Nancy Davidoff Kelton's Blog, page 8

I Am Thankful

I am thankful I don’t have to line up in size places.Or take SATs.I am thankful that the farmers market is a block away.And that I can walk there, to the theater and to my favorite restaurants and bookstores.Alone or with my husband.I am thankful I can walk.I am thankful for work that engages me.I am thankful for the loyalty and support of wonderful, longtime friends.Including those who go back to first and second grade.I am thankful one came over this week offering support on a scary, new project.I am thankful for people who show up.I am thankful for kindness.And forgiveness.I am thankful for lox with or without a bagel and cream cheese.I am thankful my neighborhood grocer has had a month-long sale on camembert.I am thankful for meditation.And a good-enough haircutter.And competent doctors.And, for the moment, that I am in good health.I am thankful that the members of my family are in good health.I am thankful I am not:a. homelessb. pennilessc .humorless I am most thankful every day for my amazing, precious family—my greatest wealth--beautiful inside and out.

4 Halloween Treats

Two longtime friends took me out for my 70th birthday:  Stephanie to an Italian restaurant and Cindy to a cool place in her hood. Stephanie brought the essay she wrote in my Strand Bookstore workshop and just had published.  A gem. So is the piece she wrote in my New School workshop.  It will be published next month. Even with regular emailing and getting together, Stephanie attends and pays for my workshops, claiming the exercises and space get her going.  I love watching her ‘go.'Last year when I didn’t see her at my Finding Mr. Rightstein events, I called her.  She’d been sick.  I took her a copy.  She emailed me the next day. She finished it and already posted reviews.  Months later, I attended a reading of her work. Six of her friends told me they liked my book. Stephanie bought them copies.Two nights later, Cindy reminded me of two things her mother constantly said: You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. I’m blessed with honey friends. The other:  a leopard doesn’t change its spots after I told her about a leopard who disappointed me.  Again. Since seventh grade, Cindy and I have been through leopards and everything else. When her first marriage ended, I plied her with liquor. When my first marriage ended, she called every morning before 7:30. For my 17th birthday, she made me a surprise party. At her 50th birthday luncheon, I gave the toast.  She flew to Buffalo for my mother’s funeral, was the first person to send a food basket when my father died, made sure I wasn't alone for every birthday and holiday when I was single and bought 15 copies of my memoir. In high school, I  jumped into her moving car with the lousy breaks.58 years of laughing, sharing, and saying things we’d never tell another living soul.After dinner the other night, we walked through her neighborhood, taking in the beautiful homes with their pumpkins, witches, and ghosts.  Nothing tricky!  An enormous treat!So was getting another letter—the third—from my prison fan.  He read James Baldwin’s If Beale Street Could Talk which I recommended, gave his opinion, wrote about the things in Finding Mr. Rightstein he and his friends—incarcerated and not—discussed, and what about my voice,  letters, and writing book are helping him with his memoir. It is the New School. And it was Halloween, but when I saw my student, Darren, at 12th and 5th, I had no clue who it was at first even though he told me last week he’d be coming to class and to our one-on-one conference beforehand as a ‘slut.’ When I got it, we started our conference as we walked. Darren showed his vulnerability at the first class five weeks ago when he announced that he checked out the classroom the day before, so he might be a little less scared. I said I did, too.  We’ve been connecting ever since. His life—and hair, it’s purple-- could not be more different from mine, but his writing and truths resonate with me.  Darren and the rest of my Tuesday students have dared to reveal themselves.  For me, another treat.

