Nancy Davidoff Kelton's Blog, page 5

My Red Sox Guy

Yesterday while I was reading the newspaper, my husband asked, “Will you take a picture of me in my Red Sox outfit?” “I didn’t know you had one.” I’d never seen Jonathan in his Red Sox outfit. At home or out. Growing up in Newton, MA not far from his grandparents, he was close to his grandfather, who took him to Red Sox games. He also took him to work--he started and built a successful business—on errands, fishing, and for ice cream in the middle of the day during summers at the beach, often driving on hilly roads because the car rides were fun. They played gin rummy. Poppi had card sense and usually won. He called his 5 children almost every night. Jonathan speaks lovingly of experiences with his grandfather, their connection, and who he was: warm, generous, and smart. My grandfathers died long before I was born. I wonder what they were like and what we might have had. I know about them from what my parents told me and from pictures. All over our apartment are pictures of my family and Jonathan’s. We have one long wall of groupings and collages with every member. Five generations from our grandparents to our grandkids. I love to look at them. I smile at them. Think about them all. Past. Present. Future. All mensches. Our team. Our clan.

Elaine May

I saw “The Waverly Gallery” in previews last night. Elaine May’s return to Broadway after 50 years is beyond wonderful.I am grateful my parents taught me that people who see and say it hilariously, satirically, humanly, and poignantly reign supreme. I am grateful for Mike Nichols and Elaine May. My LP of Mike Nichols-Elaine May sketches is one of the few vinyl records I saved and still have. In the early 1980s in my early 30s, when I was newly separated, I listened to Nichols and May. Alone. At night. Often on Saturday nights. They filled me up. I didn’t feel lonely. I was exhilarated. Inspired. My pen moved. I wrote sketches. I performed, one with my friend, Michael, at the Improvisation.In 1986, I had a magazine piece published called “My Career as a Comedienne.” That career lasted one night.If you want a true treat, watch Elaine May on YouTube with Mike Nichols in their $65 funeral sketch and then watch her salute when he received the American Film Institute Lifetime Achievement Award. Brilliant!

WRITER! WRITER!

I recently attended an event at The General Society of Merchanics and Tradesmen of the City of New York at which Erika Goldman, publisher and editorial director of Bellevue Literary Press, and Diane DeSanders, author of the autobiographical novel, “Hap & Hazard and the End of the World,” were interviewed.The author, a fifth generation Texan, read an excerpt that pulled me right in. Her unnamed child narrator felt what I felt, got under my skin and inside my heart, despite our very different backgrounds. At the signing, I asked Diane if we might arrange an interview when I finished reading the book.On one of the hottest summer afternoons, Diane came over. We had quite a schmooze fest.About everything.--the words Hap and Hazard in the title replaced Diane’s first choice: ‘Nip and Tuck.’--she is in her 70s. This is her first novel. It took her years to write before which she had many jobs. She taught and worked in the theater in all areas from stagehand to set designer to playwright.--the parents in the book, Dick and Jane, are the names of her parents. Events in her childhood were springboards for this fiction. The focus changed from an adopted neighbor, who figures into the story, to the little girl, she modeled after herself.Such good characters! What a read! Intimate! Funny. Sad. Scary. Dick, the Dallas father who works in his family’s Cadillac business after World War 2, flies into rages. Mom Jane, a homemaker, is there and isn’t. And two little sisters, two grandmothers, who are so different, other relatives, and neighbors are all mysteries to the lonely child narrator who tries to understand her complex family and longs for her parents’ attention. “I wanted to show the whole universe, the whole world I came from,” Diane said.In writing about a specific, complicated family and a particular childhood, Diane captures much about class, race, intimacy, the dynamics between men and women, between parents and children, coming of age, religion, innocence, lost innocence, and sex.Mostly, we discussed the writing. Her sentences, often long, kept me right there. In the hands of lesser writer, they would not. “I was there,” Diane said. “Engaged. Present. There was an urgency.”An urgency. Of course.I asked if age made it easier to be so vulnerable. She nodded. “I’m done being mad, done being resentful.”We got to what she learned from writing the book? “Before this, I wrote short pieces and stories,” she said, telling me about studying with Gordon Lish and the places where her short work was published. “What I learned writing the book was how to write a book.”

