Going White

Bunnies to the Left, Bunnies to the Right

Is it my imagination or are there bunnies everywhere this Easter? Dust bunnies, that is. Floating past me in the kitchen. Dancing along the hallway. Waving from the corner of the dining room. How can this be? And more importantly, why haven’t I noticed these animated tumbleweeds before?

Quarantine

As a writer, I’ve worked from home for years. But with COVID-19, we’re no longer using a cleaning service. In fact, we haven’t welcomed anyone into our disease-free fortress for at least six weeks. But if I ever wondered why we had a cleaning service, I know now. Gosh, two people can create quite a mess.

Bunny?

Which makes me wonder. Why is that tumbleweed called a dust bunny? Is it because the word bunny is cute?  Not exactly. I’ve recently learned it’s because of the fluffiness of the dust, which by the way, according to a 2009 University of Arizona study, dust is comprised of “a mixture of organic matter such as dead skin cells and organic fibers, soil tracked-in on footwear, and particulate matter derived from the infiltration of outdoor air.” Egad. There’s nothing cute about that!

Where’s the Vacuum?

In our house, we have two vacuum cleaners. The upright and the canister. Why do we have two? I’m not sure. I can only assume we each once had a preferred model? But to be honest, neither of us has used a vacuum in years. The dustbuster, sure. But a vacuum? Nope. So both vacuums have been sitting in our garage collecting dust. Until now. And with a flip of a switch, a pull on a cord, we’ve begun the arduous process of vacuuming. Discovery #2. You have to have a very young back to excel at vacuuming.

And the Rest of the House?

It’s obvious we need to do more than just vacuum. Oh well. These are the times that make men hardy. Or something like that. And so we’ll schedule a cleaning ritual. Vacuum, dust, clean countertops, and attack the dreaded toilet. This’s all doable. After all, we are mighty men. Capable and strong. Or, maybe, we can just clean when the dust bunny problem gets out of hand. I like that idea. After all, how much dirt can we really create? Hmm. Based on what I’m seeing around right now—quite a lot!

One Last Thought

Don’t forget to grab a copy of my latest book: What’s That Growing in My Sour Cream? It’s a touch of Erma Bombeck with a sprinkle of David Sedaris and just a hint of Andy Rooney.

Rings Reveal the Truth of Our Relationship

Recently, a stranger in a crowded airport elevator turned to Jeff and me and asked whether we were brothers. Really? We look nothing alike. Instead of answering, we both held up our ring fingers. The gentleman seemed surprised. He uttered something or other, and though he didn’t say much, I could sense the judgment. Not that we were a same-sex couple, but that he really thought we looked alike. Huh?

Smothers Brothers

Of course, this made me think of all the wonderful brother teams out there. The Jonas Brothers. The Hemsworths. The Three Stooges. Wait! They weren’t all brothers. Curly, Moe, and Shemp were. Larry wasn’t. The fabulous Marx brothers. Groucho, Zeppo, Chico, and Harpo. Karl, despite rumors to the contrary, was not part of their act.

To Be Fair, We Share Certain Traits

Jeff and I are fairly close in age and height. Though he’s a year younger. He’d want me to point that out. We’re both Jewish, though neither of us ever seems to remember when it’s Passover. We’re both white men. Yet in the summer, Jeff tans easily, so I’m a lot whiter. But let’s face it. Brothers don’t always look alike. Neither of us particularly looks like our brother. So maybe that wasn’t what the stranger was picking up on.

Standing in Each Other’s Shadow

Years ago, an older man pulled me aside at a GLBTQ fundraiser. He’d seen us from a distance, earlier in the week. “You two young men are standing way too close,” he counseled. “Walking in each other’s space.” He was warning us to be careful. More circumspect. That it’s dangerous to be so out in the world. A light bulb went off.

That’s It!

I finally understood why Jeff and I were constantly tripping over each other. Stepping on the other’s toes. Cutting each other off in mid-path. Since then, we’ve tried to be more mindful of our personal space. Not to stand so darn close. Not to lean into each other. And yet, we continue to bump shoulders and trip. I guess some habits are hard to break. And though we’re not keen on public displays of affection, it’s nice to know that we remain physically connected. After all, proximity to the one you love is a wonderful thing. Even if you have to elbow them, now and then,  to move over.

