The West Virginia Writers' Workshop has been going on for twenty years. Since we moved here, just five years ago,I've been meaning to go. Two years ago, I signed up for one of the four days of the conference; this year I managed get them a check in time to be a full participant.
I signed up for "non-fiction." They asked me to send ten pages to go over in our workshop, where others would make notes. I had to go back into the archives to find things to send. They got ten pages, but from four different pieces.
When I stopped working full time in 2004, at my fifty-fifth birthday, I signed up for writing classes at UCLA Extension. I would get up in the morning, take a bus from Fairfax Avenue in Park LaBrea to UCLA, then have lunch at Falafel King in Westwood, before catching the bus home. Looking through the stuff I wrote then, I found a piece about my life in New Orleans, written at the time of Hurricane Katrina, and a short story I had forgotten, about a Mexican-American high school student who lived in North Hollywood with her mother, who ran a Spanish CD store, and her grandmother. I thought both of these pieces were great. I didn't use them because they were more than ten years old, and I wanted to submit something newer.
The highlight of the conference was meeting people who actually write and teach writing for a living. I try not to express my emotions; it's how I was raised. I saw people who could talk about their passion for language. If they weren't already attractive (most of them were) speaking with passion made them even more interesting.
I saw a few people I knew there, and made some new friends. There was a woman who lives in New Orleans at the conference. She is a nurse with more advanced degrees and has written award-winning articles for medical journals. I was pleased that she agreed to read my piece about the city, and she thought I captured it with my feelings about my life then, and my grief about Katrina.
One of the instructors was David Haslick, who talked about opening your heart instead of letting it break. He couldn't write well until, at age forty, he faced a trauma from his early life.
The people in our non-fiction group had fascinating stories. One woman shared her history of abusive parents and an abusive spouse, another woman visited Southeast Asia for the first time to meet her mother's family, and a young man from Africa, who learned English as a second language, wrote beautifully about life in a West African village..
I tried to figure why my writing is not as good as it was ten years ago, and why it seems flat to me now. I think part of it was the trauma of my heart attack and mother's death in 2003, which inflamed all of my emotions. I'm older now, and married. Things are calmer than they were (but stay tuned for fireworks from City Council). Writing mostly on this blog, I write something, check it for errors and post it without a lot of revising, or even thinking too much.
It occurs to me that maybe I don't think hard enough. I asked myself during the workshop what I'm hiding. Mark Brazaitis, a fellow Morgantown city councilor and writing professor, wrote a book of stories about depression, which I bought two years ago at the conference. I put it down after the first story, frightened to my core. Now I think maybe I need to face my own issues about depression. I also noted that everyone's work had interesting characters, except mine. My stuff is all about me. I know I write partly so I can have my say without being interrupted.
In 2005, I started to write stories about the unique time and place where I grew up. Some of the stories are humorous enough, but I stopped after maybe three of them, because I realized I had never mentioned my parents. That scared me.
I started a novel, several times, about my life in Miami from 1978 to 1984, a fascinating time and place, and a big part of my history. I took pieces of it to a novel class at UCLA. Only the teacher knew the story was autobiographical. A typical comment was "Your lead character is so unlikable. Does he grow over the course of the novel?" The Jewish grandmother was praised as a brilliant character study. "Pure gold," one woman said. I couldn't take it, and I was less than generous in my evaluation of the work of others.
I got some ideas from this conference about what I need to do. First, I need to spend more time sitting down and writing, even if it is just this narcissistic blog.
Then I need to really open my heart and not continue to let it break. I need to deal with depression, a family history that's only normal on the surface, and what I really think and feel, always a frightening proposition.
And craft. I could learn better ways to express myself. I need characters that have a full life apart from mine. I've said that i can't write poetry, but I have, and I could.
I got a lot from this workshop. Making friends with unexpected people, learning about poetry, about healing, about opening up and letting the words flow. I have work to do now.
Friday, July 28, 2017
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Carroll County, and Galax, Virginia
This trip, July 12 to 14, could have been very different. This is the beginning of the sixth year of these explorations. I thought maybe I would skip places that voted for our current President, but the whole point was to get to know what it is like in this part of the world. Then I thought maybe I would stay in the closest Democratic place, and visit from there, like in this case, Blacksburg, Virginia or Winston-Salem, North Carolina, each about an hour from Hillsville, the county seat of Carroll County. That seemed pointless when I thought about it.
