Happy Birthday Wild Thing

New York-- A few weeks ago we went to an 80th birthday celebration for Maurice Sendak at the 92nd Street Y in New York. It was a wonderful night of readings and music and funny stories, starting off with Where the Wild Things Are, read in yiddish (a language spoken by Maurice's family when he was growing up). You didn't have to understand a word of yiddish to follow along with the illustrations, projected on a large screen. It was charming and very funny.



Meryl Streep read from The Sign on Rosie's Door. Has anything ever been read so well? Dave Eggers told us about a novel he's writing based on Where the Wild Things Are. We saw clips from a movie in progress, directed by Spike Jones, also based on Wild Things. And then Maurice -- who seemed to genuinely enjoy this tribute came up to the stage. Truly an evening I won't forget.

So Happy Birthday Maurice! You and your incredible work will always be an inspiration to me. Did you know the first book Randy ever read aloud was Little Bear with your gentle and funny illustrations? Thank you for that, too.
Love,
Judy

Hockey Mom

New York -- It occurred to me while listening to Sarah Palin deliver her speech at the Republican Convention that I'm a "hockey mom," too. That's right. Make that 35 years as a hockey mom. Hey, I go back so far I boiled Larry's mouthguard in Hawaiian Punch (his choice). When I took Larry to a Rangers game at Madison Square Garden he explained to me that blood and vomit bounce on ice. The things your 10 year old can teach you! It's been a long time since I've seen Larry on ice but at 45 he still plays in a league twice a week. Funny that I never thought to include hockey mom on my professional resume.

Aside from being female, this may be the end of what I have in common with Sarah Palin and, to be honest, I was never one of those pit bull moms. I don't think I'd ever heard of pit bulls in the 70's. I was more of a yellow lab, but that could be a question of style. No doubt Sarah has her own style. And she's a good speaker whether or not she writes her own speeches. But it's her politics and religious right beliefs that scare me most.

I agree with Obama that children of candidates should be off limits. But in this case, Bristol's pregnancy at 17, says a lot about Sarah's politics. She's against comprehensive sex education in schools. She favors "abstinence only" programs. She doesn't want teens to learn about birth control. She doesn't want them taught that condoms, when used properly, can protect them not only from pregnancy, but from disease. She's anti-choice for women of all ages -- she's against abortion as an option even in cases of pregnancy caused by rape or incest. She would overturn Roe v Wade if given the chance. I'm not telling Sarah what's right for her family and I don't want her deciding what's right for mine. Or for any of our families.

I feel for Bristol. In my high school class three top girls became pregnant during their senior year. Abortion was illegal then. Some girls were so desperate they chose to have unsafe, illegal abortions. A woman I know lost a daughter that way. She bled to death. Some girls were sent to live with relatives in other states so no one would know, then gave their babies up for adoption. For others, hastily arranged marriages were the answer. For my classmates, those early, unwanted pregnancies changed their lives and their futures forever.

It is said that when Sarah became mayor of Wasilla she wanted to ban some books from the public library. When the librarian refused, she fired her. Public outcry caused Sarah to relent and the librarian got her job back. Once again, Sarah wanted to decide not just what was right for her children, but what was right for all children.

Her father taught science, yet she believes that creationism should be taught side-by-side with evolution in public schools. Her strong religious views will no doubt shape all her governing policies. This is a scary idea.

A young man who's been writing to me for years e-mailed after watching Sarah at the Republican Convention. He was impressed. This young man, whom I consider a friend, is gay, unemployed due to downsizing at his company, depressed and without health care. For all these reasons and many more he should be listening carefully and reading widely on the issues at stake in this election. I can't believe he can be so easily fooled. But if he can be, then others who are undecided can be, too. I'm worried. And scared -- or did I already say that?

This election is too important to our future and the future of our children and grandchildren to decide in haste. Whether John McCain chose Sarah Palin as his running mate because she's a woman and he was pandering to those women disappointed by Hillary's loss, or whether he choose her because of her conservative and deeply religious views, and was pandering to the right wingers (without whose votes he cannot win the election) of his party -- we'll never know. It's the first and biggest decision he's made in this election. Did he make it in haste when push came to shove, or did he give it the long and careful consideration it warranted? Everything points to a quickly made, purely political decision. Even one of McCain's inner circle gleefully announced this election is about personalities, not issues.