Now for the Good News

After the Fall has been named a Finalist in the Indie Forewords Book of the Year Award. And just the other day we heard that After the Fall will be awarded a 2019 Indie Discovery Book Award. The formal announcement will come in June. So if you haven’t yet grabbed a copy, now’s the time to reach for that next summer read. https://amzn.to/2vQqDOT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trauma And Humor: A Bad Combination

Trauma and Humor: A Bad Combination

If you follow me on Facebook, then you might have guessed there would be an upcoming blog about the passing of our sweet poodle, Charlie. He would have been 15 years old in December, which is a good run for any dog. He’d been sick the last 2 1/2 years with congestive heart disease, and though Jeff and I were aware that time was running out, the shock of his passing was still overwhelming.

Oh, No. Your Not Going to Talk About It?

Yes. Just a bit. Bear with me.

Our First Dog

In 2002, I was out of town on business when Jeff put Woody, our wire-hair fox terrier, to sleep. And even though it was many years ago, I remember being relieved that I didn’t have to make the decision. Poor Jeff had to do it alone. And to be honest, I didn’t understand the pain of the experience. I wasn’t in the room that day. I didn’t hold Woody as he took his last breath. It was easy to separate from the experience. Easy for me to make ridiculous jokes in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. After all, that’s what I do. When things get uncomfortable, I joke. It’s my coping strategy.

And Now This Week

We opted for in-home euthanasia after the vet told us that Charlie needed daily doses of fluids under the skin. We were familiar with the procedure. We’d given fluids to our first dog for over six months. Woody never seemed to mind. He always sat calmly through it and then immediately perked up. But Charlie was not about to do the same. He’d had enough. I could see it in his eyes. We were scaring him and he was tired. Too many pills and too much poking.

It Was Time

And so Jeff and I decided together and our vet agreed. We opted for an in-home visit, thinking it would be easier for Charlie. But there is no such thing as easier. I’m still haunted by the surprised look in Charlie’s eyes when he was poked in the rear by the first needle. The drug that provided the calming euphoria. And then the look when he received the last shot. And those final breaths.

Apologies Are Due

There are times in life when we create discord in our relationships without really understanding how. I did that by not appreciating the extent of the trauma Jeff suffered when he put Woody to sleep. I understand that pain now. Sometimes, we need to go through an experience to grasp the enormity of its impact. I wish that wasn’t true. And for that, I am sorry. Jeff deserved better.

Book

If You’re A Baby Boomer, Does Anyone Still Want to Hear Your Opinion?

Back in the 1980s, I attended a seminar at the University of Michigan. It was an insightful week. We learned about market research, market analysis, and how to create a marketing plan. But the most powerful message wasn’t about the tools. It was about the Baby Boomers. The people who had the purchasing power. And the message was clear. Young people spend money. Lots of money. Which is why advertisers create messages skewered to a younger audience.

Baby Boomers

That once youthful market of Baby Boomers (26% of the United States population), is now well beyond middle-age. Each day, 10,000 Boomers turn 65. 65!  Now, it’s true that you can still be a youthful 60-something. You can exercise regularly, be sharp-witted, and read voraciously. And you can look fabulous. But there is no way you can really consider yourself young. Well, you can, but you might be the only one.

Silence is Golden

Now, I like being older. Maybe because when I was younger, things didn’t always go so well. There were lots of personal challenges to work through. Troubling times that inspired insecurity and doubt. Oh, I still have those moments. I’m sure we all do. But at least now, I understand such feelings are momentary. If age offers wisdom—we learn that not every misstep in life is a calamity. Age helps put that lesson into perspective.

Read More

Fast Food for a Slow Eater?

It’s true. I eat fast food every now and then. You know the places. Sticky tables, dirty bathrooms, and lots of screaming kids. It happens mostly on road trips. And though I’m a picky eater, I have to admit the food is pretty good. I guess there’s no accounting for taste (I couldn’t resist that little play on words. Forgive me).

