Saturday, August 28, 2010

Alma not representative of all Swedes

A cool summer, but my heirloom Glaciers have been ripe for weeks. They are a Swedish tomato. I like to imagine someone gathering their tiny seeds and bringing them all the way here to grow in my little garden on 13th Street and to feed my family, who are part Swedish, too. Using Chuck's grandmother, Alma, as my representative Swede, I always assumed that they were relaxed, uncomplicated, easily- pleased people but after a summer of Bergman films, I’ve changed my mind.

Friday, August 27, 2010

And some are heroes

When a woman risked her life to rescue  Deogratias from a banana grove full of corpses during the genocide in Burundi, she told him Hutu or Tutsi didn't matter to her. I’m a mother, she said. That’s my ethnicity.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

pretty old

Yesterday a man was killed on the same road we took to the coast. Last night we passed by the place where it happened, and I thought of his family. Today I read an article about the accident. So sad, but at least he wasn't young, I told myself. He was pretty old. Oh, he was my age.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

then I have to confess

Maybe my last post was a little disingenuous, considering the fact that I’ve just finished writing a young adult novel.

why aren't you someone else?

At a reading a man asked why I don’t write YA books and I said that I couldn’t because kids scrutinize you and I wasn’t up to it. Which was so phony. I had read that someplace. Really I didn’t know what to say. I was vaguely aware that he was being sarcastic, and told him the first thing that came to me. Why don't you write YA books? It was like being asked why don't you write westerns or why aren't you a poet. If you see what I mean.