Danielle Steel's Blog, page 68

The Writing Continues

Hi Everyone,

Just a short break to say hello and let you know how much I look forward to getting back to blogging!  I'm still writing, but will have another post next Monday.  Until then…

Love,

Danielle

Writing

Hi Everyone!

I'll be busy writing for the next couple weeks so I won't be posting a new blog for a little while.  Until then…

Love, Danielle

Fun Cuisine (As opposed to Fine Dining, and Fine Cuisine)

For many years, I fed my family the kind of things mothers do: lamb chops, chicken, hamburgers, steak, pasta, good solid, family food. I loved to bake when I had time to do it—-and no one would have accused me of being a fabulous chef (Julia Child was not shaking in her boots, terrified of any threat from me), and my kids seemed to like what I cooked——–long before that, when I was first married, I will admit there were a few awkward moments before I learned to cook. Notably, I didn't know you were supposed to cook/boil artichokes, so I served them without cooking them at all. I just put them on a plate. They looked fine to me. (Let's face it, I got married at 17, and I don't think I'd ever been in the kitchen until then).I read cookbooks meticulously, and followed the directions, and I took whatever it was out of the oven whether ready or not—–I was particularly weak on chickens, which still looked like they were ready to fly away when I served them raw. It said to cook them for an hour, so I did—-and they came out of the oven right on time, ready or not, (mostly not). One of my worst moments was a tomato aspic I served at my first dinner party, at l7. I had no idea how to get it out of the mold, so flipped it onto a plate, ran hot water over the mold as the recipe said to do, and the aspic slithered down the sink with a terrible sucking sound….uh….whoops…..It was a low moment in my cooking history. And things improved as time went on (in spite of a liverwurst casserole I thought was a masterpiece, another low point in my career, and some kind of apricot chicken thing I set on fire and nearly burned the house down.). I suppose I should confess now that the marriage ended in divorce—-it's remotely possible that my cooking had something to do with it, although there may have been other factors too, it's hard to say. But my kids are still alive after eating my cooking for many years. Admittedly, my best menus include (home made) tacos, brownies, and french toast. And I make an almost irresistible peanut butter sandwich. And a very respectable steak (that people actually eat).

When the kids were growing up, after I stopped cooking every day (speed was always my greatest skill, more than quality, but with 9 kids, who had time to stir a pot for 5 hours to make coq au vin???? And kids wont eat that anyway), but after that, Sunday night was a mandatory family meal. (And I cooked on Mondays too). EVERYONE had to be home for Sunday night dinner, and helped cook. There was a round of applause at dinner for everyone for their contributions: washing the salad, unwrapping the cheese, opening the bag of potato chips, it was a family event. Sadly, I stopped cooking Sunday night dinner, when my son Nick died. I tried it a few times, was surprised that he was late, and then realized he wasn't coming to Sunday dinner ever again, and dissolved in tears every time. It was just too hard, so when the kids are home on Sunday nights now (on rare occasions), I cook, or they do, or we order take out. It's not the same. But they're grown up and things change. And we have wonderful memories of those Sunday night dinners when they were little kids.

The big problem with my cooking is that, most of the time, I don't care what I eat. With all the kids grown up, many of them gone, and only one left at home (who would rather cut her tongue out than sit down to a boring dinner with her mother), I fend for myself. And I eat the easiest fastest thing at hand: a soft boiled egg, a piece of melon, Oreo cookies, or sometimes I don't bother to eat at all. After years of eating with kids, they've grown up and eat sophisticated meals—-I still eat like a 5 year old, scrambled eggs or an omelet are great. I can't imagine cooking a fabulous meal for myself—-so I don't. (And nothing I cook is fabulous anyway—-unless you're 6 years old). Worse, my parents' favorite form of torture was making me sit in front of a full plate of food until I ate it——sometimes all day, so eating has always seemed like some form of punishment to me. Things like lima beans, brussel sprouts, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower…..yergghhhhhkkkkkkk…..I'd rather eat a soft boiled egg. So I have a checkered history with eating. The only way I seem to eat at home is if someone sticks a plate under my face and I don't have to think about it (but please no broccoli!!!!), so I skip a lot of meals (because no one is sticking dinner under my nose usually. A bite of chocolate does me fine).