I don't know about you, but I'm making my decisions based on the issues. There are no "do overs" here. We have to choose a leader whose judgment we respect. One who doesn't make important decisions based on gut feelings. That's why I want the calm, thoughtful, intelligent, knowledgeable candidate who will surround himself with the best and the brightest. That's why I'm supporting Barack Obama.

What I don't need is some sarcastic hockey mom who describes herself as a pit bull, who flaunts her pregnant teenager and her new special needs infant, a heartbeat away from the presidency.

Yesterday on Today

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Yesterday I was on the Today Show with Hoda and Kathie Lee. Turned out to be fun. That's how I judge every appearance on TV. Did I have fun? Because if I did then it was worth it. But I'm never really sure until I see it because I'm vain enough to want it to look good, too. (Will I outgrow this concern and become less superficial? Are you kidding?)

We're still on the Vineyard so our day went something like this:

MVY Airport -- Arrive at 8:30 (after staying up way too late the night before to watch the Dem Convention on TV. More about the convention in another blog -- but wasn't Michelle warm and lovely? And how about Caroline Kennedy introducing her Uncle Teddy? George and I went through a box of Kleenex between Caroline, Teddy and Michelle)

Arrive NY 11am -- Starving. Not used to skipping breakfast.

Sarabeth's -- taxi from La Guardia directly to Sarabeth's (my favorite place for breakfast, brunch, or lunch in NY and Key West). Fill up on a delicious veggie frittata.

Vicky, Christine, Barcelona -- George has to see this movie, Woody Allen's latest, as it's about to open at the Tropic Cinema in Key West and he has to write a column about it asap. He checks his iPhone and it's playing at Lincoln Plaza Cinema, a short walk from Sarabeth's. Do you know how long it's been since I went to a movie at that time of day? Neither do I. Maybe junior high when I'd meet my girlfriends for lunch at the Martine Shop in Elizabeth, New Jersey, then catch an afternoon movie. Never mind that I swore I had to shop for a jacket to wear on TV the next morning. George wants to know what's wrong with the jacket I'm wearing. Okay -- point taken -- we go to the movies. We both love it.

Robert Stuart Salon -- have to hustle up to Amsterdam and 84th St. where we have back-to-back haircuts with Robert starting at 3pm. No way am I going on TV without a haircut. I barely look in the mirror on the Vineyard (this is true!) but there are some things that are necessary and a good haircut is one of them.

Feline -- two hours to spare before meeting friends for an early dinner. The local day spa can fit me in for a pedicure. I race over to 75th St just off Broadway. I don't know/trust anyone on the Vineyard to do a pedicure. I once got an infection from a bad job so would rather cut and polish my own toenails than risk that again. Don't realize how ragged my fingernails are until the nail technician asks if I wouldn't also like a manicure. Wow -- I'm almost a Big City Girl again.

Dovetail -- George and I meet up outside this restaurant, one that opened while we were away. Even though the poached chicken is described by our wait-person as tasting "kind of like raw chicken" our friend orders it and pronounces it delicious. My meal is too fancy/foodie for me but then I like a simple piece of grilled fish with fresh veggies.

Convention-mania -- get back to our apartment, turn on the TV and wait for Hillary. What color is that pantsuit? Or is it our TV? But she does a good job and I know my publisher is going to love that reference to the sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits. They publish Ann Brashares. Hope Ann also got a kick out of it. Hope, too, that Hillary's sisterhood will now support Obama.

Wake-Up Call -- literally. 7am. Into the shower and out. My hair is too soft. Maybe the difference in water? Maybe a product used yesterday when Robert did my hair? It doesn't want to curl. Falls flat. I scrunch and fluff, hoping for humidity. Eat a piece of dry toast. Too nervous to eat more than that. Try on four jackets hanging in my closet, all with my standby black pants. Settle on the blue. I knew I would. Then have to decide between my trusty western boots, or summer sandals. Instead, go for the one pair of real shoes in my closet. Wore them to a wedding last fall or was it the fall before -- yes, it was the fall before. Hated them then. Love them now. Ta dah! I'm ready.

