My mother taught me to thank people who do nice things, but in this case I often don’t know who you are. Therefore I’m taking this opportunity to thank the following people who have written reviews on amazon.com for “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses.” It feels good to be noticed, appreciated, and liked. So thanks to the following (by first name only): Mallory, ihales, Leelah, Beverly, Margaret, Joyce, Lindsay, Joan, and Sarah. I hope you folks will get to see this substitute for a hand-written note. (Remember the old days?)
And, while I’m at it, thanks to those who wrote reviews for her earlier version, “Mrs. Job.” Janice, Andrew, harpo, Sarah, Audrey, Dianna, Pat, Sheila, J, Laurie, D.K., Sheila, Pamela, Justine, and Renate.
It’s people like you who make life good.
Happy Labor Day!
I goofed and ordered the less-than-perfect kindle format for “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses.” Right now I’m trying to get it fixed so I can provide a more perfect version for you.
I was willing to resubmit the whole thing because of an error on page 115, so I’m certainly not going to let my mistake lead to an inferior product now if I can help it.
So please bear with me.
In the meantime, of course, the paperback is available and as close to satisfactory as I can get it.
Another blogger just posted this. It’s a moving story, illustrative of the gift of kindness. We humans are capable of great love and generosity.
It puts me in mind of the many needs here at home and throughout the world where people suffer poverty, illness, fear, and hopelessness. We are so good at overlooking massive needs. They seem just too big to handle. What can I do? But when it comes down to the individual, our hearts won’t let us avoid helping.
For the many other bloggers, and people everywhere, who, like me, are sick at heart over the suffering in our world, it seems that one key is letting ourselves see these things as happening to individual people. How would I feel if I knew personally the folks in those shoes — or bare feet? I’ve just been reading “The Tipping Point.” When will we as a society reach the tipping point where enough of us are concerned that we’ll feel our power to help our world — the people in it — the environment we live in?
How soon will it happen that we will overcome inertia, perceived helplessness, and denial to do the wonderful things of which we are potentially capable.
The “No news after noon” policy really works. I still know what’s going on in the world, but I’m not driving myself crazy with nursing it all day. And then, at bedtime, my good-sense-0f-humor niece sends me a summary that goes something like this. “News of the day — same stuff — all bad.” and I end up giggling instead of gagging.
Working? Well, here’s the story. figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses is available in both paperback and Kindle form, but they don’t appear on the same page. Yesterday’s project was to get the e-book going. Today was the discovery that you can’t yet “look inside” the paperback, but you can in the Kindle store. Tomorrow’s project will be to find out why both alternatives aren’t listed in the same place.
In the meantime. here’s the link to the paperback version.
And here’s the route to the kindle version.
I just checked and found that Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses is already up on amazon.com, ready for reviews and orders if anyone is so inclined. They tell me it will take a few weeks before the “look inside” feature will be there.
I guess this calls for a celebration. Ready now! Please join me in a big HOORAY!
They tell me “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” is electronically on its way to amazon.com. Look for it on Thursday, August 28th they said.
I hope we will all discover it then. I’ll believe it when I see it.
My latest health move. I’m cutting myself off the news once noon arrives. It’s just too sleep-disturbing any closer to bedtime. So much horror!
Of course I’m sickened by the awful things happening in other countries – human greed and cruelty. The awful beheading of a dedicated American journalist. The killing and isolating of communities of Christians – and other religions and groups unacceptable to ISIS.
But what keeps me awake is what’s going on right here in the United States. A majority of our citizens wanting to send refugee children back to misery and death. (Not the first time we’ve been so cruel. Check out the refugee ship SS Saint Louis in May-June 1939. And the innocents still imprisoned at Guantanamo. Just for starters.) But this is today. Militarized police becoming judge and jury.
I was naïve as a child and youth – even into adulthood. I really thought the function of the police was to serve the public. I believed “arrest” meant “arrest,” i.e. to stop or prevent crime. Truth be told, I know police for whom that is the mission. But I fear they are out-noised by the killers among us. I honestly thought that when a police officer shot it was intentionally a non-lethal injury intended to prevent further crime/assault. I didn’t understand that the first duty of a cop is to kill and beat folks after they had surrendered – even after they were handcuffed – or locked in a cell.
I didn’t understand that the first duty was to treat protestors as the enemy – to confront them with guns drawn.
I didn’t understand the right of civilians to kill someone because they were scared – that just ringing the doorbell to ask for help is so scary that killing is legitimate. I thought the idea was to retreat to a safe place and call 911. Or worse yet, I didn’t know it’s OK to be scared that maybe the person turning away from a confrontation might be getting a gun out of a car, making it legitimate to shoot him.
I didn’t appreciate the depth of racism that makes someone scary– and therefore the potential object of beating/killing — because he’s black, and blacks are scary. (I try to imagine from my white advantage what it would have been like to love and raise a black son.)
I didn’t understand the apparent right to beat and/or kill a man for being homeless and acting crazy – which no doubt he was.
I didn’t “get” that it’s OK to beat an autistic young man because he has a bulge in his pocket – his colostomy bag.
In fact, I just don’t get the right to beat anyone who is already subdued.
I wonder if those same cops go home at night and complain about people who want to establish sharia law.
I could go on, but I’ve got to read my disturbing e-mail before noon so I can focus on peace and quiet and classical music and my projects for the rest of the day.
Maybe that will help my sleep.