Having said all that, a friend stayed with me in Paris recently, and he said rather off handedly that he likes to cook. Hmmmm that's nice. I didn't respond that I don't really like to eat. And my refrigerator in Paris looks a famine has taken over, or the way most bachelors' refrigerators look: half a lime, two lemons, club soda, a jar of olives (that could be 5 years old), and a head of lettuce that died two years ago and no one threw away. He looked into my fridge with utter disgust, and headed for the supermarket, while I did other things. Several hours later, delicious smells emerged from my kitchen. I didn't pay much attention until delicious hors d'oeuvres appeared…hors d'oeuvres in my kitchen??? Things with tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, balsamic….I ate everything in sight, and for the next several days, I ate omelettes, fantastic mushrooms, delicious pasta, and a vast assortment of delicious food floated around my kitchen, and I ate all of it. My fridge was full with things that humans actually eat. He respected the no horrible vegetable rule, not a brussel sprout in sight——and it was like living in a restaurant. I went shopping with him at a huge food emporium, he disappeared discreetly to the supermarket and actually came back with things to eat instead of just toilet paper and paper towels and another lemon, the things I usually buy. He was a genius in the kitchen, and he made it painless and fun. Instead of opening my fridge, saying hello to the two lemons and to see if the dead lettuce was still there, I was asking "What's for dinner?" The big difference is that he LOVES to cook, and produced meals that everyone would want to eat. He made it fun, and yummy, and suddenly we were having conversations about truffles and porcini mushrooms, and I actually cared what I was eating and enjoying it. My diet of one piece of chocolate and two stale crackers went out the window, and I was tasting all the wonderful things he prepared. Wow!!! Food can be fun. Now there's a piece of shocking news.

It reminded me that cooking can be fun, and sitting down to a good meal at home is really a treat. It's better with a friend. Eating alone isn't much fun. In fact, none at all. For two weeks, my kitchen was my favorite place to be. Some people really have talent in the kitchen—-I'm not one of them, but for those who are, cooking is a joy which they share with others like a gift. I had a ball eating all the good food for those two weeks. He left 3 days ago, and I'm back to eating a piece of chocolate, stale crackers, and have been too lazy to even boil an egg. (Anything I eat now would be so inadequate compared to what he cooked, so why bother?) Whatever I produce would be pathetic compared to what I ate for two weeks. It wasn't even fattening, and I lost two pounds while he was here. Healthy food!!!!

I have newfound respect for the value of delicious, healthy food. I'll probably always be too lazy to cook myself a decent meal when I'm alone…….but wow!!! What a treat when someone else does who knows what they're doing. And what a talent. Some people actually turn cooking into art, the fine art of dining, eating well, sharing a meal with a friend and making it a fun event. It almost made me want to cook again!!!! Scrambled eggs, anyone? (At least I can cook a chicken now until it's really cooked, and I make a very decent steak). I know when I'm outclassed……but what a treat it was for 2 weeks of heavenly food in my kitchen. I have to tell you, the half lime and the two lemons just don't look the same to me now. Since he left, I open the fridge now, take a look, and don't have the heart to even make a peanut butter sandwich. It just wouldn't be the same. I'll make due with the two lemons, until he comes back to cook again. What a treat!!! Bravo to a talented chef, who makes cooking delicious, healthy, and fun……What a gift!!!!

