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My favorite book of the year was The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris. After the Emancipation Proclamation, two brothers find work on a Georgia farm but the community is not as open-minded as their landowner employer. Conflict ensues as the brothers continue to struggle for freedom. This novel has gorgeous prose, memorable characters, and a beautiful ending. A close second was Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell. Set in late 16th century England, a Latin tutor and his unusually talented wife deal with the effects of the Black Plague on their marriage and family. Also beautifully written with a memorable ending. Other notable fiction I enjoyed include: We Begin at the End by Chris Whitaker Anxious People by Fredrik Backman The Book of Lost Names by Kristin Harmel The Yellow Bird Sings by Jennifer Rosner The Exiles by Christina Baker Kline Her Last Flight by Beatriz Williams The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles Favorite non-fiction & inspiration: Taste (My Life Through Food) by Stanley Tucci. A  fun read, especially if you watched his CNN series traveling throughout Italy on gastronomical adventures. While reading the book, I could hear Tucci’s distinctive voice. Incidental Inventions by Elena Ferrante. A year’s worth of personal essays originally published in The Guardian. I love everything written by this reclusive, talented author. Devotions by Mary Oliver. The poet curated this final collection of her favorite poems. It makes a calming bedside companion. The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. My mother introduced this book to me decades ago. It was a sort of bible to her and I see why. I’ve read it several times and, like she did, I keep it on my nightstand. What was your favorite book of the year? Happy reading and Happy New Year!

Hello sunny skies and warmer weather! The dogwood and magnolia trees planted three summers ago are budding – a perfect sign for the season of renewal.

I’m eager to plant annuals and transplant some perennials. My peonies will burst soon and they’ll need more room. After hours of toiling with a spade, I’ll be lulled to rest on the back porch by the tinkling of the garden fountain and wind chimes. 

I think of my mother while gardening. She said she felt closest to God when on her knees digging in soil. She nurtured hollyhocks, hens and chicks, begonias, impatiens, and more.

Mom appreciated nature’s beauty and hard work. Having grown up during the Depression, she was an industrious and focused woman who frequently told me to “be productive.”

In recognition of my mother and National Poetry Month, here’s a fitting piece by Edgar Guest.

Results and Roses

The man who wants a garden fair,
Or small or very big,
With flowers growing here and there,
Must bend his back and dig.

The things are mighty few on earth
That wishes can attain.
Whate’er we want of any worth
We’ve got to work to gain.

It matters not what goal you seek
Its secret here reposes:
You’ve got to dig from week to week
To get Results or Roses.

How will you describe life before the coronavirus pandemic to your children and grandchildren? This older brother does a masterful job in a poetic bedtime story and offers hope for the future. Be well and stay safe, my friends.  

Sharing words of inspiration during our time at home in April, National Poetry Month.

The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

You never know where an angel may appear. I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d get for my memoir, Jimmy and Me. After publication, I spent a year promoting the book at local events and libraries and attending book club meetings. My friend Peggy graciously hosted me at her book club near the town in Pennsylvania where I grew up. The 20 members gave me a warm reception and asked insightful questions. A couple of months later, one member named Ginny contacted me to say she was an avid Philadelphia Flyers fan just like my dear brother Jimmy who has special needs. She asked for his address and said she wanted to send him hockey swag. Shortly thereafter, Jimmy opened a box filled with Flyers t-shirts, hats, a signed puck, a variety of other goodies, and a personal note from Ginny. He called me to share his excitement and expressed a sense of wonder that someone he’s never met sent gifts related to his beloved Flyers. I’m still in awe of the kindness of someone who came to know Jimmy only by reading about him. Never did I imagine my words would impact a reader who’d feel an urge to do something to bring my brother joy in his mid-60s. Ginny’s selfless act reminds me why writing the book was worthwhile and it far surpasses any public recognition I could receive.  

Imagine going to college without worrying about term papers or exams. You can do it like I did recently at One Day University. Colleges around the country host professors from premier universities to speak about science, literature, history, art, and many other subjects. These award-winning professors consistently garner the highest ratings by students. I attended a 4-hour program at Tufts University titled “A Day of Genius.” Three dynamic and captivating professors spoke about:

• The Scientific Genius of Marie Curie
• The Restless Genius of Benjamin Franklin
• The Literary Genius of Shakespeare

The lectures were informational and entertaining and left me feeling energized. If you seek educational enrichment, consider going to college for a day in a nearby city.