Cupcakes -- Beverly (my editor/publisher) and Noreen (publicity) accompany me to the NBC studio at Rockefeller Center. On her way to meet me, Beverly stopped at a Whole Foods to get me cupcakes. A very sweet gesture. But cupcakes first thing in the morning? Even I have my standards.

Makeup -- I remind the makeup artist to go easy. Natural, I say. Then I remind her that I'm very old. I wait for her to say something reassuring. She doesn't, but she smiles. The hair person works magic with a hair dryer wearing a sock (at least it looks like a sock). My curls return. I'm escorted to the set. Grab a couple of tissues in case my nose runs on set. (It doesn't.)

6 Minutes or Less -- it feels a lot longer when you're doing it.

Relief -- it's over. We stop by the apartment so I can change back into jeans and sandals for the trip back to the Vineyard. I gobble up both of the cupcakes. Pretty good.

Vineyard -- we get back in time to see the delegates cast their votes at the convention.

Jenny -- 6:45 -- get to the restaurant in time for dinner with Jenny Allen who has just performed the latest version of her one woman play in progress. She's fabulous and so is her play. I'm still sporting the eye makeup from the show though I sponged off the rest of my face. George thinks the eye makeup is sexy. Maybe I should learn how to apply it myself.

Designated Driver -- that would be me. I don't drink and George had several glasses of wine with dinner.

Joe Biden -- made it home in time to catch his speech as the Dem candidate for Vice Prez. George and I go through another box of Kleenex. Favorite moment, aside from Biden's strong speech -- a shot of Michelle O, hands over her face, moved to tears by the story of Joe Biden's life. (Missed Bill Clinton's speech but have it ready to watch later.)

Tonight -- is the Big One. I'm already feeling nervous for Obama. I'll bet he doesn't try on every suit in his closet before an appearance. I'll bet he knows what he says is way more important than how he looks. You know I'll be rooting for him. He's my candidate.

Dog Days

On the Vineyard I've been reading and staying up way too late at night to finish the most unforgettable novel I've read in a long time -- The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by first time novelist David Wroblewski.

It's a big, compelling, beautifully written, yet totally accessable book. I'm glad I didn't read too much about it before I picked it up. I knew that dogs were an important part of the story and I wondered if I'd relate. I've never had my own dog. Mookie, Larry's dog, was the first dog I ever loved.




She was also the first dog I ever knew well. I called her my grand-dog. George and I took care of her when Larry had to be away. She stayed with us in New York and one November afternoon George took her with him when he went running in Riverside Park. He was gone a very long time. I later learned he was afraid that he'd lost Mookie . He thought she was right there with him and then, she wasn't. He searched everywhere, asked everyone if they'd seen a small white and brown dog. By then it was late afternoon and growing dark. I don't know what George must have been thinking as he crossed Riverside Drive, a busy street, and entered our apartment building. Surely he knew I would...um...better not to go there.

But when he entered our lobby ready to face the music, there was Mookie! She'd crossed Riverside Drive on her own and come home. Amazing - since she didn't even live there. I don't know what we'd have done or how we'd have gone on if we'd been responsible for her disappearance.

Another time, Mookie was in our care on the Vineyard. It was around Labor Day weekend and I was watching the US OpenTennis finals on TV when I realized I hadn't seen Mookie in a while. She wasn't anywhere in the house. We searched outside, down by the water, out in the woods - but no Mookie. Again, it was late afternoon and growing foggier by the minute. We live a mile down a dirt road, with other dirt roads going off in different directions.

We got on bikes and covered the area, calling to her. Nothing. We knew that when Larry left town Mookie always tried to find him. It was Larry's idea to take her with us to the airport. She would know that Larry was getting on a plane and since she didn't like to fly, she'd accept his absence. But I was sure she had followed his scent all the way to the airport. I convinced George that we had to drive there right away. So we did. (What was I thinking...Lassie Come Home?)

When we pulled up I saw a policeman who recognized the panic in my voice. He hadn't seen a small white and brown dog but suggested I call the police and report her missing. Of course! Why didn't we think of that first?