Love, Danielle

Autumn in Paris

After a glorious September in San Francisco (following a freezing summer, the coldest in years), instead of a few golden days of Indian summer, we had weeks of it, and I lay in the sun like a lizard soaking up the last rays of sun (even though it's no longer p.c., I always feel better with a tan, at least in the summer months, and am city pale the rest of the year)—-I trotted through New York in October (and appeared on the CBS Early Show for my new book "Legacy"), and it was just the beginning of fall in New York. And from there I went to Paris, and found myself smack dab in the beginnings of winter, with all its charm and lures and chilly weather. I love winter and snow, and the Christmas holidays, and all the excitements of the winter season, but I have to admit I really enjoyed the summer and the hot weather. But those lazy days are over til next year.

Back in Paris, I turned up the heat, pulled out my winter coats, and threw myself into the fall activities in Paris. One of my favorites is a big art fair that happens every October called the FIAC, which I had fun browsing. It happens at the Grand Palais, a beautiful old glass structure with domes like a Palace, where there are many art exhibitions, fashion shows, and cultural events throughout the year. It's a fabulous building, recently restored to its original beauty in the past few years. I wandered the aisles, looking at all the booths and a dizzying amount of art, as well as several smaller art fairs that sprout up at the same time. September is the month for antique fairs in Paris, and October for art fairs, and I thoroughly enjoy both, and try to see them all.

I caught up with friends after the summer, invited my favorite ladies for lunch, and am planning to give a Halloween dinner, with decorations I brought from the states. Halloween is virtually non-existent in France, and all of Europe, so it's fun bringing a bit of that to Paris. I've been taking long walks in the chilly weather, doing some shopping, and starting to plan for Christmas. It just feels like winter again, and as incredibly beautiful and appealing as spring and summer are in Paris, it's beautiful here in winter too. They're starting to string up the Christmas lights in the trees on the Champs Elysees, although they're not lit yet, but Paris goes all out decorating for Christmas, the way we used to do in years past, and no longer do to the same extent. Winter is in the air here, and Christmas will be here before we know it….I'm ready for the Parisian winter, and will be back in California for the holidays too…..so Indian summer is officially over….bundle up….I can hardly wait for the first winter snow blanketing all the parks and monuments of Paris, and hanging off the trees like lace. It's so beautiful here!!! I miss the summer sun, but it's exciting that winter is here!!!

44 Charles Street

44 Charles Street, April 5 2011

Fall

Wow!! I can't believe its fall already. The summer went much too quickly. I got a little second wind of summer by spending Labor Day weekend in warm weather with some of my kids. We were on a boat, wishing that summer could go on forever. And then, somehow, September whizzed by, I've been working hard, and its October.

In San Francisco, one gets about 4 hot days a year, maybe 6 (really!! San Francisco is Northern California, so it's usually 25 to 30 degrees colder than LA, and also than the Napa Valley, which is only about 60 miles away). San Francisco is in a pocket of cold air, with a stiff wind off the Bay, and lots of fog, so it is always cold there. And feels freezing in the summer when it's 50 degrees). But for about 3 days in June, and 3 days in September, it is hot and warm and gorgeous. And sure enough in the last week of September, it was gorgeous in SF. I spent one day at the beach, and two days on my roof (trying to preserve my tan), and then I had to work. And then the fog rolled in, and it's freezing again. So I put my summer clothes away today, and that's the end of it. No more summer. I had a great time with my kids this year, and am really sad to see the summer end.

I hope you had a good summer too. Now I will be working all year, taking a brief break for holidays with my kids, but that's it for me. I'll have my nose to the grindstone til next summer, working on new books. It's fun to get back to work, but I really miss the lazy days of summer!! And I hope we all have a great fall!!

Love,

Danielle

Legacy

Hi Everybody,

You probably know I have a new book out in hardcover, called "Legacy".  It's both historical and modern, and I really love that book.  There are two main characters in the book, a modern woman, and a woman set in history.  The main character is a Dakota Sioux woman, actually a young girl, who traveled from the Sioux village where she lived (and was kidnapped by a warring tribe, when she was in her later teens.  She is the chief's daughter), she travels to New Orleans, and from there to France.