This year marks the 30th anniversary of Best Buddies International, a remarkable organization that unites volunteers and individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD) for one-on-one friendships. Their mission is to promote inclusive living through advocacy, employment, and personal and social relationships. My daughters became Best Buddies in high school because they were inspired by the unique abilities of their uncle. Now in their twenties, I admire the compassion and patience they have for people with different abilities, and especially for my brother who enriches our family every day. Whether we’re working on a jigsaw puzzle together or chatting about golf, Jimmy reminds me how lucky I am to be his sister. There are plenty of ways to get involved with Best Buddies. Find a program near you.

Reading literature is “an exercise in empathy,” says Sofia Segovia, author of The Murmur of Bees. This rang true for me while reading the novel. The setting is early 20th century Mexico during the Mexican Revolution. A wealthy landowner and his family struggle with the Spanish flu pandemic and civil war while trying to protect their land. When they rescue a baby boy abandoned at birth, they see past his facial deformities to his unique abilities that inspire and help the family. Beautifully written (although at times a bit slow) here are passages where I empathized the most. “In her world, a woman took her parents’ home with her wherever she went: to school, on a foreign voyage, on honeymoon, to bed with her husband, to the birth of her child, to the table each day to teach her children good posture and good manners, and–she believed–she would even take them to her deathbed. In her world, a woman never left her parents behind, even when the parents left her.” “ . . . you leave a place or say goodbye to someone, and thereafter, you feel the existence you have left behind is frozen by your absence.” ” . . . she would never lose the now-gentler grief that she felt at her father’s absence.” “At my age, one realizes that time is a cruel and fickle master, for the more you want it, the faster it appears to vanish, and vice versa: the more you want to escape it, the more stagnant it becomes.” “I didn’t see the defect or any reason to be shocked. I saw only my brother, and I loved him.” “The empty hours of the night do not pass unnoticed, because in their unrelenting cruelty, they do not allow one to rest; they force one to think, and they demand a great deal. Because it is at night that fear is most frightening, yes, but it is also when sorrow becomes deeper and one regrets what one did or did not do more. It is in the deepest darkness that one sees things most clearly.” “Contrary to what I had believed, what I came searching for isn’t here, strewn among these ashlar stones. It was never here, because it was always in me . . . “ ” . . . he reminded me how important it was to listen. To listen to what life sometimes murmurs into your ear, heart, or gut.” Thank you, Sofia Segovia.

My mother had a sweet, funny neighbor named Theresa who’d regularly cross the yard and enter our house through the back door calling “Ro!” in a singsong voice. They’d sit at the kitchen table and talk, whisper, and laugh for hours over several cups of coffee and a few cigarettes. Occasionally, I’d see Theresa pound her fist and drop her head on the table in a fit of giggles. I’d get a snack and leave, hoping to have a rich friendship like theirs someday. When I became their age, my neighbor Ellen might be outside first waiting for me in her driveway across the street. For 22 years we regularly walked a three-mile loop around the neighborhood. In every season we hoofed it side by side, bundled in winter gear, carrying an umbrella, or wearing shorts, a favorite t-shirt, and baseball cap. As a self-appointed beautification committee, we decided which house needed painting or a new roof and whose plantings looked lovely. We consulted each other on our own home improvement projects. What color should she paint her front door? Which curtain rods looked better in my master bedroom? Topics of conversation marked life phases: careers, growing children, the school system, menopause, retirement, and caring for aging parents. I saw Ellen teary-eyed when her son left for college, shared her joy planning his wedding, and gushed over photos of her adorable granddaughter. Ellen cheered for my two daughters, too. She rejoiced in all their accomplishments, attending graduations and visiting first apartments. She particularly delighted in their fashions. She’d jog over when spotting them emerge from the car or leave the house all dressed up and give her signature “Darling!” When my elder daughter’s delicate high school years coincided with my mother’s failing health and my stress level rose to an all-time high, Ellen was there. My daughter would cross the street and soon I’d see the light on in Ellen’s living room. Ellen, a retired high school principal, patiently listened to and counseled her. I never resented this. Rather, I was grateful to have Ellen part of my village, helping my daughter cope through rough waters. She became a second mother. One tender time that stays with me occurred after my mother died. Ellen helped both teenagers pack for the funeral while I was away in New Jersey planning it. A week later she hosted my family for Thanksgiving dinner when I was still numb. Recently, Ellen comforted me while I sobbed on her couch during my father’s final days. Besides stories about our children and parents, we related tales about our fun-loving and sometimes annoying husbands and siblings. She’d make a witty remark and I’d stop in my tracks, bend over in laughter, and slap my thighs. After three miles, we’d go for coffee, taking turns driving to a local café. There, sweaty and exuberant, we’d gab for another hour. Back home, I’d see Ellen adorn her front door with seasonal wreaths, a Halloween witch, and winter skater boy. Whenever on vacation, we’d collect each other’s mail and newspapers and retrieve box deliveries. I knew Ellen was home when I saw the outline of her Toyota through the windows on the side of the garage. Then I’d frequently go over with a batch of soup, cookies, or leftovers. Ellen didn’t cook much. In her youth, she swam competitively and played tennis. I grew up with a dust rag in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. Last year Ellen told me she was moving. She and her husband wanted one-story living and were done with lawn care. It pained me to see the “Sold” sign on their front lawn. I miss waving to my good friend. I miss seeing her car pull in and out of the driveway. Mostly, I miss our walks and hearing her call my name when coming through the back door to chat.

