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Sunday, December 11, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Writing on Thursday
THE MOTHER DAUGHTER SHOW by Natalie Wexler
STORYLINE: The daughters are teenagers in their senior year of high school, and this means it's time for the annual show. It's the mothers' job to create and execute the musical revue, one that will both honor their girls, and please the ranks of their private prep school.
But when everyone should be working together, relishing this special stage in life, the plot thickens with secrets, rebellion, and the sound of little more than dischord.
Will the show go on? And at what expense?
`
REVIEW: Two thumbs up. THE MOTHER DAUGHTER REVIEW is a well-written, clear story about the dynamics of relationship, the reality of life, and the power of forgiveness.
CREDITS: Natalie Wexler is a journalist and essayist whose work has appeared in the Washington Post Magazine, the American Scholar, the Gettysburg Review, and other publications, and she is a reviewer for the Washington Independent Review of Books. She wrote the award-winning historical novel, A MORE OBEDIENT WIFE. THE MOTHER DAUGHTER REVIEW is her second book. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband.
THE MOTHER DAUGHTER SHOW was published by Fuze Publishing LLC, and I received my review copy from Goldberg McDuffie Communications.
CAST OF CHARACTERS: Three moms, three daughters, bound by the past, friendship and DNA; struggling with change, doubt and misunderstanding.
STORYLINE: The daughters are teenagers in their senior year of high school, and this means it's time for the annual show. It's the mothers' job to create and execute the musical revue, one that will both honor their girls, and please the ranks of their private prep school.
But when everyone should be working together, relishing this special stage in life, the plot thickens with secrets, rebellion, and the sound of little more than dischord.
Will the show go on? And at what expense?
`
REVIEW: Two thumbs up. THE MOTHER DAUGHTER REVIEW is a well-written, clear story about the dynamics of relationship, the reality of life, and the power of forgiveness.
CREDITS: Natalie Wexler is a journalist and essayist whose work has appeared in the Washington Post Magazine, the American Scholar, the Gettysburg Review, and other publications, and she is a reviewer for the Washington Independent Review of Books. She wrote the award-winning historical novel, A MORE OBEDIENT WIFE. THE MOTHER DAUGHTER REVIEW is her second book. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband.
THE MOTHER DAUGHTER SHOW was published by Fuze Publishing LLC, and I received my review copy from Goldberg McDuffie Communications.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Inspire Me Sunday
After a While
by Veronica A. Shoffstall
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn.
by Veronica A. Shoffstall
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Writing on Thursday
A Poem
Over the weekend my daughters and I went into an antiques store. While they looked at dated dolls, I picked up a crusty orange-bound, red-spined book. I'm always picking up books. Something about this one, as with so many, just caught my eye.
I flipped to its center, and this was what I read. It's simply titled SEVEN, for it's the seventh entry.
We touch.
Shoulder-to-shoulder.
You can't do more when crossing streets
with mannequins in windows looking back.
I try to match your step--
that way I'm sure of staying close.
You smell like love.
That must be so
for what I smell is dear to me and new.
And so a little walk through town
becomes a journey
a love vacation from ourselves
but with ourselves.
Everything you say is funny
or beautiful.
Sometimes I forget that old material can be so current. That something written decades ago can touch me today. Until there it is in front of me.
In this poem I recognize something I've never had, but I also (hopelessly, romantically) read my future.
So I bought the book.
LISTEN TO THE WARM by Rod McKuen , copyright 1967.
Over the weekend my daughters and I went into an antiques store. While they looked at dated dolls, I picked up a crusty orange-bound, red-spined book. I'm always picking up books. Something about this one, as with so many, just caught my eye.
I flipped to its center, and this was what I read. It's simply titled SEVEN, for it's the seventh entry.
We touch.
Shoulder-to-shoulder.
You can't do more when crossing streets
with mannequins in windows looking back.
I try to match your step--
that way I'm sure of staying close.
You smell like love.
That must be so
for what I smell is dear to me and new.
And so a little walk through town
becomes a journey
a love vacation from ourselves
but with ourselves.
Everything you say is funny
or beautiful.
Sometimes I forget that old material can be so current. That something written decades ago can touch me today. Until there it is in front of me.
In this poem I recognize something I've never had, but I also (hopelessly, romantically) read my future.
So I bought the book.
LISTEN TO THE WARM by Rod McKuen , copyright 1967.
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