She arrives in France, in Brittany, eventually travels to Paris, and visits the court of Louis XVI, before the French Revolution, settles in Brittany, and survives the Revolution there.

The story fascinated me as I researched and wrote it, because I discovered the Louis the XVI, the French king, was fascinated by American Indians/Native Americans, and brought many chiefs to France, to visit his court as honored guests. The main port of entry in France in the 18th century was through Brittany, and apparently several of those chiefs actually decided to stay in France, and settled in Brittany. And there are still descendants of them there now.  I loved learning that piece of history, and it inspired this story.  And as I worked on the outline, the young Indian girl in my story emerged.  Her name is Wachiwi.  I was mesmerized by a young girl, greatly respected in her tribe as the chief's daughter, and how she could venture so far from home, to entirely different world, different customs, and make a new life there.  I fell in love with her, and the courage she represented, as I wrote it. And as I did the research, I discovered that both Pocahontas and Sacajawea had gone to Europe as well.  It is amazing to think of young Dakota Sioux girl winding up at the French court (in the days of Marie Antoinette!).

More than anything, the girl in the story symbolized courage, adventure, and perseverance.  And I'm sure there were a few remarkable young women like her.

The modern woman in the story discovers her ancestor, a young Sioux girl, many generations back, while tracing her family genealogy, and becomes fascinated with her. And in turn, what she learns of this young girl gives her courage for her own life—something she had lacked until then.  And it changes her life.

As always with my books, I did extensive research, and I really hope you love this book.  I think its special, and I hope you find Wachiwi, and her brave journey, inspiring too.

One of the mentors of my early writing career, and a great friend was Alex Haley, the man who wrote 'Roots', which was inspired by his researching one of his ancestors, and his journey from Africa to America by slave ship.  Alex told me about his excitement, while going through volumes and volumes of ship logs, and finding the ancestor he new about Kunta Kinte.  The book 'Roots' was inspired by that discovery.  Alex was an extraordinary writer and human being.  I was in awe of him, his talent and his kindness when we became friends.

I couldn't help thinking about him, as I wrote Legacy, and told the story of Wachiwi.  I tried to infuse the book with the same excitement when my modern character finds her young Sioux relative in the course of her research—as Alex must have felt when he found his relative's name in the ship log, listed as 'cargo'.

Suddenly, it all became real!

I really hope you love this book!!

Love,

Danielle

Why Not?

In one of my books, I explored how limited some of us get in our thinking. We follow a familiar path, do the things we always did, and have a lot of preconceived ideas about what we can't and won't do. Part of that is due to age, but some of us get pretty well locked into our positions even in our 20′s and 30′s, and time doesn't improve it. I do it myself, and I think I've been saying "At my age," since I was about 25. It has been a great excuse for all the things I don't want to do (climb Everest, or the Himalayas, hike in Nepal, even go to India, which must be fascinating but sometimes sounds a little scary. I've never been on safari, because I'm sure I'll get eaten by a lion, attacked by a hippo, or strangled by a snake). I play it pretty safe, and for me 'exotic travel' leads me from Paris to SF, via New York, with trips to Italy in the summer. I am not a very adventuresome person, and never have been. The trouble is that once you set limitations for yourself, your world gets smaller and smaller, new things seem like too much trouble, and we stick with the safe ones. I'm sure that many of you are braver than I am, and lots of you go to some fabulous places. But I'm not just talking about travel. I'm talking about learning new languages, or meeting new people, or trying a new job, or giving up a bad boyfriend instead of continuing to date him because what if you can't find another one? (How many of us have done that and spent years with the wrong person). Well, the conclusion I came to while writing that book was "Why not?" Why not trying something new? Why not? When I run out of excuses not to do something I don't want to do, I hide behind kids and work…..I cant…I have to see the kids…or finish a book. Valid reasons not to do something…..but what if I put just as much energy into doing something, than not doing it??? Now there's a new idea, even for me.