We learned the police (or was it animal control?) had indeed picked up a small white and brown dog on Lambert's Cove Road -- this is a busy road at the beginning of the mile long dirt road leading to our house. My instinct was right -- she was trying to find Larry. I hesitated before asking -- was she okay?

Yes, he said, but she was a very bad dog. She'd brought traffic to a stop on Lambert's Cove Road on a Sunday afternoon. The police were called by someone in a car who couldn't get to where he was going because Mookie kept zig-zagging across the road. When they arrived they couldn't catch her. Mookie could be scary if you didn't know her. She was an alpha dog. She growled. She snapped. They had to catch her with a net. Even then, she wouldn't let them get close enough to read her tag or her tatooed ID. She was taken to doggie jail but at least she was safe.

I said I would get her right away. I was told I'd have to wait until the next day. That doesn't make any sense, I said. So George and I drove there. Mookie was in the last kennel. A runaway curled up with a stuffed teddy bear she'd been given.

She was chagrined when she saw us, tail between her legs. I told her I'd get her out if it took all night. And it almost did. I called everyone I could think of -- I said things I couldn't believe I was saying -- I threatened: If you don't let me have her tonight I'm going to sleep outside her kennel and write about this for the local paper! One call led to another. I talked to a lot of animal lovers that night and I've never forgotten their understanding of my situation and their kindness. Finally, someone knew someone who knew someone with a key. Arrangements were made to meet him.

At last Mookie was rescued. By then it was quite late. We kept her in our bedroom all night.


We didn't let her out of our sight until Larry returned home and when he did and I told him the story he said, You should have let her spend the night in jail. Maybe she'd have learned a lesson.
Gee, thanks Larry!

And those were only two of Mookie's many adventures. There were so many more. She once rolled out of Larry's car onto a highway.


She once jumped into the water and tried to catch Larry, who was sailing into Vineyard Sound.


He and George had to drop the sails, scoop Mookie out of the water, bring her back to me in a dinghy, then continue their sail.

I wrapped her in a blanket and held her for an hour until she stopped shaking.



Mookie lived to be sixteen. I can't see a Jack Russell without thinking of her -- without missing her, the humor she brought into our lives, the unconditional love she had for Larry.

Did reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle remind me of Mookie? It reminded me of her loyalty and her intelligence. But the Sawtelle dogs are something else. All I can say is it's a good thing I'm not trying to write a novel this summer. There's no way I can even read another book right now, let alone write one. I'll savor this story and the characters, both human and canine, for a long time. Thank you, David Wroblewski, for writing this book. Read it and let me know what you think.

Happy Reading!
And Happy Dog Days of Summer,
Judy

Going, Going, Gone!

Today is pub date for Going, Going, Gone! the third book in the Pain & The Great One series. I'm always excited on pub date. Even though I already have a small box of copies sitting in my writing cabin (and I've already sniffed the book, something I do right away, even before I read it) the idea of the books being in stores and libraries gets me going. It means soon young readers will be sharing these stories and letting me know what they think.

But it's a bittersweet day, too, because I was scheduled to sign the book at Bunch of Grapes bookstore next week. Sadly, on July 4th, because of smoke and water damage due to a fire next door this great independent bookstore is closed for the season. I'll miss meeting the kids, both locals and visitors. I signed Soupy Saturdays there last summer, but wasn't on the island in May, to sign Cool Zone. I hope the bookstore is up and running next summer when Friend or Fiend? the 4th and final book (for now, anyway) in the series is published. It doesn't feel right to be here and not be able to hang out at Bunch of Grapes, browsing, buying, and signing books.
(You can read more on my July 9th post -- Happy July 4)

The Pain & Great One series is being published in the UK, too. So I've been doing interviews with British newspapers and radio, and last week, Irish Radio. The presenter on that show wanted to talk only about the books she read when she was growing up (Margaret, Deenie, Forever). I love talking about my early books but in this case I was so frustrated I just started yakking about the Pain & the Great One, telling anecdotes until she pulled the plug. I probably won't be invited back on that show. But that's another story.

The first three books are also available on CD's from Listening Library. Friend or Fiend? will be recorded in September. I get to read the part of Fluzzy the Cat in all four books. Fun!