I ended up booking one of the cheap brands of my usual motel chain at the exit on I-77 between Hillsville and the independent city of Galax, about seven miles from each of them, three counties south of Princeton, West Virginia, and on the border of North Carolina. I could have done this differently by staying in a campground or renting a cabin along Blue Ridge Parkway or in New River State Park. My custom is to stay in anonymous chain hotels. It's boring, but there it is.
I drove the 270 miles from Morgantown to Hillsville, napped, then checked out Hillsville. It's a pretty town with a historic court house, and a newer fake colonial county office complex nearby. There are two blocks of commercial buildings, also historic, and a small residential area north on Main Street. The real commercial district is at the I-77 interchange with US 58, a few miles west of Main St. I walked a bit downtown and visited the library, which has a collection of dolls, mostly International Barbies. I didn't ask why. I did ask the librarian where to visit. She suggested the old courthouse, which has a museum centered around a shooting that occurred there in 1912.
I didn't see a lot of Confederate stuff in Hillsville, although the old courthouse has a statue dedicated to Confederate soldiers. This area was out of most of the Civil War action, isolated in the Blue Ridge and west of Virginia's main cities. The railroad didn't arrive until after the Civil War. Wikipedia says that Carroll County has been Republican since the Civil War because it was a haven for deserters from the Confederate Army.
I realized there wasn't going to be much "city" in this area, so before dark Wednesday I drove a piece of Blue Ridge Parkway, which runs west to east through the southern part of Carroll County. I drove west to Galax, which straddles the line between Carroll County and Grayson County, then south to Blue Ridge Parkway. I noticed the beginning of a rail trail in Galax, a bike store that rents, and a movie theater outside of downtown Galax, showing the new Spiderman movie.
I decided to go to Galax Thursday morning, rent a bike to ride on the rail trail in New River Park, then see "Spiderman." It was supposed to be cool in the morning, then warming up with thunderstorms in the afternoon, clearing later.
I accomplished those things. It was cool, but humid in the morning, and I rode the trail from 9:30 to 11:30 along New River and some other streams, in a park, adjacent to some semi-rural residential areas. I ate lunch at a diner-type place, nicer looking than I expected and busy, in downtown Galax. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the mayo, and, uh, onion rings. I was impressed that the server knew without my asking that I would want ketchup for my onion rings.
At the movies at 12:45, the young man with a top knot staffing the concession stand asked me if I had seen this movie before. He had seen it three times and wanted to see it again. Admission was only $4.00. I feared the picture and sound would be awful in this dinky theater, but actually it was fine. We can thank digital projection and sound for the demise of bad movie theaters.
The movie was well done. You could see how much money was spent on special effects, blowing up cars, crashing airplanes, splitting a Staten Island ferry in half. The movie was filmed in a half dozen places, all of which gave the filmmakers tax credits. Tom Holland, the 21-year old star, was adorable. I didn't believe he was fifteen, unless a fifteen-year old boy has his hair styled and colored and has a trainer come to his house three times a week to work him out. Still, it was a break-out part for a young actor, who is in every scene, and gives off the sincerity that's written into the script. My favorites were Robert Downey, Jr., as Spiderman's mentor, Marisa Tomei as a hipster Aunt May, and especially Michael Keaton, balls out as the villain of the piece. Kudos to the producers for the multi-racial high school, realistic for New York, and the men and women of all races who portray the faculty. Nice touch. So I liked it, even though it is very much a "boy" movie.The female actors don't have a lot to do.
I went back to the hotel to nap, missing, the late afternoon thunder storm, dined on a bowl of pasta and a salad near the motel, and set off to find the remaining historic places on my list before turning in. It was a wild goose chase for most of them, down rural roads, looking for streets that were unsigned. I only took a pic of a house in downtown Galax.
Galax particularly is a nice little town, with a real central business district. There was once a railroad and a furniture factory, now a rail trail and a decaying building for sale. It's a center for bluegrass music and the furniture company still has a showroom in town. Yes, most of the people voted for the current President in both Carroll County and Galax, and I still saw some of his signs around. The people I spoke to were unfailingly polite and respectful. No funny looks or racial innuendos, which happen in some places.
