Nancy Davidoff Kelton's Blog, page 7

Us Too

I like to think we’re getting there. Making progress, anyhow.In the NY Times Book Review Sunday, March 25, except for an essay collection, I WROTE THIS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, by Tim Kreider, every book reviewed is by a woman. And Tim Kreider’s is at the end on ‘the short list.’ And he is compared to David Sedaris and E.B. White. Yay for good essays and humor!Every reviewer in the March 25 issue is a woman except for Dwight Garner, the literary critic and onetime NY Times Book Review Senior Editor. With two other critics, he wrote the article ‘The New Vanguard’ about the “15 remarkable books by women that are shaping the way we read and write fiction in the 21st century.”Thank you, Pamela Paul! Glad you’re at the helm.Glad, too, to be restored on Sunday afternoon in ‘Restorative Yoga’ at my gym. The teacher, Linda, is lovely. Genuine. Calming. Her voice soothes. Unlike other yoga teachers, she does not use terms or get into poses that intimidate me. She’s like the Mr. Rogers of yoga. Unlike other classes—Vinyasa and Athletic to name a few, at which I’ve been stuck in the pretzel pose, or in some strange twist--Linda’s ‘Restorative Yoga’ is about gentle stretching, breathing, being, and getting totally relaxed.It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.My husband, Jonathan, was on the mat next to mine. In the moment and, as Linda says, ‘in the practice.’ In a class of seventeen, Jonathan was one of three men. Some Sundays, Jonathan is the only man. The previous Sunday, he went without me.His taking 'Restorative Yoga' is consensual.Love ‘N Stuff,NancyPs. Feel free to comment below. If you wish, tell us something you share or do with a family member or friend, or anything you want to say about Me Too.

My Almost Bathing Suit, My Always Strand

I went to Paragon Sporting Goods to buy a Speedo bathing suit. My old Speedo looks old. My other swimsuits don’t thrill me and don’t feel right when I swim laps.There were no Speedos in my size or style at Paragon. I tried on four other swimsuits. The saleswoman checked on me, saw I wasn’t doing well, and brought me three others. “These are just like the Speedo you wanted.”I tried them on. One had a very low back, another a ridiculously low front, and the third had almost no material anywhere no matter how much I pulled. NOTHING like the Speedo. The saleswoman said, “You might consider something with a skirt.”Oy!My mother, who swam through her late 70s, doing a decent crawl stroke too, wore a flowered number that looked like the bedspread my great aunt with no taste had, but she didn’t wear a bathing suit with a skirt. My grandma did. In her 80s. She wore a dark, plain bathing suit with a skirt when she waded in Lake Erie at Crystal Beach. Her friends, with whom she waded, also wore bathing suits with skirts.I left Paragon empty-handed.The next night I offered my second workshop in the rare book room of the Strand Bookstore. In most of my classes and workshops, I intersperse the lessons and pointers with guided writing exercises. The first at the Strand: a place where they feel comfortable. As their pens started moving, I thought about mine: in the rare book room of the Strand. I then had the Strand people write about a place where they were uncomfortable.Easy: trying on bathing suits.Love 'N Stuff, NancyFeel free to share below where you feel comfortable and/or uncomfortable.

Eve’s Faces, Our Faces, the Contest Winner

On Monday before watching THE THREE FACES OF EVE with Joanne Woodward weaving her magic as Eve White, Eve Black and Jane,* I got an email through the contact section on my website from a pediatrician who registered for my March 10 and March 12 workshops at the New School and the Strand Bookstore, saying she assumed from reading my memoir that she’d feel free writing about the depression in her family and her father’s suicide, subjects she’s wanted to tackle. She asked if the exercises would be different in the two workshops and if I’d address her questions about pursuing her writing afterwards, her plans to write a book, and her fears.Yes to all.A major thread of FINDING MR. RIGHTSTEIN is the mental illness in my family. And within each of us. We’re all a little crazy on this bus. No? I hope my writing helps readers see and understand their loved ones and themselves. And my teaching...it’s about guiding students to their truths. I’ve been told I provide a safe place, inspiring exercises, constructive suggestions for revising and pursuing what is in their hearts. I understand their fears.A young writer, new in my advanced class, is taking Monday’s Strand workshop. She already had a very poignant essay published she wrote in my class. Despite her initial fears of sharing her work with the older, longtime group members because of how daring, and revealing it is, she wowed them immediately. Wowed me—still wows me--bigtime.Whatever topics you wish to explore including: romantic misadventures, parenting, illnesses, abuse, addictions, divorce, births and deaths--I’m with you. 150% there.Would love to work with you and your friendsMarch 12-Strand Bookstore March 10-New School And….the winner of the February 11 Valentine contest is Anon. Congratulations, Anon! Congratulations to you all and thank you again for your entries. Anon, please email me your name and email address to ‘Contact’ on my website. I have a present for you.Here is Anon’s entry:To the one who means most- Your understanding and forgiving is true love. You allow for less than perfection. I know I am in love with you because my reality is finally better than my dreams.Anon Love ‘N Stuff, Nancy*Despite Joanne Woodward’s multiple movie disorder, she went home to Paul Newman. Talk about a cure.