On the second page of my college yearbook, a classmate stands in front of the Villanova University sign with his arms raised. The caption reads, “We Are the Champions!” In 1979, Freddie Mercury belted out the anthem in defiant confidence as my friends and I danced and celebrated our final days on campus. We didn’t know what was in store for us as we headed out in different directions from the revered campus. We didn’t know we’d become champions and leaders in business, education, healthcare, government, and the law. We built careers on our high-quality education and promised to lead lives on faith-based ideals. At our recent 40-year reunion, one friend put it simply: “We still have the same personalities as we did when we were in college.” Thank you Villanova for paving the way to lifelong learning and lifelong friendships.

IGNITE CHANGE. GO NOVA.

My mother gave my daughters The Best-Loved Poems of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis when they were in their early teen years. She sought to inspire them with beautiful words that would lift their spirit. Choose a collection of poetry that will enlighten you during National Poetry Month because April is the season of new beginnings.

Sea Joy

by Jacqueline Bouvier (1939)

When I go down by the sandy shore I can think of nothing I want more Than to live by the booming blue sea As the seagulls flutter round about me

I can run about–when the tide is out With the wind and the sand and the sea all about And the seagulls are swirling and diving for fish Oh–to live by the sea is my only wish.

  Photo: Chatham, MA

I could feel the camaraderie among the women who invited me to their book club meeting last week to discuss Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir. Their warm reception for my personal story made me feel deep gratitude. Before I sat down, some said they felt they already knew me. One woman surprised me when she said she was familiar with the arcane therapeutic exercise known as patterning described in chapter two. Another said she frequently related to the loss of childhood I experienced because she lost her mother at age 10 and had to care for six younger siblings. Several women nostalgically remarked about the 1960-70s culture referenced in the book. We shared laughs and many head nods of familiarity about our family members. These caring, intelligent women reminded me why I wrote the book: because every family has a story. You will find a way to relate, too. Invite me to your book club. Contact me to arrange a date and I’ll attend personally or via FaceTime.

Historical fiction, literary fiction, and nonfiction are still the books I enjoy most. If you liked All the Light We Cannot See (one of my all-time favorites), you will like: The Paris Architect by Charles Belfoure (now another all-time favorite) and Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark Sullivan The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah. The author of The Nightingale delivers another compelling story with a strong female protagonist. Pachinko by Min Jin Lee. A gripping family saga about China/Korea relations in the early 1900s. Published a long time ago, Pat Conroy’s The Prince of Tides and The Water Is Wide Having visited the low country of South Carolina made these stories vivid. Educated by Tara Westover. Any memoir about a woman overcoming odds gets my vote. Eunice by Eileen McNamara. I met the author at a local library where she signed my copy about this pioneering Kennedy. Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman. Quirky and fun with a twist at the end. Morningstar by Ann Hood. I related to this easy read about classic books that influenced the novelist. What was your favorite book this year?