The scenery is lovely out there in the Blue Ridge. The trees were not exactly the ones in Morgantown. I would need to read up to find out what does grow there. This was a fun trip for me. I was home by 4 P.M. Friday, held up by construction on I-79 near Clarksburg, most of the way home.
Update: Vaughan-Bassett Furniture is, in fact, still manufactured in Galax.
I ended up booking one of the cheap brands of my usual motel chain at the exit on I-77 between Hillsville and the independent city of Galax, about seven miles from each of them, three counties south of Princeton, West Virginia, and on the border of North Carolina. I could have done this differently by staying in a campground or renting a cabin along Blue Ridge Parkway or in New River State Park. My custom is to stay in anonymous chain hotels. It's boring, but there it is.
I drove the 270 miles from Morgantown to Hillsville, napped, then checked out Hillsville. It's a pretty town with a historic court house, and a newer fake colonial county office complex nearby. There are two blocks of commercial buildings, also historic, and a small residential area north on Main Street. The real commercial district is at the I-77 interchange with US 58, a few miles west of Main St. I walked a bit downtown and visited the library, which has a collection of dolls, mostly International Barbies. I didn't ask why. I did ask the librarian where to visit. She suggested the old courthouse, which has a museum centered around a shooting that occurred there in 1912.
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| Carroll County Courthouse, 1870s, with a monument to Confederate soldiers |
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| Doll collection, Carroll County Library, Hillsville |
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| Main St. Historic District, Hillsville |
I didn't see a lot of Confederate stuff in Hillsville, although the old courthouse has a statue dedicated to Confederate soldiers. This area was out of most of the Civil War action, isolated in the Blue Ridge and west of Virginia's main cities. The railroad didn't arrive until after the Civil War. Wikipedia says that Carroll County has been Republican since the Civil War because it was a haven for deserters from the Confederate Army.
I realized there wasn't going to be much "city" in this area, so before dark Wednesday I drove a piece of Blue Ridge Parkway, which runs west to east through the southern part of Carroll County. I drove west to Galax, which straddles the line between Carroll County and Grayson County, then south to Blue Ridge Parkway. I noticed the beginning of a rail trail in Galax, a bike store that rents, and a movie theater outside of downtown Galax, showing the new Spiderman movie.
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| Vista along Blue Ridge Parkway, Carroll County |
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| Farmland along Blue Ridge Parkway |
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| Sidna Allen House, 1910. The county historical society is trying to raise money to complete the restoration. The Allens were implicated in the courthouse massacre in 1912 |
I decided to go to Galax Thursday morning, rent a bike to ride on the rail trail in New River Park, then see "Spiderman." It was supposed to be cool in the morning, then warming up with thunderstorms in the afternoon, clearing later.
I accomplished those things. It was cool, but humid in the morning, and I rode the trail from 9:30 to 11:30 along New River and some other streams, in a park, adjacent to some semi-rural residential areas. I ate lunch at a diner-type place, nicer looking than I expected and busy, in downtown Galax. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the mayo, and, uh, onion rings. I was impressed that the server knew without my asking that I would want ketchup for my onion rings.
At the movies at 12:45, the young man with a top knot staffing the concession stand asked me if I had seen this movie before. He had seen it three times and wanted to see it again. Admission was only $4.00. I feared the picture and sound would be awful in this dinky theater, but actually it was fine. We can thank digital projection and sound for the demise of bad movie theaters.
The movie was well done. You could see how much money was spent on special effects, blowing up cars, crashing airplanes, splitting a Staten Island ferry in half. The movie was filmed in a half dozen places, all of which gave the filmmakers tax credits. Tom Holland, the 21-year old star, was adorable. I didn't believe he was fifteen, unless a fifteen-year old boy has his hair styled and colored and has a trainer come to his house three times a week to work him out. Still, it was a break-out part for a young actor, who is in every scene, and gives off the sincerity that's written into the script. My favorites were Robert Downey, Jr., as Spiderman's mentor, Marisa Tomei as a hipster Aunt May, and especially Michael Keaton, balls out as the villain of the piece. Kudos to the producers for the multi-racial high school, realistic for New York, and the men and women of all races who portray the faculty. Nice touch. So I liked it, even though it is very much a "boy" movie.The female actors don't have a lot to do.
