease viciously tortured my mother and painfully and ever so slowly ate her alive.
Upon reflection, I think I just needed to wallow in the horror, share it, chew on it and hover in the darkness of the mourning process and through Quindlen's novel, I got that opportunity in spades. Soon after though, I was able to move on. No, I don't credit the "read" with this personal growth. At just some random moment in time, I at last could find the "good" that came from that hideous experience. And that gave me the path to grow. In crisis, you witness the best in people. Their courage. Their strength. Their compassion. Their love. It's a phenomenon that transcends your circle of family and friends, it extends to a community that rushes in to provide comfort and support. It's powerful and touching and beautiful.
It's my competitive nature to never admit defeat and so by holding on to the tenets of the good, as detailed above, I proudly proclaim that cancer did not beat our family. Rather, my interaction with the disease taught me some powerful life lessons that have shaped the person I am today. I am strong and I have some serious resolve. Jeff is one kick-ass life partner and the two of us can handle any mess you throw our way. My children are my treasures, they always were, but I will do everything in my power to provide a happy and healthy life for them. I have an incredible family that I love and cherish. My friends feed my soul and spirit. With their support, I can accomplish anything I set my mind to do. My life is a gift and I will never take it for granted.
So cancer, up yours. Mom won. Her battle with you gave me something life-changing. And you can never, ever take that away from us.
Monday, November 15, 2010
My Addiction & Birthday Ask
My oldest memories are filled with images of my mom, dad and grandfather sitting in a chair engrossed in a book. It was my destiny to love to read. And I do. To my family's frustration, I can get so entrenched in a book that an earthquake could rumble, walls crash down around me and I'd remain oblivous, unmoved.
Yes, it's almost an addiction. True confessions: I actually mourn the completion of a book, obsessing over the story line and its characters, long after I've read the last page. My bedside stand is always cluttered with a stack of books. I only read one at a time, but I need to see the pile so that I know my next hit is there, just an arm's reach away.
I love my book group, an eclectic group of crazy smart women. Over the years we've covered assimilation in America, hunger in Haiti, class structure in India, the Plague, Napolean and Josephine, immigration nightmares, human trafficking, the Civil War, screwed up families, loving families, tales of friendship and adventure, personal growth, romance, heartache and more. I love sharing book ideas with fellow enthusiasts, discovering new treasures through their recommendations. If I had all the time in the world, I'd spend many a day walking through book stores, browsing through shelves stuffed with limitless choice and possibilities. I take great pride in my book collection -- gems I've gathered throughout my life. Yup, if it's book-related -- fiction, non-fiction, memoir, even children's stories -- I'm engaged.
To commemorate my big 5-0, I'm stealing an idea from a friend, another book-lover. I'm working to create a half century book list which I'm dubbing Cinquenta Tales and need your help pulling it together. Please tell me about your all-time favorite book -- a singular title that you deem as "the best" which I can add to my personal library. For those of you who have children I know and love, please ask them to contribute a title as well -- I'm hoping to make this as comprehensive a syllabus as possible. I promise to spend the next few years reading every book on my Cinquenta Tales list and will cherish the recommendations for an eternity.
I can't commit to preparing detailed reviews of every book in the collection, but I do plan to use this blog as a way of sharing insights or inspirations gleaned from the stories you have recommended. If you would be so kind, post your recommendation here, on my facebook page or send me your picks via email. I plan to post my full Cinquenta Tales reading list in January, after the dirty deed (turning 50) is behind me! So, stay tuned.....
Thanks and love,
Susan
Yes, it's almost an addiction. True confessions: I actually mourn the completion of a book, obsessing over the story line and its characters, long after I've read the last page. My bedside stand is always cluttered with a stack of books. I only read one at a time, but I need to see the pile so that I know my next hit is there, just an arm's reach away.
I love my book group, an eclectic group of crazy smart women. Over the years we've covered assimilation in America, hunger in Haiti, class structure in India, the Plague, Napolean and Josephine, immigration nightmares, human trafficking, the Civil War, screwed up families, loving families, tales of friendship and adventure, personal growth, romance, heartache and more. I love sharing book ideas with fellow enthusiasts, discovering new treasures through their recommendations. If I had all the time in the world, I'd spend many a day walking through book stores, browsing through shelves stuffed with limitless choice and possibilities. I take great pride in my book collection -- gems I've gathered throughout my life. Yup, if it's book-related -- fiction, non-fiction, memoir, even children's stories -- I'm engaged.
To commemorate my big 5-0, I'm stealing an idea from a friend, another book-lover. I'm working to create a half century book list which I'm dubbing Cinquenta Tales and need your help pulling it together. Please tell me about your all-time favorite book -- a singular title that you deem as "the best" which I can add to my personal library. For those of you who have children I know and love, please ask them to contribute a title as well -- I'm hoping to make this as comprehensive a syllabus as possible. I promise to spend the next few years reading every book on my Cinquenta Tales list and will cherish the recommendations for an eternity.
I can't commit to preparing detailed reviews of every book in the collection, but I do plan to use this blog as a way of sharing insights or inspirations gleaned from the stories you have recommended. If you would be so kind, post your recommendation here, on my facebook page or send me your picks via email. I plan to post my full Cinquenta Tales reading list in January, after the dirty deed (turning 50) is behind me! So, stay tuned.....
Thanks and love,
Susan
Startled and Almost 50!