VALENTINES AND A CONTEST FOR YOU

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” -Maya Angelo The library wasn’t yet open Friday after I mailed Valentines to my Rightstein family at the post office. With the book I was reading, Eve Ensler’s IN THE BODY OF THE WORLD, (I’m seeing the show next week), I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for the $2.00 breakfast special.My father smiled from his Bridge table in heaven.A book and a bargain. I got it, Dad. The other stuff, too. Family. Love. Family. Engaging work. Family. Laughter. Family. Happy Valentine’s Day to Mom and you.IN THE BODY OF THE WORLD is not a vagina monologue. It’s Eve’s cancer story. Now cancer-free and performing, she writes her “second wind” is “not about having or getting or buying or acquisition…You worry about germs and stockpile your herbs, but they will not save you, nor will your fancy house or gated villages. The only salvation is kindness. The only way out is care.”Eve, Valentines to you.At the library, I picked up the picture book I’d reserved, DEAR GIRL. Being oneself, spirit, chutzpah, and saying “no” are written about with simplicity. Heart.The quote on the library chalkboard: “Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a little kinder than is necessary?” J.M. Barrie, from THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD (1902).Valentines to Barrie and to DEAR GIRL authors Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Paris Rosenthal.Valentines and love to YOU. Thank you for reading my blog, posting comments, and letting me know how you are. I truly appreciate your showing up.Now a contest for you: In 25 words or less (no more) write a Valentine in the ‘Comment’ section to a love in your life. Past. Present. Living. Deceased. If not to a person, to a place. A passion. A thing. Someone or something you love.Two impartial judges will pick a winner. I’ll send a prize. If you are not someone I know, please email me your email address through the ‘Contact’ section here on my website: www.nancykelton.com.You can enter more than once. The deadline is: February 25. The winner will be posted here the first week in March.Happy Valentine’s Day and my heartfelt gratitude to you!Love ‘n Stuff,Nancy

Teaching

Spring semester started. We’re cookin’. Moving along in great, surprising ways. A question a relative, one of my favorite people on the planet, recently asked, “How come you became a teacher?” coupled with several occurrences has inspired me to write a magazine piece on my almost-half-a-century teaching.Here’s some of what I’ll flesh out:In a New School multi-gender restroom, a young man at the next sink took a copy of my book, ‘Writing from Personal Experience’ from his backpack and asked me to sign it. (a first at any sink in any restroom) He’d read several chapters, got closed out of my class—it’s filled—and just registered for my March Strand workshop. “My buddy took your class last year. He said you’re nice, but tough. I need that.”Good. I use my toughness and niceness differently with different students. I keep learning. And learning ‘them.’ I love that challenge.Two women, from my August Strand Bookstore Workshop, just joined my advanced class. One, a member 15 years ago and new to the present group, came to Session #1 with a strong, revealing essay and strong, direct comments on others’ work. I love honesty. I love ‘unafraid.’ The youngest member of my workshop just had a piece published that she wrote in her first class with me. I spotted her talent immediately. Our lives could not be more different, but in writing her truths, she understands what is inside of me.I love when that happens. I love that my Strand workshop is happening again. I love that three August attendees sold the essays they wrote there. Again, I’ll use my 48 years of teaching to instruct. Inspire. Engage. Give attendees excellent exercises allowing them to dig deep and be themselves.Join us March 12. I love the Strand.A student in my class for 10 years, who’s been publishing his essays and now writing a terrific memoir, gave me a Roz Chast book with a lovely note on which he wrote: “I started your class with the intention of recording some family stories for the next generation. You’ve taken me so much farther than that.”I became a teacher because I love sharing what I know and can share in my students’ growth.I would love to work with you, too. Link to register: http://www.strandbooks.com/event/personal-in-print-with-nancy-keltonMore about this under “Events” on my website Love ‘n Stuff,NancyPs. My next blogpost will have a contest for you.

