It's Not Fair.

The house is quiet. The hubby and sons are off to spend 2 days in NYC, seeing a show, eating at famous places and doing fun things. I'm home sick, hacking and wheezing and feeling like hell. Not even a goodbye.

It's not fair.

I listen to the news and hear about more taxes that we'll have to pay. Congress doesn't have to contribute to their healthcare costs and get outrageous pensions even if they only serve 2 years, and the President spends money that isn't there, but we have to kick in more.

It's not fair.

Illegal immigrants can get in-state tuition rates while citizens like us have to pay the full ride and then some because of loan interest. My husband and I worked our ways through several college degrees with no financial help because of our race, religion, gender, or other aspect.

It's not fair.

People just coming into this country apply for Social Security and so many other benefits the minute they're eligible without having ever paid into the system, which will undoubtedly crash before I ever see a penny of it, no matter what the creative accountants in Washington say.

It's not fair.

When I was 21, a drunk fractured my skull, leaving me with years of operations, pain, debt and anger. He walked away, no jail time, and his insurance policy dribbled out a pittance for all my suffering and hardship.

It's not fair.

My neighbors and friends and family have suffered job losses, uncertain how they will pay their mortgages or send their kids to college, while government and other union workers protest having to make minor contributions to their health insurance costs, enjoying a job security unknown to most American workers.

It's not fair.

Then...

An earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster hit Japan. Instead of homes, they have rubble. Instead of family, they have dead.

In the Middle East, women plead for education and basic human rights and are stoned or murdered.

A family down the block spends their days in the hospital by their son's bedside, praying for a cure for his cancer.

Across the sea, believers of minority faiths are murdered and their churches burned because they do not fit a terrorist group's ideal.

So I will stop whining about missing a fun weekend because of a nasty cold. I am recovering, some will not. I am warm and fed, some are not. I have family and friends, some do not.

It's not fair.

Something New This Way Comes

Okay, something different this time. Once a month, I'm choosing one debut author's book to read and review. I'm serious about it, so don't expect to see celeb trash like Snooki's book. Sorry, dedicated authors only will be considered.

The Trouble With Half a Moon by Danette Vigilante (Putnam) debuted in January. Although listed as a YA (young adult for those unfamiliar with the biz of writing), this gently told story feels suitable for a younger set, 10-14. Told from the point of view of almost thirteen-year-old Dellie, it takes the reader through several months of her life. Dellie lives in a housing project surrounded by people who face issues of poverty, violence and despair. Dellie has her own troubles; she blames herself for her little brother's death. While she and her family grieve, new tenants move in; an abusive mother and her young son Corey, and a spirited older woman called Miss Shirley. Dellie tries to protect Corey, avoid Miss Shirley's questions about her brother's death, repair the betrayal by her best friend Kayla, and foster the blooming romantic interest of Michael. The obstacle in her path is her mother's adamant insistence she remain 'safe' by only leaving the apartment for school, even though Dellie's life is outside her home; friends, school, Michael, and freedom.

Simply written by Vigilante who grew up in projects just like Dellie's, this novel is a safe avenue to explore the dark shadows in life; death, betrayal, despair, violence and injustice-and the enduring human spirit that fights to be happy. And though the main character is a young girl, and a small romantic interest is present, this novel is well suited for both genders because of the many issues that can be opened for discussion. I would highly recommend it for the classroom.

Next review:  Exposed  by Kimberly Marcus

So Little Time...

I'm tired. Between routine duties, I sorted through almost 2,000 juice pouches. ???  I mentor the Bridgewater-Raritan FIRST Team 303 Panther Robotics. No, I don't help with the build, even if it looks like fun. I am the Public Relations, Chairman's Award and Green Initiatives mentor. Yep, three different sub-teams. The juice pouches are collected under our Green Initiatives from district schools and shipped to Terracycle, Inc., in Princeton, which recycles them into many different things. It's part of the team philosophy- think green, do green. In return, the team gets a donation. So why am I tired? Well, the juice pouches have to be picked up from the schools, emptied of straws and excess juice (not everyone finishes their juice! I'm gonna tell their moms.), counted, bagged and shipped. Since team members are in school, working on the robot for the next championship, or working on other projects, I do the pouches.