What’s the deal with the soda?

Most fast-food joints offer patrons free refills even when sodas are sold in a small, medium or large size. So why would anyone buy a large drink when they can refill the cheaper size? Perhaps it has something to do with walking back to the fountain for a refill. Or maybe folks just prefer the large cup. I’m sure they’ve done lots of market research on this, but frankly, it has me stumped.

Say it’s not true

Now, I don’t particularly like soda. A small cola is more than enough. To be honest, the carbonation gives me heartburn. Or maybe it’s the burger and fries. Thank goodness they don’t offer free refills on the fries. Especially at McDonald’s. Those fries are damn good. But you have to eat them quickly. If you allow them to cool, they take on a rubbery consistency. But piping hot, stand back. It’s french fry time!

Fried chicken … the guilty pleasure

And talking about good, who could resist a bucket of southern fried chicken? Friends rave about Church’s. When I was a kid, fried chicken was the only thing I’d eat at a restaurant. Back then, it was a staple. But in today’s health-conscious world, it’s impossible to find fried chicken on a menu. When we lived in California, there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken in downtown Mill Valley. That particular one, as I recall, was busted twice for drugs. I’m certain that wasn’t part of Colonel Sander’s plan, but with recreational marijuana now approved in California, I can’t imagine a better point of distribution.

Read More

Smile … It’s 2018!

It’s the start of another year and I am feeling tremendously energized. For those who know me well, this is an odd turn of events. Typically, I’m miserable this time of year. Not only because there is another Brad birthday looming, and really, who wants to be another year older, but because the notion of the New Year requires us to focus on making some monumental improvement in our lives. That just puts too much pressure on the month of January. Especially when you can choose any time of the year to make improvements. Perhaps, every day. Okay—that’s too much for anyone. But you get my drift.

So why would I be happy?

I’ve never been one to have New Year’s Resolutions. I don’t operate that way. Instead, as issues arise, I like to make changes. It may take me a while to get there, but eventually, I figure out what to do. If you don’t believe me, you can just check with any of my former therapists. Yes, there have been more than one. I’m certain they’d all give me an A-plus rating. I was especially good at timely payment. Which proves that anything can be solved if you throw enough money at it. Mostly, your resolve to make a change.

The author’s journey

But I think the real motivator has been the insurmountable odds of ever being a successful author—and in an odd way—it’s freeing. If it happens, it happens, but it’s so darn unlikely, everyone kind of feels sorry for you. I like that. I like that a lot. Sympathy can be immensely gratifying. And I also love a good challenge. Because when you’re at the bottom—the only way ahead is up—and since everything is still new—it’s very exciting.

Read More

The Holiday Season is Here – Yeah!!!!

The Holiday Season is here again and there is excitement in the air. Lots of parties, Burl Ives singing “Frosty the Snowman,” and the morning temperatures in Phoenix hovering in the fifties. For those experiencing snow and ice, that doesn’t sound too bad. But for those of us who have managed through months of triple digits, fifty degrees is awfully cold. We’ve pulled out our sweaters with the full knowledge that it’s now or never.

Hanukah Anyone?

Growing up in New York City, I really don’t recall a big buzz about Hanukah. It always seemed to be the poor step-sister to Christmas. The gorgeous tree in Rockefeller Center. The Radio City Music Hall Rockettes high-kicking in their Santa suits—but of course Santa wears pants, not tights. There was no big hoop-de-doo around spinning the dreidel—though everyone loved potato pancakes and the Hanukah gelt—those chocolate shaped coins covered in gold foil.

Yes, Christmas is for Everyone

No matter your religion, cultural affiliation, or whether you even believe in God, Christmas is just a magical time. Heck, if Ebeneezer Scrooge can find the true meaning of Christmas, there’s hope for us all. So to everyone reading this today, I wish you the best of the Holiday Season. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Sleigh bells ringing. The Hallejuah Chorus. And to my Jewish friends and family, remember that Irving Berlin wrote “White Christmas.” Hey, that holiday spirit is just contagious.

