A surreal and moving moment right out of the pages of IN SIGHT OF STARS

Try The Pull of Gravity for a contemporary spin

Of Mice and Men on your kids’ summer reading list? Try “warming them up” or following up with THE PULL OF GRAVITY for a “choice” read. And maybe this little essay below written with the help of my friend, and extraordinary teacher Paul W. Hankins, might help.

BRIDGING THE GAP BETWEEN THE PULL OF GRAVITY AND OF MICE AND MEN:

People often ask why I incorporated John Steinbeck’s OF MICE AND MEN into my contemporary young adult novel, THE PULL OF GRAVITY. …

9/11, Pandemic & Shared Trauma: Coping with Our History through Story

This September 11th marks a staggering 20 years since many of us watched in horror as the iconic twin towers fell, and our nation was under attack.

Many of us still grieve the shock and trauma of that day even while students in desks become ever more removed, not yet born in 2001, and, thus, without any first-hand understanding.

Now those students are experiencing shared trauma of their own: constant gun drills and mass shootings, political unrest, and, yes, even quarantine and a pandemic.

How do we cope with…

That time you came to visit and

we walked the streets of Boston

holding hands,

me in my new

drop-waist denim blue dress

(one of the few

pieces of clothing I pine for

still).

At Newbury Street,

we meandered in and out of all my

favorite shops

me, so happy to share my

stomping grounds,

you, with more money because you’d

gotten a

Broadway show.

I have a love/hate relationship with social media, especially twitter, and the hate side keeps gaining ground. It’s not just the usual: the ugly politics, the righteous opinionated rants, the stupidity and falsehoods. The endless gifs and memes (ok, fine, I like those!)

For a writer, it’s the goddamned comparison.

And, every day, there it is, right in my face:

The Thief of Joy.

The comparison.

The comparison to other artists, other writers, that I can take. That is bearable. I’m always wishing for their success.

The comparison to — or within — the industry — from my very publishing…

My baby boy, a breath — now taken off on wing

3000 miles, a far, far way to go

I miss him so, but man, that kid can sing.

The least I can do is write you a poem

I find myself in the city,

in my building (in this particular

nightmare

I have the keys,

don’t have to ask for them, use the

a small one to collect mail that

isn’t

mine),

take the elevator up (which I rarely did)

let myself in the apartment door

but inside are all

your

furnishings.

Still, I make myself

at home.