If you've been reading my blog you know I've already finished writing Friend or Fiend? and Jim Stevenson has done wonderfully funny cover art. Now we're waiting to see his illustrations for the inside of the book -- always a treat. Both the US cover and the UK cover feature the Great One smushing an ice cream cone against the Pain's forehead. The UK editor has asked if the ice cream could be bright yellow or pink instead of chocolate. Since the story is about how the Pain eats only white food, and that means only the white kind of vanilla ice cream and the Great One likes chocolate best, I don't see how that's going to work. Here's a peek at the first round of cover art.

I'll tell you about the real sister who smushed an ice cream cone against her brother's forehead in a post I'll write soon.

For now,
Love,
Judy

Mutton Chops VS. Walrus Moustache

In June our friend Elizabeth Winthrop invited us to dinner to meet James Stevenson, the illustrator of the new Pain & Great One series. There's a tradition in publishing to keep the author and the illustrator of children's books apart (unless they're working as an official team). But aren't we always working as a team? It's never made sense to me. It has to do, I think, with the fear that the writer will impose her/his ideas on the illustrator instead of allowing the illustrator to interpret what the writer has written. A battle of the wills -- I'm more important than you! vs. You're nothing without me!

But when you have such respect as I have for James Stevenson, when you're thrilled that he's agreed to illustrate your work, you're not about to try to control what he draws. Instead, I find myself eagerly awaiting his illustrations -- laughing over them, thinking how well he brings my characters to life. Even Fluzzy the Cat has benefited from Jim's magic. With a stroke or two of his pen he shows exactly what Abigail, Jake, and Fluzzy are thinking. So this was my chance to thank him in person. Besides, he'd already finished three of the four books so I didn't think there was any danger in a face-to-face meeting. And I might have waited a very long time to meet Jim if not for our mutual friends.

And what a treat! Jim is just like his illustrations -- wry and witty, but charming, too. And he looks like Grandpa Pete in the 3rd book in the series, Going, Going, Gone! coming August 12. Well, not really -- but he has the same fancy moustache. This started an interesting after dinner conversation -- what exactly does one call his style of facial hair? Not even Jim knew. We started out with mutton chops -- but we were wrong --


because just the other day I found a website that shows and names all sorts of beards, moustaches, and yes - even mutton chops, which are actually a kind of side-burn -- and I can now report that Grandpa Pete (and Jim) both sport a walrus moustache. Anyway, that's my conclusion.

Thanks Elizabeth, for bringing us together!

There's more to this story. It's about having routine colonoscopies, something we don't necessarily want to talk about. I had my first ten years ago -- too long, I know, but hey, at least I did it. I always think of Audrey Hepburn who died of colon cancer and I say I'm doing it for her.

We all loved Audrey when we were teenagers. We wanted to be her. And after her career as a movie star she went on to do great work for UNICEF.



My colonoscopy was scheduled for Wednesday, and Monday night of that week was the only night Elizabeth could get us together with Jim and his wife. What to do?

Nothing was going to keep me from meeting Jim. Never mind that I was on a liquid diet. I arrived at Elizabeth's carrying my can of clear soup. (Most people need only one day of liquid diet before their colonoscopy but I need two - a long story that I'll spare you.) And next time I'm invited to dinner at Elizabeth's house I promise I'll eat real food which smelled so good I could hardly stand sitting at the table sipping my boringly clear soup!

For those who don't know, the colonoscopy procedure is nothing. Really. Besides, they give you feel-good drugs. It's the prep that gets me, though even that isn't so bad. Well, I can't say it's fun but after, you feel so good knowing you've finally done it, you don't mind. And the little polyps they sometimes remove and biospy could save your life.

So if you're 50+ make an appointment for that colonoscopy. We have a friend whose life was saved this year - at 50 - because he had the procedure. I've been told I need to have another in just 3 years and you can bet I'll keep that date, not just for Audrey, but for myself.

xx Judy

A Different Kind of Fireworks

HAPPY JULY 4TH?


