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.
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.
I’ve been through “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” again with a fine toothed comb. Now I’ve got to rein myself in. I suspect that no dedicated writer is ever perfectly satisfied with the final product, but editing has to stop somewhere.
I’ve been pleased by responses from people who feel as I do that we dishonor our readers if we provide them with careless grammar, spelling and style.
When the book is finally available (in a week-and-a-half or so) you may enjoy the challenge of looking for errors. Please don’t attack the g/G in god/God though. Those variations are deliberate.
One thing I was surprised to find myself doing twelve times was removing the unnecessary use of the word “that.” Since I recently read a critique of the overuse of “that,” I’ve found myself disturbed by it in other folk’s writing as well as my own.
For example, from “Figs …”
“… so that they would never again be as self-righteous as they had been … “
vs.
“ … so they would never again be as self-righteous as they had been… “
Maybe your ears don’t get affected, but mine are much more comfortable with the second version.
One more example, also from “Figs … “
“We wanted to promise each other that we would always be together in the same way…”
vs,
“We wanted to promise each other we would always be together in the same way…”
Well, anyway. That’s what I’ve been up to.
Thanks for hanging in there.
OH MY GOODNESS! I JUST RE-READ MY FIRST SENTENCE. How about “that.” Or is it OK there?
On August 7th I received the proof copy of “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses.” I thought I would find it perfect and it would be on amazon.com in a few days ready for comment and purchase.
But this is a story about the inevitability of errors, and the compulsion to overcome them. It’s an example of the need for careful editing.
Just to be sure, I proofed the proof. This must be about the 15th time. And shucks, it wasn’t perfect.
Back before it was published as “Mrs. Job,” I edited it several times before sending it off to iUniverse, where they both edited and copyedited it, involving me in the process. Then came the time when TMPublications intended to publish it under a different title, so it was again edited and copyedited. Again I was involved with checking their edits.
The next step in the story, as I guess you all know by now, TMPulications ran into financial problems so they couldn’t publish it. For the following year and a half when “Mrs. Job” (or whoever she was to become) wondered what her future would be, she was edited by me several times. And finally, when she was newly labeled “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” I edited her several more times.
So, I thought she had attained perfection. But no. Right away I noticed that the unnecessary word “that,” carefully removed in several places, was still showing up where I didn’t want it. Oh well, that’s a stylistic matter, I thought, so we’ll let it stand.
But then I hit page 115 where what should have been the word “moved” was missing a “d.” That just provides one example why I don’t rely on spellcheck to pick up on errors.
And on page 169 I discovered the same verb appearing twice in the same paragraph. My ears didn’t like that.
So, I’ll proof it one more time. I know the ideal would be to have someone else do it for me, but I don’t know who I could ask at the last minute, and I can’t wait much longer to get “Figs …” out there for review.
So, I’ll read through it again and try this time to perfect it. Fortunately it is a good read if I do say so myself. Yes, I do say so.
Just in case the title is misleading, “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” is not a cookbook, just as “Mrs. Job” was not a self-help book showing married women how to get paid employment.
Here’s the source of the title, – a quote from page 50 when Dara’s mom is talking to Dara about her upcoming marriage to Job.
“Oh Dara, I did feel that way about your father when we first married,
but love changes over time. I guess you could say at first it is like
feasting on figs and pomegranates and special cheeses,
and later it is like enjoying the evening potage. The thrill may not be
so great later on, but each day it fills the empty hole that would be hunger
if you did not have each other.”
Yes, I will share some photos from the Alaska cruise, but first I need to finalize work for “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses.” With the help of two wonderful ladies, we’re getting there. Marilyn Brown on Watercolor. Jenny Janson of Janson graphics on layout and cover detail. So, Here’s what the front cover will look like when I finish the final proofreading and all the other stuff that’s needed to get it out there on CreateSpace.
I guess I have to postpone the cover of “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” for another day, and even the photos of Alaska, because this is just too important a follow-up on yesterday’s blog.
The early training reported in yesterday’s blog tends to encourage the inappropriate use of “sorry.” I remember noticing at SCSU how often women said “I’m sorry” when walking through an entrance door while someone was using the exit door. Or there’s the research of women saying “I’m sorry” when someone bumps into them with the grocery carriage. I’ll bet you have some of your own stories of saying “I’m sorry.” Probably a good thing to make note of in our own behavior.
Yes, I’ve been invisible to the blogging community since June 22, the beginning of a two-week cruise to Alaska. And I will post photos soon, but today I’d like to make some comments on invisibility, inspired by a little episode onboard ship.
Let me say upfront this is not a report of stress, or even any great emotional reaction. It is simply some of my personal experiences with the documented evidence that older women – or even, women – tend to be invisible. It begins as soon as one passes through the young blonde – or brunette – or redhead – stage.