Windows 10 and My Geek Squad

My new computer arrived last Wednesday.  I was afraid to take it out of the box.A person from the Geek Squad arrived Friday.  He took it out, set it up, and explained uploading, downloading, browsers, drives, speeds, and Windows 10.“You understand what I’m saying?” he asked more than once, not letting me near it. More than once, I shook my head.  “I learn by doing,” I said.Tutoring would be another additional charge.  The first was setting my new printer* which he did after uploading ‘necessary’ programs, which he said will slow the process in the beginning,** then mentioned that this model has had problems.  Nothing serious.  If I find any, I could return or exchange it within 30 days.  I was then allowed a few minutes in front of it.   “Anything you want to say before I leave?” he asked.“Yes. I’m not comfortable using it,” I said.He left.  I left, too. I was afraid to be in my apartment with my new computer. On Saturday, I left when Jonathan left for his office so I could use a computer in the New School faculty room.   On Sunday, we sat down together to get it going.  It didn’t go. It wheezed.  We couldn’t open ‘word,’ email, or use my new software program, which is why I got a new computer and windows 10.  I need the program for my current project.I called the Geek Squad.  Three times.  Twice we lost the connection.  My home office phone has problems.  With the third call, I was told there’d be a 20-minute wait.  If I choose to hang up, someone would call me within a half hour. No Geek Squadders called.  Within a half hour.  Or at all.  Sunday night, Jonathan tried “a little something” he does when his computer freezes.  It worked.  I got comfortable enough to load my new software program.The program has a zillion formatting, uploading, and downloading instructions. When Jonathan left for work yesterday and this morning, I left, too.  I’m afraid to be alone in the apartment with the program.  *I bought my last printer at Staples when I had no man or Geek Squad in my life. With a phone call to my salesperson, I hooked it up by myself.  And I’m the most technically challenged person I know.**My process isn’t just slow at the beginning.

My 70th Birthday - Rebecca

It’s been a while.  My family, watching my grandchildren, writing, celebrating my 70th birthday, more writing and more celebrating have kept me super busy. Happily. With her wishes, “Happy Birthday YOUNG lady” my stepdaughter, Rebecca, gave me 2 tickets to the TCM Classic film tour, which Jonathan and I took Saturday, the only New Yorkers on the bus.  Columbus Circle: a film history and 4 clips beginning with On the Town (1949), the first movie musical shot on location. Up Central Park West: Tavern on the Green, the Dakota (clips from The Eddie Duchin Story, Ghost Busters, Three Men and a Baby, Rosemary’s Baby) the Ansonia, Zabars (The Sunshine Boys, Manhattan, You’ve Got Mail) and down to Lincoln Center (Westside Story, Moonstruck, Annie Hall). I’ve seen Annie Hall a zillion times, owned it before I owned a VCR—thanks to my friend, Michael, his 40th birthday present. I didn’t know the last scene was shot at O’Neals Saloon, now P.J Clarkes.  Through Central Park, at the Met, down Fifth, at the Plaza: Butterfield 8, Barefoot in the Park, more Woody Allen, Neil Simon, and of course The Way We Were. Memories…..Barbra, Woody…like the way we were.  And are.A sweet present from my film buff stepdaughter. Her presence-even sweeter. She joined Jonathan and me last month in CA while we watched our grandchildren, told me a secret immediately, and another one the next morning at the Kids Space Museum in Pasadena during a moment alone.  We’ve evolved to this. The night she sang show tunes while I played them on the piano helped. So does her assistance and lack of judgment with my technical challenges.  And my understanding of her. She calls me about a ridiculous, reoccurring matter at her job.  I get her family and personal stuff. “We’re all second children,” I said at dinner as we noticed similarities her father, my little granddaughter, she and I have.They’re so sweet and smart,” she constantly said for 5 days about the kids, in their playroom, at the playgrounds, on neighborhood walks, at the pool and at bedtime. Rebecca does voices when she reads.  Miss Nelson is Missing and everything Frog and Toad have been favorites.  Repeats.  My grandson and I laugh. “Who is Viola Swamp?” he asks. He knew it was Miss Nelson.  He knew it was Miss Nelson when Rebecca read it at our Chanukkah gathering.  Asking and pretending he doesn’t know it is part of our family lore.Rebecca got sad her last night in CA after we put the kids to bed. “It’s nice having people care who don’t have to."Yes.Rebecca's Facebook profile picture

'Unusual Friend' Winners

Greetings from CA where I celebrated my birthday with my family and am now spending the week with my two little grandchildren, who make my heart sing.I may share more about my milestone birthday in an upcoming blog.  Now I’m posting the results of the August 31 ‘unusual friend’ contest blog.  I asked 2 people to be the judges. I could not be impartial. I know some of you.All the entries were sweet, funny, touching, good.  The two judges picked Mickey’s first entry about the priest and the car and Judy G.’s about striking up a conversation with a woman in the mail room of her NYC apartment building.Check out the August 31 ‘comment’ section to read the entries.Brava to the winners!   Brava to all!Love ‘n Stuff,Nancyp.s. The next contest  will not have so much writing and will be a lot less work.