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| Galax Commercial District |
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| Empty factory, Galax |
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| Falls along the rail trail, New River State Park |
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| New River State Park |
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| Felts House, 1930, Galax |
I went back to the hotel to nap, missing, the late afternoon thunder storm, dined on a bowl of pasta and a salad near the motel, and set off to find the remaining historic places on my list before turning in. It was a wild goose chase for most of them, down rural roads, looking for streets that were unsigned. I only took a pic of a house in downtown Galax.
Galax particularly is a nice little town, with a real central business district. There was once a railroad and a furniture factory, now a rail trail and a decaying building for sale. It's a center for bluegrass music and the furniture company still has a showroom in town. Yes, most of the people voted for the current President in both Carroll County and Galax, and I still saw some of his signs around. The people I spoke to were unfailingly polite and respectful. No funny looks or racial innuendos, which happen in some places.
The scenery is lovely out there in the Blue Ridge. The trees were not exactly the ones in Morgantown. I would need to read up to find out what does grow there. This was a fun trip for me. I was home by 4 P.M. Friday, held up by construction on I-79 near Clarksburg, most of the way home.
Update: Vaughan-Bassett Furniture is, in fact, still manufactured in Galax.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
The Wedding, The Fourth of July, and City Council
I normally just do what I have to do, make plans and carry them out. I understand that I am not young and I have to be a little careful. No one else sees that.
Last weekend, my sister Robin came in from Maryland. Part of it was to spend the holiday with us, but also she wanted to see me installed in City Council on July 5. Joe and I were asked to do a wedding July 2 in Pittsburgh. The groom is from Morgantown, and we did his brother's wedding three years ago in Charleston. I used to sing for Jewish prayer services. I stopped after the major holidays in 2003. I had been ill that year, and found doing the services too hard for me. People know I sing, but I am rarely asked. Joe does his own singing at synagogue, and I don't want to compete with him. I have a book of cantor music for life-cycle events. At the wedding, I sang the sheva b'rachot, the traditional seven wedding blessings, a benediction, and a selection from Song of Songs. I worked on my voice for the week before and rehearsed the music at home with the piano we almost never use.
Saturday, we drove the seventy-five miles to the Strip District in Pittsburgh, in time for a late afternoon rehearsal and then dinner at a seafood restaurant. The buffet did not include any "forbidden species," to my relief. We went back to our hotel after dinner; the couple and their friends stayed later to drink and party.
It was warm in Pittsburgh Sunday. We left our hotel, dressed for the wedding just after noon, and found a restaurant for lunch. We had looked around the area earlier. We were in suits while everyone else was in summer wear. A nap would have been nice. Instead, we sat in the air conditioning at the Heinz Museum where the wedding was to be.
The wedding went off without a hitch. The groom was handsome, the bride beautiful in a gorgeous dress, Joe was charming and entertaining, and I sang better than I thought I would. We stayed for dinner and left after 8:30 to drive home, just as the bride and groom were lifted on chairs while everyone danced around them.
The bride and groom are graduates of WVU, and we met many of their thirtyish friends who had gone to school with them, some from West Virginia, all living in Pittsburgh. A typical comment was "We didn't see a future for ourselves anywhere in West Virginia. We learned to do high-tech jobs, which don't exist in West Virginia, and we also wanted to be in a more urban and sophisticated environment." We have work to do here if we hope to attract or retain bright, educated young people.
We got home around ten, and I just wanted to sleep. Robin and Joe played Scrabble before going to bed.
It was my idea to have City Council members ride bikes with the kids in Morgantown's Fourth of July parade. I was already exhausted. We had been out Monday night in Fairmont with friends, who had fireworks, and cooked the kind of vegetarian food we don't normally eat. I take a "water" pill every other day, and I was on the last day of antibiotics for a cut on my arm that was infected. I wanted to stay home, take care of my stressed digestive system and rest up before the parade. The bikes were to meet at five. Instead, we went out late in the morning to walk around Cheat Lake, one of the prettiest recreation areas around here. It was already too hot. Joe and Robin wanted to go out for lunch; we settled on a "fast casual " chain restaurant near our house, so I could nap for an hour before going out to ride my bike the three miles from our house to downtown. It was 86 F. at 5 P.M. Four of us from Council showed up to ride. We rode from the meeting spot to the head of the parade, then waited close to an hour to step off. I was dizzy and had to sit on the curb. The parade went well, and although people offered me a ride home, I opted to ride back. I had used up the one bottle of water I brought, and I had one of those plastic envelopes of juice-like drink, courtesy of one of the organizers for the kids.