I received an early Christmas gift with the judge’s reviews of my books that were entered in the Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards Contest. Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir The author boldly, vulnerably shares what it is like to have a brother who is intellectually disabled. Her account is a warm, honest, raw, eye opening account of the effects her role as caregiver had on her as a child and as an adult. This duel timeframe gives the book a narrative richness but also a richness of insight for others who have lived through similar experiences. The opening scene showcases just how difficult and complicated this kind of life story can be, but the narrative overall brims with love, hope, and compassion. Alongside the story of her relationship with her brother, the author gives compelling insight into how to build and craft a sense of self when one’s identity is so closely linked with someone else. The pace of the narrative is smooth and swift, transitioning well between different time periods and themes. The narrative arc is strong even as the author embraces the complexity and open ended nature of a true life story. The story balances realistic dialogue along with exposition and summary to keep the story moving and give the narrative texture. For others in similar situations, her voice is a gift and a light. The cover photo aptly conveys the warmth and theme of the book. Musing Off the Mat – memories and everyday moments The author shares her life—her family, her hobbies, her positive world view—through a series of essays. The essays are uniquely the author’s, but themes of home, food, and family make it easy to relate to and feel connected with the author. The author’s voice is clear and brimming with personality, humor, and compassion. Not only does the author invite others into her life, but she also invites her audience to look at their own lives differently, with fresh eyes. The stories demonstrate a keen eye for detail and emotion, without being bogged down with description or sentimentality. The varying lengths of the pieces makes it easy to dive in and out of the book and hop around to different topics. The loose thematic organization gives the book just enough structure to hold it together without bogging it down. While the essays are focused on the author and her experiences, they also demonstrate a strong empathy for and attention to other people. The cover image aptly captures the tone and content of the book, and it has a very personal feel without making the book seem unprofessional or like a scrapbook. Buy the books for your Secret Santa, Yankee Swap, or use as stocking stuffers. Because “every family has a story.”

I was glad to see old friends and meet new readers who were interested in learning about my books at the Chelmsford Public Library. Some purchased for their own reading pleasure and others bought for holiday gifts. At the end of the author event, a 16-year-old timidly approached my table. The young man worked at the library and said he’d come across my memoir in the stacks but was not allowed to read while on the job. He said he’d read the first few pages, was intrigued, and decided to check it out of the library. Then he asked me thought-provoking questions about my story. I was touched by this unlikely reader. Here was a shy young teen who could have stopped at any author table to read about what I assumed interest teens: paranormal, fantasy, science fiction. However, this gentle soul told me he wanted to learn about the history of people who have been marginalized in society. As I left the library, I felt flattered to see the inspiring young man carrying my book. He reminded me of a lesson learned long ago and is worth repeating: never judge a book by its cover.

Recently I was interviewed by Danvers Community TV about my memoir, Jimmy and Me. (Start at 1:30.) This family story will resonate with many readers: people who grew up in the 1960s and 1970s, siblings of individuals with intellectual disabilities, mothers, Italians, educators, health care professionals, and more. Jimmy and Me and my essay collection, Musing Off the Mat, are available on Amazon. These books make great gifts for yourself, as a stocking stuffer, or a Yankee Swap.

Whenever I read a good book, I have to share. Here are a few that I enjoyed so far this summer. Maybe you’ll like them, too. The Paris Architect by Charles Belfoure In the early 1940s, a wealthy French industrialist commissions an architect to design hiding places for Jews inside palatial homes around Paris. Great characters, plot, and subplots. How far would you go to save your neighbor? The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah A story of survival about a young girl who moves to the Alaskan bush with her crazy father and submissive mother. Rich description of the beauty and brutality of Alaska. Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman A reclusive British woman with an unfortunate past and a quirky personality finds friendship in unlikely places. Comical scenes and dialogue, with a twist at the end. Educated by Tara Westover Memoir about a young girl living with a dysfunctional family in isolated Idaho. Without any formal education or socialization, she rises to earn a PhD from Cambridge University. This is a story of courage and survival. What books do you recommend?

An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy. “It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil — he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego. The other is good — he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you — and inside every person, too.” The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?” The old chief simply replied, “The one you feed.”

“Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”    – Eunice Shriver

Today marks the 50th anniversary of Special Olympics. In recognition of this milestone, proceeds from the sale of Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir (July 17-21) will be donated to this magnificent organization. Purchase your book here and be part of the #inclusion revolution.   

If you want to read about a relentless woman who was ahead of her time, read Eunice, The Kennedy Who Changed the World by Pulitzer-prize winner Eileen McNamara. I remember my mother telling me that she credited Mrs. Shriver for single-handedly changing the world for people like my brother. This is mentioned in my book, Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir.  Like many people, I knew that Eunice created Special Olympics but I did not know she was a tireless advocate for incarcerated women, pregnant teens, juvenile delinquents, and other citizens who were marginalized decades ago. Most notably, you’ll read about her inexhaustible drive to bring individuals with intellectual disabilities out from the shadows of society. She lobbied her brother, President John F. Kennedy, for legislation to support these special citizens. Less than a month before his assassination in 1963, he signed the Maternal and Child Health and Mental Retardation Planning Amendment to the Social Security Act, which would grant $265 million in federal aid. In the four decades after the death of JFK, Eunice would successfully lobby countless members of Congress and business executives to finance educational, vocational, and recreational programs for individuals with intellectual disabilities. She simply would not take no for an answer. The biography details Eunice’s early life at a convent school, college years at Stanford, her work at the State Department, and copious travels abroad. It describes the relationships with her parents, siblings, husband, and children, and her devotion to the Catholic faith (she considered becoming a nun). Eunice was a force of nature. I admire her even more after reading this book.

Recently, I was interviewed by a local TV station about my books, Musing Off the Mat and Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir. Take a look! You can purchase the books on Amazon or BN.com. I really enjoy book club meetings, so contact me to arrange a date. Happy Summer! Happy Reading!  

In recognition of National Poetry Month, I perused my mother’s 7th grade poetry book that she never returned to the nuns in 1943. She clearly loved the tattered brown volume filled with her notes and dog-eared pages. This poem reminds us how a simple moment can remain in our memory for a lifetime. It’s the premise of my essay collection titled Musing Off the Mat – memories and everyday moments.

Memory

My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, And yet recalls the very hour — ‘Twas noon by yonder village tower, And on the last blue noon in May — The wind came briskly up this way, Crisping the brook beside the road; Then, pausing here, set down its load Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

                                              – Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Take time to read poetry. It will comfort you.

I’ve always been a big fan of small stores. They’re cozy. You can see and reach everything easily. You get personalized service. And you’re happy to support owners who work their tails off. As a new author, I’ve found small businesses welcoming. Here are a few that sell Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir and Musing Off the Mat – memories & everyday moments. Helen Thomas Simply Smashing gift shop on Main Street in Andover, MA. Owner Lisa supports local artisans, especially women entrepreneurs. Books, jewelry, artwork, and home decor are tasteful and personalized. West Village Provisions is the Cheers bar in the bucolic town of Boxford, MA. Owners Kim and Mike have created a strong sense of community in their store. Go for a snack or lunch, pick up groceries, eclectic gifts, and books. I AM Books is an Italian American shop in the heart of historic Boston. Owner Nicola offers unique books, gifts, and neighborhood activity including Italian language lessons. Jabberwocky bookshop, in the quaint coastal town of Newburyport, MA, has been selling books for 44 years. Owner Sue has an extensive collection, a knowledgeable staff, and hosts frequent author talks. BookEnds in lovely Winchester, MA offers a wide array of well-displayed books as well as gifts, cards, and music. Things A Drift on beautiful Long Beach Island, NJ is an active member its community. Owner Cheryl offers all things nautical, home decor, jewelry, books, and more, all in a fun little shop that will lift your spirits. Support your local merchants!

Spread the word to end the word. Today is the national day to show respect to individuals with special needs. When I was a child, I heard the derogatory and insulting word “retarded” too often. It was directed to my brother (and to me as “the retard’s sister”) on the playground, in school corridors, and in other public places. Decades later, I heard it with derisive laughter from “professional” adults in business settings. To this day, it still pains me to hear such hurtful language. I pledge #Respect through my words & actions. Will you? Pledge now to create communities of inclusion for people with intellectual disabilities. r-word.org Remember: the only “R” word for citizens with intellectual and developmental disabilities is RESPECT.