My Buffalo Friend, My Prison Fan, and a Contest for You

A conversation with my Buffalo friend, Ann, and my correspondence with my prison fan, James, are making my heart sing.James, whom I blogged about here June 14, just sent me another letter in care of my publisher saying my writing advice,  in response to his letter and in “Writing from Personal Experience” which he read after it fell on his toe in the prison library, helped him revise and deepen his work. He has been sending his pieces to contests, is happily writing, and is very engaged in the process.He bought and read “Finding Mr. Rightstein,” bought it for his friends in and out of prison and wanted me to know that everyone from  Long Island princesses to hardened criminals are laughing  their ‘a…..s’ off. James mentioned he expects to have his memoir published eventually.  I believe he will.  I hope I’m among the first to know.   In the letter I’m sending to James later, I am recommending James Baldwin’s novel, “If Beale Street Could Talk”  which I just read.  Some of it takes place in prison.  I loved it. Love Baldwin.  I recommend the book and Baldwin to you.I called Ann, my parents' friend, now mine  We got close after my father died.  In her late 80s, she shares much with me about who they were other than my mother and father.  Observations and moments about my mother’s moxie, independence, and warmth, and reminders of my father's intellect and humor touch and tickle me.Connecting with Ann and James enrich me.Your turn now:  A contest: in 50 words or less, but not one more than 50, write in the ‘comment’ section here about an unlikely friendship of yours (eg. because of age, distance, different places in life,whatever).  Two impartial judges will pick the winner.  Because I know some of you, I will not do the picking. Entries are due by Sept. 11.   I will post the winner in a blog on September 13.  Have fun with it!Love ‘n Stuff,Nancy

Aaron Burr, the Strand, and the Room Where It’s Happening

Before my Strand workshop Wednesday, I was nervous. I’m always nervous before a workshop or book talk.  Then, 15 minutes before show time, I walked into the store’s third floor rare book room where my event was being held with my 4 pages of notes, post-its in my two books with the snippets I’d read—all lead-ins to  the writing exercises I’d be giving, two hand outs—a tip sheet and reading list—and throat lozenges.  I was greeted by a sea of warm, welcoming faces of many, already seated attendees and of Kaylen and Nick, members of the Strand’s super events team, setting up extra chairs, checking people in, and giving out the gift bags,   And… I was There.  Comfortable.  Home.I love teaching, have been at it for 40-some years. Love the Strand, have been shopping there for 50. I moved to New York in 1967. I’ve loved the responsiveness and availability of the Strand staff whether I’m buying or browsing, and in the last few months, the responsiveness and availability of the events staff.Wednesday‘s attendees included:  strangers, a former student,  friends of students, two people who registered for my fall New School class, my close longtime friend, Stephanie, a widely published writer who has taken—and paid for---my workshops, where she gets ideas, starts essays and gets them published, and Elin, the only published writer I knew in the 1970s.  She helped me then.  Such fun to get reacquainted!  Wednesday night, I spoke.  The people, who came to write, wrote. They took notes.  Wrote.  And wrote more.  Excited. Challenged. Free.  At the beginning, a woman said she’d probably leave early because she’s allergic to dust and assumed there was dust in the rare book room.   After the second writing exercise, she raised her hand to say she was so engaged in her writing that everyone and everything around her seem to disappear.  Dust?Surrounded by books and people who open up, engage, and connect is Heaven.  In Hamilton, Aaron Burr sings about being in the room where it happens. Woody Allen says 80% of life is showing up.  I think it’s more like 110%. With creating.  With everything.Love ‘n Stuff,NancyPs.  My next blog post will include a contest for you!!!

My Biker Guy

My biker guy rode in the Dana Farber Pan Mass Challenge in Massachusetts Saturday in loving memory of our niece, Jill Birnbaum, who died four years ago. Jonathan did the 88 miles in 6 hours with our nephew, Jeff. They stopped three times along the way for water, bananas with peanut butter, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.I’m super impressed with my husband’s consistent training, hard work, endurance, and okay, great abs. I’m a huge fan of all four.  And of him. Thank you Jonathan and Jeff for biking. Thank you everyone for your donations to the Dana Farber Jill Effect Fund. Jill’s spirit lives on. 