The most exciting woman I have ever known is now probably close to 100 years old. Until a couple of years ago, at 98, she decided to move to Paris in her 70′s, learned excellent French, then added Venice to her homes (a fabulous palazzo), was constantly talking classes, learning languages, travelling the world and meeting new people. She was the most interesting woman I'd ever met, at any age. And she put me to shame already when I was in my 30′s. And yes, a lot of what she did took money—–but I'm not even talking about that. What about going to art movies in your home town? Taking a painting class? Learning to do sculpture? Learn a language, take up a new sport, join a club, meet new people——at EVERY age. I think a lot of us try to find reasons not to do things, and want to play it safe. And familiar always feel safe. But that's what came to me in the book, that maybe my new answer should be "Why not?". Yeah. Why not?????? You never know who you'll meet or what will come of it, maybe a new house or apartment, new job, new friend, a better opportunity than you could ever dream of, or maybe just a whole lot of fun you wouldn't have had otherwise. Saying Why not? And then yes, could broaden your world and enrich your life immeasurably.

My most recent 'why not?" happened about a vacation. I go on vacation with my kids every summer. We always go in July, we go to the same places, and I plan it a year in advance. I'm a planner. I can tell you what day I'm going to pick my Christmas tree this year. And if plans shift, even by a day, it makes me nervous. If it's on my calendar on that date, then it is MEANT to be there. And for me, a vacation is something I do once a year. And we had a great one this year. So great that I came home in a really good mood. And 3 weeks after I got home, I got an opportunity to go on vacation again with 3 of my kids and 3 of their friends, on a totally impromptu basis. Me? Impromptu? Not usually. Hell, no. And how could I justify going on vacation again 5 weeks later. It was only for 5 days and my kids were itching to go, and I said I'd think about it. And I did. First, I said it was too expensive. Then I thought it was silly. Then I was embarrassed—just how self-indulgent am I—–another vacation a month later? But I had the time and so did they and the offer was incredibly tempting. I checked with the other kids (who didn't have free time that week) and asked if they'd mind, and they said that they didn't. Pretty soon I had used up all my excuses and the idea was still hanging in mid air, a plum ripe for the picking. And then one morning, I got up, looked out the window, and heard my own words of wisdom in my head and said "Why not", followed by what the hell, and announced to my 3 kids that we could do it. And I have to tell you, I have never had a vacation that was more fun. Everyone was in a great mood, the weather was perfect, I got a better tan than I did all summer, I loved being with my kids, and we packed a ton of fun things into those 5 days. But best of all was my sense of accomplishment for finally letting go, and not hanging on quite so tightly. For once, my time off hadn't been planned for a year, it just happened. And it was fantastic. It taught me a huge lesson that sometimes "Why not?" is the right answer. It really really is, whether it's a day off, or lunch with a friend, or a spa day, or a weekend away somewhere, or just a project you want to do in your same city, or something you want to do or learn, or giving someone a chance you never thought you would and having a date with someone new who might turn out to be terrific. WHY NOT??? None of us ever know how long we'll be here. We think we'll have forever. We put things off that might be fun. We deprive ourselves at times, we put chores first, or do things we really don't want to. I am very stingy with myself about the fun stuff, and I have a strong sense of duty, and a powerful work ethic. But this time, I just let go and said Why not??? And it was only for a few days, not a lifetime. (And the responsibility police did not come to get me!!)It was one of the most fun things I have ever done, and the whole atmosphere of the trip was one of fun. It was a great lesson for me, so I wanted to share it with you…..so the next time you're about to say no to something unplanned or unexpected, think again, and see if "Why Not?" wouldn't be a better answer!!! I have come to discover that it is. For me, "Why not?" has been terrific. I felt renewed when I came home, younger, better, happier….I'll probably never be a totally spontaneous person, but I really want to try. I think 'Why Not?' is the right answer!!!