My $79 Soup

Woke up Tuesday with a leaky beaky. Watery eyes. An itchy throat. No gym today. Yay!I went to Citarella for soup greens and a chicken. And cranberries, celery, and apples for my sweet chicken salad. And extra carrots for the soup. Yum!At home, I did what I’ve been doing for 48 years at the stove making soup. Then went into my office to work, planning to emerge frequently to check it out and breathe it in. My muse and I caucused at the computer. I got fully engaged in my writing, forgetting about my non-drowsy Claritin symptoms. And what was on the stove.Oops!No liquid in the big pot. Just chicken, noodles, soup greens, carrots, and extra carrots. I bundled up again, returned to Citarella for 4 pints of chicken stock, got in the very long 6:00 pm. check-out line, and asked the woman behind me if she’d please hold my place while I got juice. Two quarts of freshly squeezed, very, very expensive orange juice. Healing liquids were required. Who knew if I’d screw up again?Returning to the line, I thanked the woman. She was putting a giant size bar of Lindt Milk Chocolate in her cart. “My guilty little pleasure,” she said, smiling. “Good idea,” I said, putting two giant size bars of Lindt Milk Chocolate in my cart. “They go well with soup.”On my way home, I stopped at Breads Bakery for two babkas. They go well with chicken soup, too.The soup turned out brown-ish from the overcooked, maybe a tad burnt, but oh so sweet extra carrots. Delicious. We had seconds. Seconds in chocolate and babka, too.I’m better today. I’m heading to a panel at the Friars Club, and then to the PEN New Books Party. ‘Finding Mr. Rightstein’ and I qualify.First, I’m having a bowl of my $79 soup.Love ‘n StuffNancyPs. I am sparing you soup photos. One has brown liquid. The other has none.

Betsy Goldstein's Book Club

Before our Bennett High reunion in Buffalo in 2015, I had not seen or spoken to Betsy Goldstein since the prom in ‘65. After the reunion, she stayed in touch with regular blog comments and emails. Unable to attend events at my Buffalo 2016 book launch because she was out of the country, she sent apologies, and her neighbors and friends. Strangers approached me at Larkin Square, Talking Leaves, and the Buffalo Public Library with one to several books, saying, “Betsy Goldstein sent me,” “I’m Betsy Goldstein’s neighbor.” And more.A few weeks ago, she wrote that her book club would be discussing FINDING MR. RIGHTSTEIN the following night. I had a commitment that evening, but told her had she let me know, we could have Skyped. She said she didn’t want to bother me. Bother? It would have been my pleasure and privilege.Flashback to a prepubescent August upon returning from Camp Tamakwa where I learned (sort of) how to levitate people. I immediately called Betsy and asked if I could come over with a few girls --she’d supply a few others—and we’d levitate her. She was game. I knew she would be. I can’t remember if we got her or the others off the ground (Betsy, Inez, Bette, please write me if you remember) but we laughed ourselves silly in Betsy’s living room that afternoon.The day after her recent book club meeting, Betsy emailed me the above photo along with the group’s comments and questions. Positive comments, many about the humor and truth telling. Excellent, probing questions about mental illness, my family, dating, film/theater adaptations, and what I learned through my writing. I’ve been mulling over their questions and hope to respond to Betsy’s people soon. My answers are complex, but a short one here: I learned much about myself, the people I love and loved, and commas.I’m learning, too, about marketing. It’s surprising. Challenging. Disappointing. Wonderful. I’ve been pissed. Elated. And touched. My instincts were right-on at age 11 when I called Betsy Goldstein to levitate. Mildred in my book would say she's "a gem."

Woody’s New Movie and My New Leak

Before the leak, we had 2 bathrooms. We’re down to one plus a room with a pail on the toilet, plastic covering the floor and sink, and a hole and bubbles in the ceiling onto which the people upstairs dripped.I freaked out with the doorman’s unexpected 6:00 am wake-up call, telling us about the problem in our bathroom (the one we had redone last year) near the kitchen and that the handyman thought it came from the apartment above, but wasn’t sure. The tenants weren’t home. Or not answering their door. The water in our line was turned off.During a break from writing, I called my friend, Judy, who reminded me of my previous leaks in other rooms. We moved onto other topics including: our families. Our kids and their kids are all right. Far more than all right. They’re terrific. My leak became the teeniest annoyance.***I saw ‘Wonder Wheel,’ liked it, loved Kate Winslet’s performance and character. Whether he’s funny or serious, Woody Allen writes terrific women. The negative reviews surprised me. And didn’t. ‘Wonder Wheel’ isn’t ‘Hannah and Her Sisters’ or ‘Crimes and Misdemeanors.’ It isn’t ‘Annie Hall,’ but what is?And we’re living in the #MeToo era.I am more supportive and gung-ho now than I was when the Harvey Weinstein stuff broke. I am optimistic things will be different.I know people who don’t see Woody Allen’s movies. Whether he has done anything wrong or not is a whole other story. How does one separate an artist’s work from his personal life? And what other American filmmaker has given us so many thought-provoking movies, such rich female characters, so many great lines, and such humor?Kate Winslet’s character has been the subject of discussions in my house and with friends. She’s timeless. She’s all of us. We’re lucky we have a filmmaker who gives us something on the page and screen to chew on.Feel free to comment, disagree, agree, share below, on fb, or under ‘Contact’ on my website: .I appreciate you all showing up here and I wish you a Happy, Healthy New Year filled with love, laughter, and adventures.Love ‘n Stuff,Nancy