Anyway, here’s my cruise story, and following. Doug and I always ask for a table for two in the dining room, and this time, as usual, we were recognized by the third day by the host assigning seats, so we were simply waved to table 144, a nice table for two as close as possible to the window. (That’s because all the tables by the window were for six people. One of the things to be observed is that many folks on board apparently enjoy the personal contact with strangers while eating.)
Anyway, here’s where my observations begin. One morning Doug was off on a hiking excursion, so I went alone to breakfast. “And what is your cabin number?” asked the host. “6160” I replied. Throwing his hand over his mouth, he said, apparently embarrassed, “Oh my. I didn’t recognize you.” And so I was directed to the table, and gleefully reminded him of the faux pas before every meal thereafter, a reminder to which he responded pleasantly. In other words, we had a thing going.
So, about being on the ship. One thing I have noticed there – and at other gatherings of strangers, is that folks always, as a way of making conversation, ask the men what they do – or did before they retired – for a career. As far as I can observe, I’m the only one who turns to the female partner to ask, “and how about you?” Often it turns out they have also had interesting careers. It just doesn’t occur to people to think of that. On the other hand, there are the occasions where the husband answers for her, “She’s been busy raising our family of six children.” A great career, I think, but what I find interesting is that he answers for her.
Remember, the theme of this entry is “invisibility.”
But thinking back, I realize my experience with invisibility goes back a way. (Incidentally, I think maybe things are different now with younger people.) Anyway, for more stories.
In 1980 I had the pleasure of a half-year sabbatical from SCSU. I did what I was supposed to do with it –a lot of reading on the Psychology of Women in preparation for improving my course when I would return. So, here’s my invisibility story. I was in the habit of stopping at noontime to do some exercises on the floor while listening to a New York TV station that ran the news on a banner below other programming. On this day, I heard three men’s voices deep in discussion. Then I heard a woman start to say something, to which one of the men said, “Oh, I’m sorry. We haven’t been giving you a chance to talk.” And then, I kid you not, I never heard her voice again.
And there’s the time when I was the only chairperson in a group of chairmen. (Yes, one observed that we were a committee of 21 chairmen and one chairperson.) I want to say up front these were all fine gentlemen who had, indeed, encouraged my advancement. It’s just that for both men and women of the time we were like the fish who are the last to discover the water in which we are swimming. It was a little different from the voiceless woman in the TV discussion, though, because they would politely stop when I had something to say, and then go right on where they had left off, as if I hadn’t said anything. One day I said to them “Gentlemen, I feel like if I looked in a mirror, no one would look back.” I did get their attention, and,, in response to their questioning looks, I explained what I had observed about our interactions. For a few meetings after that, it was almost embarrassing as they stopped to ask my opinion and respond to it. Yes, at first it was stilted, but before long I was comfortably incorporated into the group.
Then there’s my colleague and friend, Ragaa. We did tend to attract attention when we were out somewhere together – Ragaa with her lovely black hair, and mine still blonde. So it happened one time we were having dinner in a hotel dining room. We were there for a weekend conference. To some men at a table near us, we were not, in a sense, invisible as they were clearly hitting on us. We let them know we were discussing work. “What are two lovely ladies doing at a work conference?” they asked. That was basically the end of the cross-table conversation.
But it was at that time, or maybe later, that I talked to Ragaa about the research observation that women are basically ignored in conversation. She was really, I think, annoyed with me for being so “sensitive” until one day in Spring she came into my office spilling anger. As a member of the masters degree committee, she had just been at an orals exam for a graduating candidate. “Three times I made the suggestion (she told me what it was) and three times people ignored it.” Then Mark came in and made the same suggestion. “Great idea” people responded, “and made sure it was incorporated into the final thesis.”
One final story, and then I hope you’ll have your comments and observations to add.
This one has to do with “A Healthy Woman is a Crazy Person,” the theme of the talks I did around town. They were so popular that people displayed the phrase on bumper stickers. My colleague Bob and I decided it would be a good marketing idea to sell T-shirts with those words on them. So, I made an appointment with a lawyer to learn what we needed to do to accomplish our goals. Bob and I arrived on time and the secretary called Bob by name into his office. (Of course, the invitation was intended for both of us.) Bob sat to my right as we both faced the lawyer with his long yellow pad across the table. I gave him the information about what we wanted to do and he took copious notes. Then he looked at Bob to explain what needed to be done and – I swear this is the truth – never looked at me again except to shake hands on departure. If you ever meet Bob and talk to him, he will validate the story.
And so it has gone. Today I’m not so sure I want people to notice me anyway. Well, that’s not true. I’d love to have folks seeing me at book signings when “Figs & Pomegranates & Special Cheeses” hits the market.