Thank you for your many years of service, hard work and dedication, in the face of relentless accusations, slander and misunderstanding.
Thank you for fighting always for women and children, for minorities, for the handicapped, the GLBTQ community and for the vulnerable who require affordable health care.
Thank you for enduring disrespect, insult and threats the like of which no candidate before you has withstood. Thank you for standing your ground with dignity, for holding women to a higher aspiration, a higher purpose.
And now America has spoken. So we must move forward.
Will we forget that glass ceiling? Will we return to complacency, accepting life in second-class land?
Or will we carry that torch forward?
I hope, I pray that this is just one more beginning. One more step along the way.
We woke up on the wrong side of history this morning, in more than one way.
Only time will tell HOW wrongly this history will spin out.
The world has survived worse.
We will rise, dust off our pantsuits, and try again.
Me, I refuse to entertain hatred, fear and bigotry. These are not my touchstones.
My love to all, and best wishes for the coming years.
If you’re a fan of Twitter, you probably noticed the post-Debate trend that began Wednesday evening and remained a top trend throughout Thursday, Oct. 20. Although it’s no longer at the top of the trend-list, it’s still going strong today, and in my humble opinion, it’s one of the funniest things to come out of Twitter ever.
If you haven’t checked it out yet, here are a few of my favourite Tweets (and a couple of my own thrown in for good measure.)
Here at last, folks, is proof positive that the cool kids still love books! And are funny…very funny…
Most of us are driven to chase that elusive intangible.
Some measure of conformity is a necessary cornerstone of our daily lives. After all, we don’t keep our jobs by dancing naked on the desk, or by slipping whoopee cushions onto the boss’s chair, as much as we might like to.
But in our creative minds, we are truly free.
Whether we write, paint, dance, sing or knit — our creations belong to us, the creators, and we can shape them to fit our vision.
Of course, freedom is something we must never take for granted. In the face of uncertain times, it becomes even more important to flex our creative muscles.
Freedom is like your carried-forward vacation days: you gotta use it or lose it, baby!
Here’s to fresh ideas and the courage to bring them to life!
After all, it’s just one of those strange cosmic coincidences, the kind we all experience at one time or another.
Memories of a wild child, defined by a heartbeat in time.
I had planned to slot it into the mental file marked “Well, all-rightie then” and leave it at that.
But the cosmos wouldn’t allow me to ignore it. The morning after I’d made my decision to let it slide, that song, the one I’m talking about, by Wild Cherry, came on the radio. Yup. Just like that, coincidence was compounded by coincidence, forcing me to pay attention.
So here’s my story, for what it’s worth…
As many of my readers know, I was emancipated (left home) at the age of fifteen.
In those days, the local pubs were not overly cautious about serving liquor to minors. Most didn’t ask for ID, and didn’t look too closely if it was flashed in front of them.
(At least I believe it was my 16th birthday. I’ve tried to support my memory by fact-checking, but have had no luck. So let’s go with my memory for now, until it’s proven wrong…)
In the El Mo of my memory, that Spring night, a band I cannot recall was playing hits by Wild Cherry. I remember being thrilled when they launched into “Play That Funky Music (White Boy)”, which was an epic smash at the time.
And there was dancing, and singing…
So there was yours truly, drinking underage with my soon-to-be first husband and grooving to that funky music with a packed house.
(As you read on, you’ll see what a tribute it is to the genius and staying power of Rob Parissi and Wild Cherry, the fact they’ve been able to touch our lives for so very long…)
Fast forward 40 years.
Last weekend, on Feb. 6, my husband Alex and I got all poshed up for a gala dinner/dance event at the Liberty Grand, hosted by Ellis Don and the TCA.
The food and company were stellar, as was the wine.
Then came the after-dinner dancing. Alex and I made our way to the floor.
When what to my wondering ears should appear, but that same old song?
Yup, that’s right. Hubby and I found ourselves “grooving to the music”, as the event’s band revved up with “Play That Funky Music” by Wild Cherry.
And I couldn’t help but think: All right, now I know I’ve come full circle. If I die tonight, I’ll know I’ve lived, and on my own terms, always feeling the beat of life.
I don’t know why it struck me this way. Maybe it’s because that night 40 years ago was a defining one for me, and the memory of it stands in sharp contrast to my older, more mellow self.
Maybe it’s because, under the mellow, and under the wisdom, there still resides, deep in my soul, the rebel, the individualist, the renegade who will not say uncle to life.
Somewhere in my soul that wild child rocks on…
FOOTNOTE: When I was researching for this story, I had originally mistakenly thought the El Mo had actually featured the band Wild Cherry that night.
Thanks to the kind help of Rob Parissi, band leader and songwriter, I was able to establish they never did play in Toronto.
Believe me, I wish they had!
Also, I credit the crazy energy of bands like this for the wonderful musical talent and love our two sons have been able to nurture in their lives.
Yes, I may be shouting, but it’s not directed at you, dear reader.
It’s true, I’m angry, but I’m angry at myself. I seem to have come down with the Paperwork Blues. For some time now I’ve been aware of a devolution of my professional life.
To the point where the harder I work, the more is piled onto my desk… and the farther I fall behind!
Sound familiar?
I think this may be the case with many of us. It becomes a question of working SO hard and for SO long that you can no longer remember what YOUR OWN goals are.
So I find myself asking myself this question: What do you want to accomplish, Donna?
And guess what? The answer is NOT “More paperwork, please.”
And it’s also not “Oh, let me, I’d love to stare obsessively at this monitor for another 9 hours, hoping to catch up with all this minutiae.”
Nope.
Not at all.
So allow me to press the question further. What is it you hope to accomplish today? This week? This year?
Is that pile of paperwork on your desk going to help you accomplish it?
Or, as in my case, is it actually going to hold you back from your professional and personal goals?
I’ve come to the conclusion that the harder I work, the happier others are to allow me to keep on doing exactly that.
(Really, guys, I love you all madly, but this can’t go on! **smooches**)
The people who seem to get ahead in this life are the ones who know how to delegate, to push back, to walk away from that steaming mound of, er, paper.
After the year I’ve just survived, you can bet I’ll be trying to learn a lesson from those fortunate souls!
For me, writing is a solitary art. I’m sure that’s true for many of my colleagues.
On the other hand, networking requires an author to be present, to be a voice among many within the literary community.
But the act of writing is not usually a collaborative effort.
We each come to this private place, this lookout, on our own feet — and for our reasons.
Some of us need to share our truths, those rare nuggets of beauty and pain that we have experienced.
Others want only to entertain.
Of course, the best among us strive to do both: to thrill readers, make them laugh, cry and feel something as we hold them to our truths. To “bump souls” with them for want of a better phrase.
We cannot always predict where the winding road of our words will lead. Of course, that’s why we love the creative journey. Its beauty lies in the surprises we encounter.
Whatever path you follow, may you always reach “The End” of your story.
Thank you, Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.
Freedom’s just another word…