It’s week 3 of my “Ditch It” program. Now that the nest is empty, I’ve decided to get rid of one large item a week. This week’s item from the basement, aka the warehouse: an Ikea chair. “Mom, you’ve been trying to pawn off that chair for years,” said my daughter. “No one wants it.” She’s right. Although I donate to the local thrift shop and consign items seasonally, some things should just go to the curb. Such as the upright Hoover vacuum cleaner I bought for my first apartment in 1982. It’s been in my husband’s workshop serving as a hook for his “yard clothes.” Gone! Or the 30-year-old bicycle hanging in the garage. Its handlebars have held the heavy duty outdoor extension cord for at least a decade. Vamoose! I’m feeling lighter already . . . and scouring the basement for next week’s relic.

The house feels tilted. I sense it more at night and early morning because no one sleeps in the bedrooms across the hall. The doors remain open and the bed covers stay evenly spread. My daughter moved out a few months ago. (Her sister had moved out a year earlier, so the nest is completely empty now.) She’d been talking about it for a while, but living at home for couple more years had its benefits: the ability to save more money, her own bathroom, a fully stocked kitchen, private parking, central air, and easy access to laundry facilities, to name a few. Her bedroom is unadorned. She did, however, leave her large out-of-season wardrobe in the closet. I see fewer TJMaxx bags around the house and fewer boxes from retailers at the front door. There’s no daily fashion show anymore. The answer to “Is that new?” was always, “Oh, I bought this a while ago.” The phone doesn’t ring at 5:00 p.m. with her asking, “Do you want me to pick up anything on my way home?” (Code for “What’s for dinner?”) No longer do I hear the sound of a high-pitched beep when she locks her car. I miss the jingle of keys at the front door and her upbeat, sing-song “Hello?” when she arrived home. Gone is the sound of high heels clacking upstairs while she prepared for a night out. (I’d have to turn up the volume to hear Alex Trebek on Jeopardy!) Her signature laugh doesn’t echo throughout the house, especially when she’d talk on the phone with a muffled voice in another room. On Sunday nights, the kitchen island is clear where she used to prepare a week’s worth of salad lunches with an assembly line of reusable containers. I don’t need to move her empty insulated lunch bag on the counter when pouring my morning coffee. Nor do I collect half-empty water bottles throughout the house. Edamame, Special K protein shakes, and Halo Top ice cream have vanished from the fridge and pantry. So have the occasional doggie bags. The dishwasher doesn’t run as frequently. And I expect the water bill to be reduced now that she’s not showering up to three times a day. The dining room appears stark. She’d claimed it as her office, filling it with a laptop (whose cord I had to step over whenever passing by), stacks of neatly piled papers, stationery and supplies, tote bags, and up to four pairs of sneakers, lined in a row. When I close a book and turn off the light in my bedroom, I don’t hear the hum of the clothes dryer and wonder when she’ll finish her laundry. A floral whiff of her perfume no longer scents the air before she hugs me and says, “Bye! Love you!” She still gets mail here. It gives me an excuse to go into her room and place it on her dresser. Other times, I simply stand in the doorway of her and her sister’s bedrooms and stare, like I did when they were away at college. I think about my young daughters under the covers where I knew they were safe and warm. And then I wonder what they’re doing and pray for their safety. I purposely refer to their living quarters as their apartment, because this will always be home. At only a 40-minute-drive away, they fly in and out of the nest. They haven’t cut a cord. They’ve simply stretched our elastic bond. And when they both decide to stay the night, the house feels balanced again. My husband and I have shifted our seats at the dinner table. We sit in our daughters’ designated seats now. Even though the arrangement feels lopsided, it makes us feel closer to them.

What a fun time in Boston last Saturday night. I AM Books, a unique bookstore in the heart of the North End, hosted me for a book event. I was thrilled to read and discuss Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir.  Libri e famiglia. Two of my favorite things. The story about my family was warmly received in this friendly shop. Stop by I AM Books, an Italian American cultural hub of Boston, and pick up a copy of my book. You’ll laugh, cry, and nod your head in agreement. Grazie Nicola and Sabrina!