I got home close to 8 P.M., overheated and dehydrated. I drank three bottles of water, and Robin put a wet towel on my head, as I was burning up.I managed to swallow some food after 9.
Our first Council meeting was Wednesday, and I had suggested we all meet at a flatbread-pizza-and- salad brew pub in Morgantown's Wharf District for dinner. I knew they could accommodate a crowd. I barely got out of bed most of the day. Twenty people showed up for dinner: the seven Councilors, spouses, some children and friends. I was happy that we could all relax together without the rancor that plagued the last council.
Our installation on council only took ten minutes, as I expected. There was some business and we each had a chance to say something at the end. My ward is possibly the most politically conservative in the city. I explained my being there by comparing myself to Christoper Isherwood, the author whose story "Goodbye to Berlin" became the musical "Cabaret." Isherwood once wrote that his Catholic British mother wanted him to be patriotic, religious, and married. He said he had become that, only American, a Hindu, and married to another man. As someone who is religious, married, and a homeowner, I said felt that I am exactly in the right neighborhood.
I'm elated to be on the City Council, and I was happy to be at that first meeting. I've been to City Council meetings before, but it's different being on the Council. It's an awesome responsibility.
It's now Sunday night, and I have stayed as close to home as possible the last few days. I'm still out more than most men my age, but sleeping more during the day, and feeling like I had the wind knocked out of me. I did bicycle an hour and a half this afternoon in cooler than average weather, but I skipped seeing Bernie Sanders, whom we saw in Charleston two weeks ago, and also the Morgantown Interfaith Council this afternoon, where Joe was explaining Jewish practices to the group. Tappuz, our cat, has also been staying close to home, instead of spending most of her time outside, as she had been doing since the weather warmed up. Maybe she reflects my diminished energy, or perhaps she was frightened by fireworks last week.
Tuesday will mark five years since our arrival in Morgantown. My original goal here was only to be a spouse for Joe, and to support him in his new career. Now I have my own career as a representative of my city, and last week I enjoyed performing at a wedding (it helped that the couple was so sweet). I've also signed up for a writing workshop at the end of the month, so hopefully, I will be doing more writing than the disjointed pieces I put up on this blog.
I only hope I can muster the energy to continue these endeavors, pacing myself physically, especially, but also emotionally, so I don't crash and burn.
Last weekend, my sister Robin came in from Maryland. Part of it was to spend the holiday with us, but also she wanted to see me installed in City Council on July 5. Joe and I were asked to do a wedding July 2 in Pittsburgh. The groom is from Morgantown, and we did his brother's wedding three years ago in Charleston. I used to sing for Jewish prayer services. I stopped after the major holidays in 2003. I had been ill that year, and found doing the services too hard for me. People know I sing, but I am rarely asked. Joe does his own singing at synagogue, and I don't want to compete with him. I have a book of cantor music for life-cycle events. At the wedding, I sang the sheva b'rachot, the traditional seven wedding blessings, a benediction, and a selection from Song of Songs. I worked on my voice for the week before and rehearsed the music at home with the piano we almost never use.
Saturday, we drove the seventy-five miles to the Strip District in Pittsburgh, in time for a late afternoon rehearsal and then dinner at a seafood restaurant. The buffet did not include any "forbidden species," to my relief. We went back to our hotel after dinner; the couple and their friends stayed later to drink and party.
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| Joe at the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was held, Strip District, Pittsburgh |
It was warm in Pittsburgh Sunday. We left our hotel, dressed for the wedding just after noon, and found a restaurant for lunch. We had looked around the area earlier. We were in suits while everyone else was in summer wear. A nap would have been nice. Instead, we sat in the air conditioning at the Heinz Museum where the wedding was to be.
The wedding went off without a hitch. The groom was handsome, the bride beautiful in a gorgeous dress, Joe was charming and entertaining, and I sang better than I thought I would. We stayed for dinner and left after 8:30 to drive home, just as the bride and groom were lifted on chairs while everyone danced around them.