If You Enjoy Crossword Puzzles . . . You Should Write a Novel

I’ve been working diligently on a second novel with the goal of publication in 2018. That would be a year and a half to generate a second book. Or, half the time it took to finish my debut novel, The Intersect. It’s a relief to think I might have learned a few things along the way. So, in the spirit of being open, let me share a few insights.

The Learn

  1. In the words of Dorothy Parker, “Writing is the art of applying the ass to the seat.” In following her advice, I’ve discovered my hip flexors, sacroiliac, and glute muscles. Yow!
  2. Writing and speaking can be done in the same voice but not at the same time. Too much talking, and I can’t write. And after hours of writing, I’m unable to utter an intelligent sentence.
  3. If I don’t shed a tear when I’m working on an emotional scene, there’s something wrong. This should not be confused with the tears that I shed when I can’t get a scene right.
  4. If you respect your characters, they speak on their own. Dialogue is easy. If you try to control them, they rebel and make you the fool.
  5. You need to believe in yourself as a writer before anyone else will. Then, you need to hire a terrific editor to teach you all that you’re doing wrong.
  6. Eating is a major component of the creative process. Any food will do. But try to stay away from items purchased at Costco. Large quantities can be polished off in short order.
  7. If you love crossword puzzles, you’d love writing a novel. Words connect scenes. Themes carry through. And everything that you put down on paper can have an alternate meaning.
  8. It’s truly satisfying when someone enjoys your work and writes a note. It’s even better when they go to Amazon and provide a review.
  9. The arc of creation matches the bell curve. At the start, there’s excitement as the story unfolds. At its peak, you’re certain it’s all working. Upon publication, you’re sure you’ve screwed the whole thing up.
  10. There’s a seed of truth about the author’s life in every novel. Just a seed. If it were all true, it would be called a memoir.
Read More

Are You Too Old to Change? Why You Should Reconsider.

Years ago, my mother rebuffed the news of my coming out by explaining that she couldn’t deal with it. Her exact words. “I’m too old to change.”

But you’re only fifty-five?

It rarely happens in life when you have extreme clarity. But at that particular moment, it was like a lightning bolt out of the blue. I made a vow to open my mind to the possibilities of life. I’d do my best to never be, too old to change.

Change is hard

And it has been a challenge. Over the years, we’ve moved from city to city, from job to job. My career in healthcare has had its ups and downs. Mostly ups, until the last move to Phoenix. But even then, I realized early on that I’d landed in the wrong organization. The thing about change is that sometimes we need to be careful about what we wish for. And to recognize when it makes sense to say no thank you, and move on.

Career as a Writer

I’m grateful for many things in my life, but none more than that one insight from my mom. She suffered a lot of emotional pain with that too old to change. And though it’s a wonderful thing to hear affirmations from those we love, sometimes, it’s the judgments that force us to envision whom we choose to be. My mother offered that gift, and to her, I’ll be forever grateful. By learning to change, my life has turned out to be a lot better than I ever expected.

Why is the Television so Darn Loud?

There is something going on in our house. Something inexplicable. The volume on the television is too loud. Until it isn’t. And then, you struggle to understand the words being spoken by the actors.

Yes – I know

If you’ve read my blog, and by the way, thank you for doing so, you know I am deaf in my left ear. 100% deaf since I was two-years-old. A case of pneumonia killed the nerve. Nonetheless, I’m keenly aware of the volume on the television. And if in doubt, I live with someone who can hear perfectly.

Commerce in Action

I realize that when commercials are playing, the volume is always louder. That’s so you can hear the commercial whether you’re in the bathroom or standing in front of an open refrigerator (my two favorite spots during commercial interruptions). Okay, I get it. But what about when you’re streaming Amazon or Netflix? There are no commercials. And still, the music to “Mr. Selfridge” is blaring. If I lower the volume, I can barely make out what anyone is saying. Are they mumbling? Is it their British accent? Or have the actors attended the Marlon Brando School of Mumbling? 

Read More
Load More
Back To Top