I don't mind, it's just that there are so many other things to do. The public relations and presentation for the  Chairman's Award, the highest honor that FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition in Science and Technology) gives out takes a lot of time, guiding the students, checking on projects that need to be okayed, finished, started, etc. Plus, I play in the bell choir at my church- or, sometimes all three bell choirs, if the younger kids need some backup. Then, there's the making meals and helping out sick friends, Career Day at the high school, judging stories for a contest, and other activities I don't want to bore you with, or make it seem like I'm bucking for sainthood; I have too much devil in me to qualify. Plus, there are plenty of people who do waaaaaay more than me.

My philosophy is everyone should do something that makes a difference, even if it's simply collecting old towels and blankets for the animal shelter, or a $10 check to relief agencies to help out victim's of Japan's triple earthquake/tsunami/nuclear meltdown tragedy. Sure, it's nice for Bill and Melinda Gates to give away all their money (after the kids' trust funds) but how hard is to write a check for something you won't miss? How disconnected is that?

Before I start to sound all preachy, let me say that I do this out of obligation. No, Mom doesn't make me do good deeds, nor do I have anything to feel guilty about because I don't cause disasters or want political favor or whatever. I volunteer for organizations and causes because I like the way I feel when I do. Kind of like Bill Murray in Scrooged. Roughly paraphrased he said that once you reach out to people, you feel good and you're gonna want that feeling over and over. I'm obligated to continue to volunteer for my own selfish want of having that good feeling. And it's part of being human- recognizing that we're all interconnected and dependent. If you're hiking and someone needs a hand up over a large boulder, you're going reach down, right? I feel obligated to be a better person, reach out to others and DO.

You can be sure I'm not under the delusion that all my little acts of kindness, in the scheme of the universe, the world, the nation, the town, or even in a person's life, will amount to much. But it means something to me, that on the craggy trail of life, I can ease the way for someone, who in turn, may help the next person. Reminds me of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, where Gandalf talks about help unlooked for. Ya just never know.

So get off your duff, commit to doing; where ever your passion, your interest, your inclination or your conscience lead. Gotta go; I volunteered to give a presentation at a writer's conference and it won't write itself.

There's A Hole In My Bucket...

So much to do, so little time... I don't like calling it my 'Bucket List,' because that just sounds crude and unromantic. Either way, it's different from my Dreams List because dreams are more fluid and are something to aspire to achieve, whereas the To Do List are things to do simply because. Anyone can write a book, so that's a To Do, but only one in a million get published, so that's a Dream. See where I'm going?

On my To Do are: Stand on the rim of the Grand Canyon, then hike down to the bottom (as long as I'm there, I might as well). See Stonehenge (if I could get away with touching it, that's make it a dream). Walk through ancient Greek ruins (if the fighting ever stops). Wear a ballgown (wedding gowns and Halloween don't count.) Go to Mardi Gras in New Orleans (and be sober enough to remember it). Be in Times Square for New Year's (I live in New Jersey, and don't understand why this is proving so difficult. I'll blame it on the family.) Lose five pounds (book tours are coming up, along with summer.) Survive getting my three sons through school, college, and into their first apartment (this one is iffy).Learn to use all the buttons on my phone, camera, computer, DVR, GPS, TV, blog, website, Twitter, FB (seriously, why is everything so complicated?) Get my other books revised enough to please my agent (that's a biggie; may have to transfer it to the Dream List). Balance the checkbook (and prevent husband from screwing it up again). Transform my backyard and pool into an oasis, because with all the things To Do (and this is only part of my list), I'm going to need a place to rest.

Imagine...

John Lennon's inspirational song makes me fearful for humanity. Really. Going anywhere, I encounter so many people who are enraged, discourteous, selfish and seriously MEAN. It's impossible to imagine people giving up possessions and materialism when they practically shoot each other for a parking spot, or go into serious debt for overpriced goods. And religion, while the saving grace for many a sinner, is used to justify killing and maiming. Lennon's song envisions a utopia that anyone with five functioning brain cells realizes is impossible. So why do we keep imagining it? Why yearn for something that can never be (like me perpetually being a size six with no gray)? No war, no injustice, no harm, no calories in my latte. Not happening, people! Sad, isn't it? Yet, as I explain to my son for the umpteenth time that people are free to make bad choices even if the rest of us have to suffer for them, there is so much that is uplifting about humanity too. When I had jaw surgery, my family, neighbors and friends rallied round. Even people from my church whom I barely knew, sent me texts, FB messages, prayer shawls, meals, and then visited. The human condition is a conundrum; we are our own and at times our neighbor's worst enemy, and then we are shining examples of the superior beings we aspire to be. Confused? Yeah, me too. It's like we're all dual personality people, like Batman's nemesis Two Face. Sometimes we wear the evil face, sometimes the good. Driving in rush hour brings out everyone's evil face and the cute lol cats brings out anyone's good side. (Even dog lovers.) In the end, we all come back to 'The Choice.' Which path will you take during the many opportunities in the day; the highway to hell or the road to higher ground? I'll try to remember I have the option of being a better person, although it's going to be hard if just one more person cuts me off.