Love, Danielle

Back to School

Although kids seem to go back to school earlier and earlier now (and in all fairness, get out earlier in the spring too), mine have not yet gone back to school, as I write this. My college kids go back to school in mid August, and those on sports teams have to go back even sooner for practice. But some of my kids in college have gotten out for the summer as early as April, and all by May. So they get a nice long vacation, but it still seems a little strange to me to be going back to school in what feels like the middle of summer, when I am not yet ready to turn my mind to the fall. September feels like the month for that, so we just have to rev up earlier, forget the beach, and start thinking 'fall'.

The odd phenomenon I've discovered is that no matter how old I get, with my own school days a distant memory, September still feels like an exciting time, and the fall means to me 'back to school'. I can still remember the excitement of buying new notebooks, spending hours selecting ones with covers I liked, pens with ink, pencils and sharpeners and erasers, and that unmistakable smell of freshly sharpened pencils. Lunch boxes, pencil boxes, a new school bag (or back pack now) always seemed so exciting to me, and new uniforms. (As an only child, I had no hand me downs). The newness of everything seemed so exciting, the smell of paper in a new binder, everything so fresh and clean. It was a hopeful beginning every year, a promise of good things to come. And I find that that whole notion is so integrally a part of me that every year sometime in August, I find myself going through my house, replacing things that are old or damaged or broken, making sure that all is fresh and new and clean for the fall. In my house, I'm not so inspired by 'spring cleaning' as I am by the notion of back to school.

Like a squirrel tossing out old acorns, I found myself the other day taking my kitchen apart, and getting rid of broken bowls, chipped plates, burned wooden spoons, and pots without handles. Suddenly, I wanted everything new and clean, and I went on a mission to replace the old broken kitchen implements with new items (basting brushes, ladles, chopping boards that had been worn down. And I did the same with old towels today. And after doing so, I realized as I reached for a brand new skillet and a brand new clean spatula that what I am doing is the adult version of back to school. There are no new notebooks, clean erasers or freshly sharpened pencils in my life now—-but in spite of that, I feel as though the "year" is beginning, and I want everything fresh and clean to herald a new year. After so many years of living by the school calendar as a student, then briefly for a few years as a teacher, and finally for thirty years with nine children (and I still have one in school now), the school calendar is so ingrained in me that for me the new year begins when everyone goes back to school. And I want to see everything around me fresh and new and clean. I even picked out new fabric for my office curtains a few days ago. I can't see the fall season in with droopy, faded old curtains. (I picked crisp red ones with blue trim!!! I liked the old white curtains with red hearts on them better, but they are so old and faded now that I cant justify keeping them any longer. And fabrics with hearts on them seem to have gone out of style).

In any case, I feel like I am preparing for the winter, getting everything ready for the long months until next summer rolls around again. In September, I make resolutions that I don't make at New Year (to swim regularly and get more exercise), I've already shed the few extra pounds I gained this summer. I have an idea for a new book, and I am getting ready to 'sharpen my pencils', and my mind, put a new ribbon in my beloved ancient typewriter and get to work. I never write in the summer, but only when my kids go back to school. I have done that all their lives. So I guess it's a new school year for me too.

I love the feeling of newness that hits me at this time every year. The hope of a great year to come, new ideas, new plans, and the energy to get back to work with vim and vigor after the lazy months of summer. (I never work in the summer, so I can be with my kids and pay full attention to them. I wind up doing a little editing here and there in the summer months, but no serious work. I never write a book in summer. I don't want to miss a minute with my kids!!! Our summer vacations together are infinitely precious, and I don't want to spoil those now rare days by working, or locking myself in my office to write a book. That is a perfect activity for the winter months. In the summer, I want to be on a beach somewhere with my children, enjoy the  last few days of vacation over Labor Day, and then back to work with me…..hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go, just like one of the Seven Dwarves.