The bride and groom are graduates of WVU, and we met many of their thirtyish friends who had gone to school with them, some from West Virginia, all living in Pittsburgh. A typical comment was "We didn't see a future for ourselves anywhere in West Virginia. We learned to do high-tech jobs, which don't exist in West Virginia, and we also wanted to be in a more urban and sophisticated environment." We have work to do here if we hope to attract or retain bright, educated young people.
We got home around ten, and I just wanted to sleep. Robin and Joe played Scrabble before going to bed.
It was my idea to have City Council members ride bikes with the kids in Morgantown's Fourth of July parade. I was already exhausted. We had been out Monday night in Fairmont with friends, who had fireworks, and cooked the kind of vegetarian food we don't normally eat. I take a "water" pill every other day, and I was on the last day of antibiotics for a cut on my arm that was infected. I wanted to stay home, take care of my stressed digestive system and rest up before the parade. The bikes were to meet at five. Instead, we went out late in the morning to walk around Cheat Lake, one of the prettiest recreation areas around here. It was already too hot. Joe and Robin wanted to go out for lunch; we settled on a "fast casual " chain restaurant near our house, so I could nap for an hour before going out to ride my bike the three miles from our house to downtown. It was 86 F. at 5 P.M. Four of us from Council showed up to ride. We rode from the meeting spot to the head of the parade, then waited close to an hour to step off. I was dizzy and had to sit on the curb. The parade went well, and although people offered me a ride home, I opted to ride back. I had used up the one bottle of water I brought, and I had one of those plastic envelopes of juice-like drink, courtesy of one of the organizers for the kids.
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| At Cheat Lake, July 4, photo by Kevin of Woodburn Shanks Barbecue, who happened to be there |
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| Three councilors on bikes, plus our pal Evan Hansen, July 4 I'm not sure who snapped this photo |
I got home close to 8 P.M., overheated and dehydrated. I drank three bottles of water, and Robin put a wet towel on my head, as I was burning up.I managed to swallow some food after 9.
Our first Council meeting was Wednesday, and I had suggested we all meet at a flatbread-pizza-and- salad brew pub in Morgantown's Wharf District for dinner. I knew they could accommodate a crowd. I barely got out of bed most of the day. Twenty people showed up for dinner: the seven Councilors, spouses, some children and friends. I was happy that we could all relax together without the rancor that plagued the last council.
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| Dinner July 5 with Councilors and family, taken by a server at the restaurant |
Our installation on council only took ten minutes, as I expected. There was some business and we each had a chance to say something at the end. My ward is possibly the most politically conservative in the city. I explained my being there by comparing myself to Christoper Isherwood, the author whose story "Goodbye to Berlin" became the musical "Cabaret." Isherwood once wrote that his Catholic British mother wanted him to be patriotic, religious, and married. He said he had become that, only American, a Hindu, and married to another man. As someone who is religious, married, and a homeowner, I said felt that I am exactly in the right neighborhood.
I'm elated to be on the City Council, and I was happy to be at that first meeting. I've been to City Council meetings before, but it's different being on the Council. It's an awesome responsibility.
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| Our official portrait from the City's photographer |
It's now Sunday night, and I have stayed as close to home as possible the last few days. I'm still out more than most men my age, but sleeping more during the day, and feeling like I had the wind knocked out of me. I did bicycle an hour and a half this afternoon in cooler than average weather, but I skipped seeing Bernie Sanders, whom we saw in Charleston two weeks ago, and also the Morgantown Interfaith Council this afternoon, where Joe was explaining Jewish practices to the group. Tappuz, our cat, has also been staying close to home, instead of spending most of her time outside, as she had been doing since the weather warmed up. Maybe she reflects my diminished energy, or perhaps she was frightened by fireworks last week.
Tuesday will mark five years since our arrival in Morgantown. My original goal here was only to be a spouse for Joe, and to support him in his new career. Now I have my own career as a representative of my city, and last week I enjoyed performing at a wedding (it helped that the couple was so sweet). I've also signed up for a writing workshop at the end of the month, so hopefully, I will be doing more writing than the disjointed pieces I put up on this blog.
I only hope I can muster the energy to continue these endeavors, pacing myself physically, especially, but also emotionally, so I don't crash and burn.
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