25 Thoughts at the H-Ocean

In Montauk, looking out from our porch at the hocean.That’s what one of my grandmothers called the ocean. The hocean.I’ve been thinking of her, of both of my grandmothers.I’m thinking more about my grandchildren.I’m thinking, too, about other family members.The hocean and David Sedaris’s new book, “Calypso,” which I read out here, are making me think of my family.Sedaris’s parents, siblings, husband, humor, and pain invariably do that.Humor in pain. Pain in humor. Of course.My husband is on the beach now re-reading Mark Twain.My father always had a Mark Twain book on his night table.And quoted Twain all the time.I’m going to share a great Twain quote on writing at my Jewish Book Council workshop Wednesday, Sept. 5. I know two of the people who have already registered. Link to Register.I’m excited to teach this workshop Wednesday. I’ve loved my summer classes.And hated the bout of ‘occipital neuralgia’ I got upon arriving in Montauk.It’s a nerve thing in the head. I had it 4 years ago. I phoned my neurologist in NYC who diagnosed and treated it.He died.His son, who took over his practice, told me to take Aleve.My neurologist’s death is a shocker.So is his having a neurologist son, who took over his practice.I thought the son of my now deceased neurologist was much younger. Like in lower elementary school.Jonathan said maybe he is.Laughter helps.Everything.I’m better now. Sunshine, swimming, lobster rolls, and Sedaris helped.So does the hocean.

Summer in the City: Blintzes, Neil Simon, and the Jewish Book Council

If you can go through life without experiencing pain, you probably haven't been born yet. Neil Simon (July 4, 1927 – August 26, 2018) For reasons that are neither interesting nor worth a few sentences here (they have to do with a rental car), my husband and I were at Katz’s last Saturday before 10:30 am. It was my first time there in 41 years. I typically don’t eat ‘that way’ anymore. Unlike the people around us scarfing down pastrami sandwiches at 10:30 am, we ordered blintzes with fruit. Talk about delicious. I won’t (and can’t) wait 41 years to eat Katz’s blintzes again.Thank you everyone for your emails and comments on “A Mildred Kind of Therapist,” my op-ed piece in The Baltimore Sun, also my August 18 blog post. Mildred meant the world to me. Writing about people, who have died, allows me to keep them close. So does reading their work. I reread “The Odd Couple” last night and plan to get to Neil Simon’s others in the next few weeks. I saw his early plays on Broadway with my parents. I got to his later ones on my own when I moved to NYC. Thank you, Neil Simon, for making me laugh and hitting the right notes. Oscar and Felix and the others you created live on.Every attendee at my Strand workshop last week was writing. We filled up the rare book room. Literally. Spiritually. I loved every second there.No waiting 41 years to offer my next workshop. It’s next week, September 5: 6:30-8:30 at the Jewish Book Council. My writing exercises will be different from those at the Strand. Registration is required in advance. If you were at the Strand and plan to attend the JBC workshop, let me know. I'll try to wear something different, too. Link to Jewish Book Council Workshop

A Mildred Kind of Therapist

My essay, “A Mildred Kind of Therapist,” is on The Baltimore Sun op-ed page Sunday, August 19. Here’s the link to The Baltimore Sun’s online version.Love ‘n Stuff,NancyPs. Link to register for my August 22 Strand workshop. Soon I’ll promote my Sept. 5 Jewish Book Council workshop instead of this. “It’s always something.” roseanne roseannadanna

My Biker Guy ‘N Stuff

My Biker Guy and our Biker Nephew rode in their 4th Dana Farber Pan Mass Challenge Saturday in memory of Jill Birnbaum, our loving niece, sister, daughter, and friend.It was rainier and hotter than previous years. Young Jonathan said the hills at the end of the 85-mile-ride were bigger. You, too, can take a great and meaningful ride in the rare book room of the Strand Bookstore August 22 at my writing workshop. You’ll be inspired and surprised as you caucus with your muse. Registration link: Nancy at The Strand