4 Birthdays and Some Wisdom

My friend, Cindy, turned 70 December 14 the date my ‘Finding Mr. Rightstein' editor, Kendra, turned something younger. I emailed Kendra Happy Birthday wishes. I will take Cindy out after her Florida trip. We’ve been friends since we were 12. She had her hair done at Cecilia’s Salon for her Bat Mitzvah. Check out the beehive she did herself for the surprise 17th birthday luncheon she threw for me. Lucky me to have a treasured friend, who moved to NYC when I did. We celebrate birthdays and more. On December 8, my father would have turned 109. I hear him every day. His remarks are part of my family’s lore. Aunt Dora had a standing 10:00 am hair appointment on Saturday and stopped by after on her way home. My father would look up from his book and say, “What’s the matter? They didn’t take you?”In his 80s, upon discovering that the doctor, assigned to visit and treat my mother daily in the hospital, never saw her and had no clue who she was, he notified the hospital head and the AMA of the scam. The doctor was fired. His license was revoked.Mainly, my father’s advice, spirit, and life guide me. He didn’t want things. Reading, Bridge, and the cheapest Early Bird Specials delighted him. His family delighted him more. “Family is everything,” he reminded me from childhood on. The extended family now--through marriages and births—would make his heart sing as it does mine. His other reminders:--don’t keep up with Joneses, they don’t know what they’re doing,--grades in school don’t matter, but a sense of humor and kindness do--the getting is in the giving--belligerence is the belligerent person’s problem. Not yours. For years, both a relative and a colleague hammered my father. He shrugged. Pitied them. Forgave.His advice, like my mother’s, took years to appreciate. Our parents are right about most things. Listen.My father kvelled each time I had a piece published. He said after each rejection “It only takes one.” My One’s birthday is December 22. We’ll go to a restaurant we like and go out with his kids the next night. Jonathan majored in kindness, forgiving, and giving. I love other things about him, too. But his kindness and generosity of spirit continue to wow me. “There are so few opportunities in life when we can help and give to others,” he says. I’m sorry my folks didn’t meet him. I’m so glad I did.

Weinstein ‘n Franken ‘n Stuff

Since the Harvey Weinstein stuff broke, a day has not gone by without other men being called out, and women coming forward with Me Too stories and information. I assume you’re thinking about it, discussing it with family and friends, and having opinions, possibly mixed and changing. I have nothing brilliant or new to add, just some thoughts and feelings.I got very angry and very sad today about Al Franken’s resignation and then listening to his speech. I wished he had said, “I’d consider resigning if the man in the Oval Office resigns first. His history of sexual assaults, about which he has publicly bragged, is far more disgusting and disgraceful.” Franken has done a lot for women. Bless him!I’ve wondered since the beginning with Weinstein how much the actors, writers, directors, and all who were produced by his company knew all along. Did they? Did they pretend not to? Did they look the other way? What about all the politicians? Do I think things will change going forward? I hope so. I’ll do my part.I’ve thought about three scumbags I’ve encountered: a man, with whom I had two dates, I got rid of him in seconds--and a doctor and lawyer. I walked out of their offices before anything happened. Two of my closest friends mentioned just this week that sleazes never came onto them. I reminded one of a sleaze who had. Which reminded me of Nora Ephron writing about interning for JFK and wondered what was wrong with her. She was the only one he didn’t hit on. Taking care of myself and speaking up--my parents encouraged me to do so. Bless them. Although I’m too old and too happily married for outside sexual assaults, I am direct and vocal when I am judged, erased, excluded, dismissed, and treated unkindly. I hope you are, too.Yesterday, on the phone with my friend, Judy, I read her the Times ‘arts’ piece on John Oliver ‘tangling’ with Dustin Hoffman about his accused sexual misconduct in 1985. This occurred in a panel discussion NOT on that topic at the 92nd Street Y. Really, John Oliver? Really?This morning, discussing that with my husband, he asked, “When do we stop looking backwards at someone’s life?” Something to chew on. Feel free to comment or ‘chew’ on any of the above.Love ‘n Stuff, Nancy