No, this photo was taken from the window of our apartment in New York on June 24 as we were packing to leave for the Vineyard. Talk about surprises! I heard the booms, ran to the window to see what was going on, and for the next half hour stood mesmerized by this incredible display. Have no idea what was being celebrated in Central Park. I just hope whoever/whatever it was enjoyed it as much as we did. The next morning we flew to the Vineyard. What a send-off!

But on the real July 4th, as family and friends were gathering all over the island for the holiday weekend, word spread that a morning fire, originating in the basement of our favorite Vineyard Haven restaurant, Cafe Moxie, burned it to the ground -- and seriously damaged it's neighbor Bunch of Grapes, one of the best indie bookstores in the country. The restaurant and the bookstore shared a common wall. Bunch of Grapes is still standing but suffered such smoke and water damage that it will remain closed for the season. The business district of Vineyard Haven is very small and Bunch of Grapes - a large, welcoming, and well stocked bookstore - was the linchpin of Main Street. People came from all over the island to browse, to buy books, to attend special events, to see and be seen.

Our first summer on the island, 1983, Randy (she'd just graduated from college) got a job at Bunch of Grapes. Every afternoon she'd ride her bike into town and when the store closed at 9pm, she'd ride home again. I worried at first about her riding home in the dark, then through a path in the woods, but eventually I got used to it, and Randy loved working at the bookstore. She introduced us to the store and to its dynamic owner, Ann Nelson. George and I spent hours in the store that summer and every summer since. Can't remember how many book signings I've had there. Many. I remember one where Ann's mother served lemonade and cookies to the kids waiting in line. I always tell booksellers this story but it seems nobody wants to encourage sticky hands at a bookstore these days.

This summer I was slated to sign Going, Going, Gone! when it comes out in late August. But as of Monday, all events at Bunch of Grapes have been cancelled for the season. What a loss this year round bookstore for readers of all ages and all interests is to the island community! Ann's son (she recently turned the store over to him) is promising to rebuild. I called Ann to say our family is ready and willing to volunteer, and I know many other island residents have done the same. I think I'll call again today. You can read more about the fire; Cafe Moxie and the young couple who recently bought the restaurant; Bunch of Grapes and Ann Nelson - all with photos - at the Vineyard Gazette.
A sad start to a summer season though we're grateful no one was hurt.

On July 5th we celebrated Larry's birthday with a small family dinner. Randy cooked (risotto with fresh island peas -- heavenly) and baked (Aunt Frances's chocolate cake with mocha whipped cream frosting -- yummm). I was her sous chef. Larry prepared shrimp (I'm allergic to shellfish so stay out of the kitchen when it's around). Larry's birthdays usually bring many island friends to our table, and the atmosphere is more raucous than reflective. This year was different but no less enjoyable.

Larry, with his friend Kathryn - behind them is Randy with her cat, Keith (who inspired Fluzzy in the Pain & the Great One series.) Missing -- Elliot, who's in Spain, Amanda and Jim, who are in New Mexico, and George, who's taking the picture.

Moms get to go sentimental on the occasion of their children's birthdays (even when those children are in their 40's). I remember waiting and waiting through an early summer heat wave for him to be born. Of course, in those days, we didn't know the sex of our babies. We didn't know much of anything. My due date was Memorial Day. And Larry wasn't born until the 5th of July! I was 25. I'd gained 45 pounds. Had just two "mumu s" that fit by then. One was an orange and blue plaid, the other a white and turquoise print. I wore them everywhere. Washed them at night. It was the summer we got a color TV. The summer I fell in love with the Mets. Randy was just over two years old. I could hardly carry her. My mother came for the weekend to help. When I went into labor after dinner my mother got so worked up she had a spontaneous nosebleed. I was more worried about her than having the baby. Still, I bathed Randy and put her to sleep, then took a shower, and by the time we got to the hospital there was no time to spare. Larry was born just before midnight. I was out of it for the rest of that night. It wasn't until the next morning that I got to hold and bond with my baby boy. Back then they kept you in the hospital for a week. (I think I was looking forward to having a week off.) My mother phoned to say Randy would eat only applesauce and oreos. She was concerned. What should she do? The pediatrician assured me this was okay. And it was.

Happy Birthday, Larry!

xx Judy