The Strand

The people who work at the Strand Bookstore, among my favorite places and my regular haunt since I moved to New York in 1967, do not call my husband, Jonathan, “Mr. Nancy,” like the people at Japonica, my neighborhood restaurant, do. We go to the Strand more than we do Japonica and I go there alone several times a week and at all hours. I buy books. I browse.  I buy more books. I go there before and after I go for a Mr. Softie, a gelato, to Duane Reade, or to the gym.  I go to the Strand instead of the gym.The staff began learning my name last year when they ordered my books.  They sold out. And reordered.  Kaylen, the event manager, invited me to offer a writing workshop on August 23 from 6:30-8:30. She emailed me photos of the tote bags they will put my memoir, Finding Mr. Rightstein, in, and the other goodies she’ll include. Nick, her colleague, followed up with the website wording, asking for my suggestions. We emailed back and forth a few times that day.   A week later, Lila, a book buyer, asked for my publisher’s contact information to order books. Quinn, a bookseller, put flyers out at the 5th Avenue/20th Street location. Eloise says, "ooooo I absolutely love The Plaza."  Ooooo I absolutely love the Strand. I've absolutely loved it even before working with the kind, warm, professional staff. And ooooo, I absolutely love teaching.  The only song I will sing is the one-stanza Davidoff Sister Song, which I wrote at age 6.  My students know it.  It gets people writing.  In their own voices. Fast. Space is limited. Advanced registration is highly recommended.  Julie Gaines, host of my first book event at her store Fishs Eddy/my onetime student, and author of the upcoming Memoir of a Small Business Woman (Very Small) which she wrote in my class, has registered.  Other students and friends have, too.  Here is how to register: 1. go to;     2. Press 'Event Admission'; and 3. on the Event Page press 'Add to Bag'I promise you a fun, inspiring evening.   Mr. Nancy will be there. 

Dear Angry Evan Hansen Fans Including a Tweeter

On July 4, I read in The New York Post that Ben Platt fans waiting at The Music Box stage door after the show were angry he did not come out.   One Tweeted, “You’re an a--hole!” adding something about the waiting children.   Seriously, angry audience members!  What do you think you’re owed?I was 9 when I saw my first Broadway show, The Diary of Anne Frank, with my family. We drove from Buffalo and sat in the second row.  The play and the actors mesmerized me.  Afterwards, I did not want to reenter the real world which had become less real and engaging.  I could not get out of my seat.  Then, I wanted to meet Susan Strasberg, who played Anne.  I wanted to take her home.  My parents suggested we wait a few minutes at the stage door, but there was a good chance she wouldn’t come out. She didn’t. “The actors are probably exhausted,” my father said.  “They have to rest for tomorrow night’s show.” We saw The Most Happy Fella and No Time for Sergeants on that same trip.  Both delighted me, but didn’t move me in the way Anne Frank had.  Since then, I’ve been lucky enough to see good to amazing shows on future family trips and since I moved to New York at age 20.  Only twice did I speak to actors: in 2014 after Fun Home. Sydney Lucas, ‘small Allison,’ was hanging out, happily talking to audience members.  I told her she was terrific and thanked her. A few months ago, John Leguizamo came out to the Public Theater lobby after Latin History for Morons to sign his book, Pimps, Hos, Playa Hatas, and All the Rest of My Hollywood Friends for audience members who bought it, which I did.Dear Evan Hansen and Ben Platt wowed me.  I have not stopped thinking about Platt’s talent and his effect on me. When I watch a Dear Evan Hansen video, I think, “I want to take Ben Platt home.”If we’re lucky, we take home meaningful experiences from the theater, from all art forms and treasure them.  If we are grabbed, connect, stay with it, see something about ourselves, and it sticks afterwards, isn’t that the deal?   In an interview with Walter Cronkite, Sinatra was asked what he owed his audience. He answered something to the effect of 'My best performance and that's about it.'Decades ago one evening on the phone, I asked a friend’s husband, a dermatologist, a question about a cyst on my arm.  He said, “Do you think I want to discuss cysts and moles and warts after 9:00 pm?”No one in any field is obliged to meet and greet a soul after the house lights go on.  Ben Platt has to protect himself, save himself, nurture himself and does NOT owe audiences anything other than the best performance he can give.  He gives that from the second he appears on the stage.  Night after night after night.   Who could--should--ask for anything more?