So technically, it may not be back to school for me, but it sure feels like it. Fall is already in the air, and the mind begins to turn to serious work. Not Algebra and geometry in my case, not Latin, or a new language to learn, no dorm to move into, bumping a trunk up the stairs to my room.  But new books to write, new ideas to develop, research to do, I love this time of year!!! It's 'back to school' for me!!!

Love, Danielle

Nick

Sept 20th is the hardest day of the year for me. It is the anniversary of the worst day of my life, but a memory of one of the best people I have known and loved. It is the anniversary of the death of my son Nick, who committed suicide at 19. He was bi polar (manic depressive) all his life, and today he would have been diagnosed by the time he was 4 years old (although I suspected it when he was 2 or even younger), and then psychiatrists didn't diagnose bi polar that early, so he wasn't diagnosed until he was 16, three years before he died.

He was an absolutely amazing person, with incredible talent in writing and music. He was the lead singer in a successful band, had toured the country with them several times,wrote songs and lyrics, was a terrific writer, and had a great sense of humor. He was a gorgeous, funny, wonderful boy, and so greatly loved by us all. In spite of his illness, he was one of the funniest people, and made us all laugh a lot of the time. (He never went anywhere without a whoopee cushion, and used it often and well, a tradition we've tried to live up to, although he was a lot gutsier about when he used it and on whom!!!). There are a million silly stories in the family about him, and he left a huge hole in all of us when he died. It is one of those terrible life events that change everything, you think you cant live through, but you have to. There is no other choice. He died 13 years ago, and would be 32 years old today, although that's hard to believe. It seems like he was here yesterday, and he will always be 19 in my mind. He will live forever in my heart.

I wrote a book about him, his victories and struggles with his illness. It's called "His Bright Light, the story of Nick Traina." And he is still remembered by his young fans, who write to his web site, still hang his posters and listen to his music in college dorms. His music was a mixture of punk and reggae, and some of his writing and lyrics were very wise for someone so young. He faced a lot of challenges with his illness and it gave him depth and maturity beyond his years. And in writing the book, I wanted to share the experience with others suffering from bi polar, or their loved ones or families, so they wouldn't feel so alone. Many people live well in spite of the disease, and lead productive lives. Nick wasn't one of the lucky ones to survive, but many people do.

So this is a hard day for me and my family. There is no easy way to get through it. His birthday is tough too (and most holidays when his absence is felt even more sorely than on ordinary days, when we feel it too). But his birthday is the anniversary of a once happy day, and he was such a joyful person that it's hard to remember in a sad way. But the anniversary of his passing is just a very tough day. Some years are worse than others. I used to try and spend the day in a useful way, and for 12 years, I spent it working among the homeless, which is one of my passions, and was something I got involved in because helping the homeless was very important to him. He played concerts for them whenever possible, and would always stop and buy someone a meal if he saw that they were in need on the streets. Last year I spent the day on an airplane, between Paris and New York, to meet two of my daughters for dinner so we could be together on a hard day. But it's pretty hard to turn this date into a good day. All we can do is remember him with all the love we had, be together, and know how much we miss him.

If you have lost someone you love dearly, my heart goes out to you as well. It's not an easy thing to live through, but we grow from it. All hard experiences make us stronger and better, wiser, more compassionate, more loving and even closer to those we love. I'm sure losing Nick has brought our family even closer than it was before. There are blessings in these hard experiences if you look for them. And as they say, you are stronger in the broken places. "In each loss there is a gain…..and with each ending comes a new beginning." Nicky's life was much too short, but what a huge blessing it was. Some life stories are not as long as we hope they will be, and I wish Nick's had been longer, but I am grateful for every minute we had with him for those precious 19 years. And he has helped so many people through the book I wrote about him, and the two foundations we established in his memory (for mental illness, and to help the homeless). May today be a peaceful, loving day for you, and I hope for us as well. Nick would have wanted it that way. Thank you for sharing these memories of him with me on this day.

Love, Danielle