Bring a friend and join me for a book discussion about Jimmy and Me, A Sister’s Memoir. This is a relatable family story that will particularly appeal to parents, siblings, teachers, and caregivers of special needs children. Hope to see you! Thursday, January 11 at 7:00pm Tewksbury Public Library 300 Chandler St., Tewksbury, MA Saturday, January 20 at 6:00pm I AM Books 189 North St., Boston (across from the Paul Revere House)

Here’s a list of memorable books I read this year. Maybe you’ll enjoy one or two. Fiction Mercury by Margot Livesey – if you love horses and family drama The Woman on the Stairs by Bernhard Schlink – if you appreciate art and intrigue A Piece of the World by Christina Baker Kline – if you appreciate art and the Maine coast A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman – if you’re patient and like quirky characters If you’re wondering what really happened and who’s involved: The Dinner by Herman Koch The Couple Next Door by Shari LaPena The Woman in Cabin 10 by Ruth Ware South of Broad by Pat Conroy – for fans of Conroy, his characters, and Charleston The Stars Are Fire by Anita Shreve – one of Shreve’s better novels with a strong female protagonist Love and Other Consolation Prizes by Jamie Ford – historical fiction set among 1909 Seattle World’s Fair The Garden of Small Beginnings by Abbi Waxman – endearing story about unlikely relationships Nonfiction Rosemary by Kate Clifford Larson – eye-opening story about the hidden Kennedy daughter Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance – growing up poor in the Rust Belt Ma Speaks Up by Marianne Leone – if you relate to the loving and demonstrative Italian way of life What book do you recommend?

Post-it notes, color markers, index cards, notebooks, flip charts, Excel spreadsheets. I used all of them and more to write a book. What started out as an essay in a one-day seminar eight years ago grew into a memoir. I read lots of memoirs, studied books at Barnes & Noble, indie bookstores, and on my own shelves. I called my sisters to verify family facts. “Do you remember . . . ?” and “When did we . . . ?” I bought easel-size paper and wallpapered my writing room. I moved a rainbow of 3×3 sticky notes up, down, and across. I asked people to read the first page and clunky, raw versions that I thought were complete. How embarrassing! I was over-eager, and prematurely sent out query letters thinking I could land an agent. Who wouldn’t want to represent me? I had a unique story, didn’t I? Then I met Chris who said, “You have to deliver the goods. Dig deeper.” So I took his sage advice and sat on the floor of my writing room to make myself physically uncomfortable. I spit out pages of difficult scenes or “islands of memoir,” suggested by William Zinsser in Writing About Your Life. I spread pages in neat columns on the floor, stood up, noticed themes and color-coded them. I laid pages on the kitchen island for another view. Then I took scissors and cut up paragraphs to rearrange them. Back at the computer, I deleted sections large and small and moved them into a file titled “Lost pieces of manuscript.” I’d wake in the middle of the night and think of a better word to use in a specific sentence. I’d reach for a notepad on the nightstand and scribble words before losing the thought. I met with Kathy who would critique sections and pose question after question. She patiently took my calls that were filled with self-doubt and she nudged me forward. I eliminated chapter titles and felt immediate freedom. I secluded myself in the rotunda of my local library where not even a bottle of water is allowed. I asked Mary and Bridget and Martha to read the manuscript and met with each of them for feedback. And all the while, I asked, “Why am I doing this?” One voice said, “No one cares. This is junk.” Yet another voice whispered, “Keep going, Joyce.” I read it and read it and read it, with a pencil in one hand and sticky page markers in the other, until I got so tired of my own story. I put the manuscript away and didn’t touch it for months at a time. I told myself it was marinating. I dabbed peppermint essential oil on the back of my neck to stimulate creativity. I wandered museums, lit candles, listened to classical music, and drank herbal tea hoping for inspiration. I stared out the window – a lot. I diverted my attention by watering houseplants and shopping on Amazon. I meditated. I took a lot of walks. Then one day last November I talked to my friend Tina and told her I was stuck. “You’re not stuck. You’re done,” she said. Those five words catapulted me forward. I gave myself a deadline to self-publish and kept driving to it. I hired a graphic designer and a copy editor. I proofed the manuscript multiple times before approving it for publication. Did I really need all those writing methods and stationery supplies? I don’t know but they got me to where I am now: a published author.