We moved to California in June, 1994. Bobby was nearly 7, Julia was 4 and Audrey, just a wee three months old. That summer, while Jeff immersed himself in his job at Texas Instruments, the children and I set out to explore our new west coast environs. On one such outing, we found our way to Capitola, a small coastal town south of Santa Cruz. After the hour plus drive, the children were eager to hit the beach and in a flash, the four of us raced to the water's edge. After Julia and I gauged the temperature, which was absolutely frigid, we immediately retreated to our blankets. Bobby however, was undeterred and jumped into the waves, boogie board in hand to conquer the sea.
I stood guard, periodically checking on my son's safety. He was paddling like a madman to catch a wave. All was well. Back to Jules and Audrey. When I again checked on Bobby, my heart stopped because he wasn't where I thought he'd be. I raised my line of vision to scan further out into the water, the sense of panic creeping up on me, but with unabashed relief I found him on his board, beyond the crowd of swimmers, where the waves were rising and crashing. I whistled and gestured that he needed to paddle back closer to shore.
A few minutes passed and it became clear that Bobby was ignoring my instructions. I asked my friend to watch the girls and then stomped indignantly towards the water. I whistled again with more urgency and stared out towards my target to make sure he understood that he needed to get his skinny little butt back towards safety. As I squinted to focus on Bobby to make sure he knew I meant business, I quickly got over myself, horrified to realize the issue wasn't of insolence, but danger. The look of panic on my son's face grimly conveyed that he was in trouble.
In a micro-second, I dove head first into the freezing water. The absolute shock of the temperature hit me full force. My lungs, heart, and every internal organ in my body for that matter, gasped in response. I had to instruct my brain to ignore the icy jolt and force my arms and legs into motion. With each painful stroke, I willed myself to get to Bobby. And of course, I did. I wrapped myself around his tiny little body, held on tight to his board and kicked like crazy to move the two of us through the powerful riptide, back to shore.
What's The Point?
I tell this story because recently, I've started having deja-vu recall of the intense physical and emotional shock I experienced on that Capitola day. Thankfully, there were no life or death emergencies that triggered these memories. Rather, all of this resurfaced as I began to recognize (or admit) that soon, I'll be 50 years old. 5-0. The Big FITEE. Five Decades. The reality of "time gone by" has hit me as fiercely as those frigid waves did back in June, 1994.
Have I really been on this planet for half a century? 30 was easy. 40, a blast. But 50....I'm gasping with disbelief. I'm numb. My friends and family who've already reached this milestone will no doubt "tsk,tsk", "chuckle, chuckle" over my self-absorbed and so-cliched reaction to this "big" birthday. But for me, I'm stunned. Though let's be clear, I'm not freaked out in an oh-no, the end is near, depressed kind of way. I'm simply feeling pressed to treat this as an important milestone, an ah-ha moment to embark on a few must-do's for the second leg of my century marathon.
And this blog is Step One in that process. Not sure how pivotal a role it will play in my march to 60 (OH MY GOD -- THAT IS FREAKY TO TYPE!!!!), but it is an out-there enough exercise to force myself to stretch beyond my comfort zone. And fifty of not, pushing yourself is well, just a good thing to do.
Ta-ta.
I stood guard, periodically checking on my son's safety. He was paddling like a madman to catch a wave. All was well. Back to Jules and Audrey. When I again checked on Bobby, my heart stopped because he wasn't where I thought he'd be. I raised my line of vision to scan further out into the water, the sense of panic creeping up on me, but with unabashed relief I found him on his board, beyond the crowd of swimmers, where the waves were rising and crashing. I whistled and gestured that he needed to paddle back closer to shore.
A few minutes passed and it became clear that Bobby was ignoring my instructions. I asked my friend to watch the girls and then stomped indignantly towards the water. I whistled again with more urgency and stared out towards my target to make sure he understood that he needed to get his skinny little butt back towards safety. As I squinted to focus on Bobby to make sure he knew I meant business, I quickly got over myself, horrified to realize the issue wasn't of insolence, but danger. The look of panic on my son's face grimly conveyed that he was in trouble.
In a micro-second, I dove head first into the freezing water. The absolute shock of the temperature hit me full force. My lungs, heart, and every internal organ in my body for that matter, gasped in response. I had to instruct my brain to ignore the icy jolt and force my arms and legs into motion. With each painful stroke, I willed myself to get to Bobby. And of course, I did. I wrapped myself around his tiny little body, held on tight to his board and kicked like crazy to move the two of us through the powerful riptide, back to shore.
What's The Point?
I tell this story because recently, I've started having deja-vu recall of the intense physical and emotional shock I experienced on that Capitola day. Thankfully, there were no life or death emergencies that triggered these memories. Rather, all of this resurfaced as I began to recognize (or admit) that soon, I'll be 50 years old. 5-0. The Big FITEE. Five Decades. The reality of "time gone by" has hit me as fiercely as those frigid waves did back in June, 1994.
Have I really been on this planet for half a century? 30 was easy. 40, a blast. But 50....I'm gasping with disbelief. I'm numb. My friends and family who've already reached this milestone will no doubt "tsk,tsk", "chuckle, chuckle" over my self-absorbed and so-cliched reaction to this "big" birthday. But for me, I'm stunned. Though let's be clear, I'm not freaked out in an oh-no, the end is near, depressed kind of way. I'm simply feeling pressed to treat this as an important milestone, an ah-ha moment to embark on a few must-do's for the second leg of my century marathon.
And this blog is Step One in that process. Not sure how pivotal a role it will play in my march to 60 (OH MY GOD -- THAT IS FREAKY TO TYPE!!!!), but it is an out-there enough exercise to force myself to stretch beyond my comfort zone. And fifty of not, pushing yourself is well, just a good thing to do.
Ta-ta.
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