Nuts

Before taking off from LA to NYC last week, I was about to open a bag of mixed nuts I bought at LAX when a flight attendant announced that the people in rows 8 through 10 (us) were not to eat nuts. A passenger among us was allergic.I shared this food restriction request with my class the other day. Several students said they’ve been told not to eat certain foods on planes and elsewhere. For me, it was a first. One said his father is allergic to every food imaginable, refuses to deal with it, and doesn't want anyone to know. I’m thinking of other students and food allergies. A woman, in my advanced class for years, wrote an essay about her son’s peanut allergy. It was published in a well-known, well-paying magazine. She received tons of fan mail. Another wrote and sold several touching, funny pieces on aspects of her daughter’s dairy allergy: her college junior-year in Australia, vacationing, and dating (including an incident at a Dairy Queen). Still another wrote about his own serious food allergies from his first birthday cake, at school, with friends, and now with his fiancé. He’s a gifted composer/musician. I’m hoping he did something with his allergy essays. He struck familiar chords.Mainly, I’m thinking of our different ways of moving through the world. And dealing. With our issues. Children. Parents. Partners. Siblings. Friends. Co-workers. Students. New situations. Frightening situations. Discomfort. Joy. Everything.We’re all nuts on this bus. We all have nuttiness in our families. Those who claim or pretend otherwise...wouldn't you say they're the nuttiest of us all?Love ‘n Stuff,NancyPS August 22-6:30-8:30: it’ll be happening in the rare book room of the Strand Bookstore. You’ll write, get ideas, get going, and get in touch with your best, most surprising self. Register for my workshop at: Nancy at the Strand

Simple Rules for Life

Home from a wonderful 13-day trip to Oregon and California seeing family, friends, and much in between. The ride along the Pacific coast is grand. Car trips take me back to the best of my childhood. Relaxing. Fun.Less relaxing and fun is coming home to the pipe explosion in our Flatiron ‘hood. TV camera crews, so much additional security, Con Ed representatives, and American Red Cross nurses are stationed a block away. And will remain there. Last night, we attended an asbestos meeting in the school across the street. Although our building seems to be out of the contamination area from which residents evacuated, we’ve arranged to have inspectors give our apartment an air quality test.I’ll write a new blog soon. Meantime, here is a list of rules my husband emailed me Tuesday morning, our second day back at work, while he was meeting with a belligerent colleague.Simple Rules for Life1. Be kind to others. Know that other people are doing the best they can with the resources they have.2. Be kind to yourself. YOU are doing the best you can with the resources you have.3. Never stop growing and striving for more from yourself.4. Be willing to let go and FORGIVE yourself and others.5. SMILE! It’s all working out as it’s supposed to. Jonathan dealt with his colleague in his usual kind, low-keyed way.I wanted to post a photo here of Jonathan’s kind face. You can picture him.

Oregon With Longtime Friends

In Ashland, our last Oregon stop, we saw the Elizabethan Theater and a cellist in Lithia Park, both treats even in 99-degree weather. We’re still agape from Crater Lake. Awesome!The reason for our Oregon trip: Phil Margolin’s wedding in Black Butte. In 1967, I fixed Phil up with my college roommate, Doreen. In 1968, I was their maid of honor.We remained close friends, spoke constantly, and visited each other in NYC and Portland. I wrote about our friendship and about Doreen’s 2007 death in ‘Finding Mr. Rightstein.' I stayed in touch with Phil. We spent a lot of time talking about Doreen. We still do. She was a super friend. A super human being. That the light in Phil's eyes returned with Melanie is such a gift. Second chances at love are grand.Before going to Black Butte, we spent a day in Portland. Despite no merchandise with John Waters’ lines, Powell's Books is cool. Even cooler was being in Lake Oswego with Inez. Inez, my friend since the first ten minutes of first grade 64 years ago, had both 'Finding Mr. Rightstein' and 'Writing From Personal Experience' out on her porch table. She and Bruce, her husband, whom I’ve known 59 years, welcomed Jonathan and me with so much love and warmth. Talk about old home week.Later, after a long walk and dinner by the water, Jonathan and I let Inez get away with words that weren't words when we played Scrabble. I did, too, when she and I played alone after. Why challenge someone who gets me, not some version of me? Inez, the next time we play, I'll have the two-letter word list with me.