A yoga friend told me she reads Musing Off the Mat while waiting for her son at appointments and school functions. “It’s funny, charming, and calming, three things greatly needed in current times!” she says. Another friend told me that her boyfriend likes reading the short personal essays in the bathtub because it helps him relax. I’m humbled and honored by these comments. My goal with this book was to provide readers with a diversion from their hectic days. Read it from beginning to end or simply fan through the pages and select a short essay to free you from worry or routine. You’ll laugh, nod in agreement, and maybe even shed a tear. Whether you’re waiting in the pick-up line, soaking in the tub after a hard day’s work, or just having toes up time, my stories will take you away for a few moments. Order your copy on Amazon. Buy one for a friend, too!

Tell me your favorite summer vacation spot and win an autographed copy of Musing Off the Mat. Lake Beach Mountain City Or maybe your backyard. Reply under this blog post or on Facebook. The winner will be selected in a drawing on Friday, July 21st. Stay cool and read about my memories and everyday moments.

In the preface of my book, I explain how the title Musing Off the Mat came to me while practicing yoga. On Saturday, June 24^th, Kristin Olson graciously hosted a book signing for me at her studio, Home Yoga, where I am a regular. While chatting with friends who attended the event, I noticed Kristin’s 8-year-old daughter Ashlin reading my book. The image of her nestled there on the couch in the lobby of the studio warmed me. Many kind people have complimented me on the book, however watching this precious young girl read my personal essays was the most gratifying part of the day and better than any book sale. Thank you, Ashlin. Read for life and love.

The night before I announced my book, Musing Off the Mat, I had a vivid dream. I was climbing a concrete obelisk similar to the Washington Monument, only it was on a slant instead of vertical. I had no climbing gear. I was wearing only a t-shirt and pants. No shoes, hat, gloves, or goggles. I was pulling myself up like I used to do on the ropes in junior high school gym class. Near the top, the concrete mountain was wrapped in a thin, cotton quilt. As I continued climbing, the quilt would slip me farther down the obelisk. I could see the top but couldn’t get there. Finally, I summoned strength from somewhere, raised my left arm, placed my palm on top of the surface, and pulled my body onto the landing. I stood up and found myself inside a small, undecorated, empty, square lobby with dusty windows. There was no scenic view. Then Kelly Ripa walked into the lobby. She congratulated me for making it to the top and asked if I wanted a photo taken. I told her I regretted wearing a t-shirt with St. Thomas written across it. (The cover photo of the book was taken in St. Thomas.) Kelly said it didn’t matter. She placed a beaded wreath on my head and snapped a photo. Next, Kelly’s husband, Mark Consuelos, appeared. He told me it was easy to take the elevator down to the street level. He asked if I needed a ride home. I said no, that I’d walk to my car that was several blocks away in the Villanova parking lot. That was the end of my dream. Obviously, climbing a mountain alone without gear is symbolic of self-publishing. The journey is strenuous but perhaps may be more satisfying than actually completing the goal. Villanova, my alma mater, is where my dream of becoming a writer started. As for Kelly and Mark? Who knows how they entered my psyche?

Welcome! Readers like you inspired me to launch my blog, Musing Off the Mat, in 2013. For four years, I wrote about the simplicity of everyday things involving family, food, yoga, and more. The result is my first book. Thank you! On this blog, I’ll write about my new role as a published author. I’ll share my experience with self-publishing (not so easy!) and what I encounter promoting and selling a book. And I’ll continue writing about those daily happenings that make me shake my head in wonder. Writing is a solitary endeavor. Yet, I did not achieve the goal of self-publishing a book on my own. Along the way, several people helped me and I want to thank them. First, my writing partner, Kathleen Molloy Nollet (Education Spring). Kathy was with me before I launched the blog, met me at the local library countless times, and answered my calls. She prodded and always encouraged me. We had a lot of laughs along the way. I’m indebted to Kelly Pelissier at Sage Hill Design for her design expertise of the book’s interior and cover. I know my limits and it was clear that I could not complete the layout without the technical skill required for a quality product. Working with Kelly was fun. She taught me a lot and I’m excited to be working with her on my forthcoming memoir. Kieran Chapman introduced me to Kelly and built this web site. He is knowledgeable, talented, and efficient. Both Kelly and Kieran are very responsive and easy to work with. Ellen Alden is a new author who provided encouragement and advice about self-publishing. If you’re new to my blog, thank you for stopping by. If you were a follower of my first blog, thanks for sticking with me.