That's Soooo Not Funny!

Watching the Academy Awards, did you notice that most of the top awards go to serious, angsty, tragic, wrenching, despairing (get the pic?) movies? Don’t we have enough of that in our lives already? What’s wrong with letting a funny movie win Best Picture? Sure, it happens once in a while, although I can’t think that far back (I don’t even remember which film won Best Pic last year), but not often enough. If anything, we should celebrate humor more often. It loosens tensions, allows us to poke fun at ourselves and others, and lightens the heavy load of life we all carry.
That’s probably why I write humorous scenes into almost all my books. Guess I’m funny that way; I love humor when it’s really bad. Puns I adore you! I don’t think David Letterman is funny, but I crack up with Jeff Dunham and his Achmed puppet. The Home Alone Movies (except #4, that was dumb), still make me hysterical every Christmas. Laughter, touted as the best medicine, isn’t employed enough if you ask me.
Take books. How many classics are funny? Only person I can think of that had any sense of humor is Shakespeare. Witty fellow that guy. I’m sure there are more, but no one goes gaga over them the way they do the sad/serious/morbid/moody works. What situation cannot be made fun of? I can’t name any; our human condition allows our creative funny bone to see the lighter side, even if it takes time and perspective to do it.
So, when you read my books, don’t expect to cry, be depressed, ponder our pitiful existence or contemplate suicide. Just laugh it off.

What Dreams May Come...

Dreams are an important aspect of my life; I’m not talking about going to sleep and finding myself romanced by a certain bad boy vampire on TV, but about what I desire most to be happy. At 9, I dreamed about having a cat. That worked out well. At 16, I dreamed of having a fast sports car. Still waiting on that one. Through the years, dreams or actually desires, came and went, either being realized, like love, marriage, kids and my feet to stop growing. Others I’ve discarded; a legal career, a four carat diamond, and staying wrinkle free. (I’d really still like the last two, but reality is so cruel.) There are a few that I hold onto not because they’re the ultimate, like climbing Mt. Everest (I mean really, struggling to the biggest dirt pile on the earth at risk of limb and life? Uh, no.) But, some I hold onto because they define me. My top most dream is to be a successful author. Writing has always been a part of me. It’s in my DNA, although God alone knows where that came from because the only thing anyone in my family ever wrote was a Christmas list or a required English paper (and not too well at that). So now, here I am, my book Sirenz, co-written with my best gal pal (or boy pal or even pet pal, she’s the tops) and published by Flux in June. There are book signings, a sequel, an agent and solely written books being reviewed. My number one dream- just about realized. Almost achieved. Ready to be checked off the list (pending final sales figures; it doesn’t count as a success if only your family and the dollar store buy them). Is that it?
No. As I’ve modified my list (did you think I only had one thing on it??), subtracting, adding, it has become almost a living thing, changing with age (like me). What else is on my list? First, I want my 15 mins. Of fame that cultural icon/artist Andy Warhol says everyone gets. I only hope that I’m dressed, have makeup on, and am not doing something stupid, like choking on a chicken bone. Next, I want some fans, people without a vested interest, to go gaga over my books. I’ve seen bad writers get fans, so there should be some out there who’ll adore me too. (But no hanging out under my window in the bushes; totally not allowed.) Number three is I want to live a long, healthy life. This shouldn’t be too difficult as great grandpa lived to be 97, great grandma 103, and grandmother is still spicy at 104. Go grandma! I don’t do unhealthy things (often), so if NJ drivers don’t kill me, it looks pretty good. After that comes the dream for my sons to live long, healthy, happy, successful lives. Even if it kills them. It’s giving me agita and grey hair. Fifth is world peace. Never happening, scratch that off the list. Another dream is for my husband to stop snoring. Ditto above re: not happening in my lifetime. Finally, (I’m taking the high road here and not being piggish with the wishes), “I’d like to thank the Academy….” Hey, you never know what dreams may come….