|East Hampton Main Beach yesterday morning.|
that we hosted at our house--with no help other than the friends who brought deviled eggs and cornbread to go with the white chili I made. (Weirdly enough, I had more than enough bowls for everyone--I am a dish collector, and bowls appear to be a speciality.) Then after a long dry spell, I had had two theater reviews to write for the local paper. One of the plays was David Mamet's "November," a satire/farce about a conniving president who is trying to stay in office as his poll numbers slip "lower than Ghandi's cholesterol." It was hilarious.)
|I had just read a funny poem about|
our years together.
I'm in prep mode for the conference of the Alliance for Adoption and Culture for which I will be giving the opening night keynote speech. Before I leave I've got a short piece to write on what Adoption Awareness Month (November) means to me for an Indiana Adoption Network newsletter. (Not a cause for MORE awareness, for starters.)
I'll be heading to the Minneapolis where the conference is on Wednesday as flying out of Islip, the closest airport to me (50 miles) to Minneapolis is quite a trek. The flight takes me first to Philadelphia where I have a delightful nearly three-hour layover. Yikes.
That accounts for one meal, several walkarounds the airport (exercise) while trying not to be enticed buying a bauble at one of the ubiquitous Erwin Pearl shops I am sure to come across. But three hours! ye gods. I love where I live--the eastern tip of Long Island, close to the ocean. It's busy in the summer but calm in the fall and winter, and the beach right now is stunning and gorgeous, but getting in and out of here presents a time challenge, which is why I'm going a day early.
The conference organizers have kindly agreed to open my talk up to the public for free, so all are invited. It's at 7:30 p.m. Thursday, Oct. 27 at the Northstar Crowne Plaza in downtown Minneapolis. The topic is Reunion--Before and After. Not surprisingly, about that there is a lot to say, and I've been asked to include what I was doing in those years years like the Seventies and Eighties. I'll be trimming my talk down today and tomorrow. Incidentally, the conference runs from Thursday afternoon to Saturday evening.
Do join me if you are nearby. First mothers I suspect will be in short supply. Supporters needed! A book sale with the work of all the presenters beforehand will be from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m.n but I don't know if I will be around for that--last minute prep time--but I'm sure you will be welcome there. I will hang out after my talk.
One last thing--anybody out there interested in having their search done by the producers of Long Lost Family, and be willing to have it televised? They do the search and pay all the expenses. I will have more details later, so do not contact me now but watch this space. --lorraine
A BIG Thanks to all of you who order from Amazon, or the ads in the sidebar, through FMF. Adoption from our point of view is not a paying gig, I write as I smile. The money is made is getting the babies for adoption, not talking about the wreckage left after.
My letter was published in the Oct. 24 issue of The Nation. I'm including it here because it references one of the first pieces I wrote about adoption after I read about Florence Fisher. We bring up the issue whenever we can: (The headline is a good pun, don't ya think?)
Not So Gurley After All
While I do not take issue with Madeleine Schwartz’s image of Helen Gurley Brown in her review of two recent biographies of Cosmopolitan’s most famous editor [“Notes From Many Years,” Sept. 26/Oct. 3], her characterizations of the magazine ignore something: Among the articles about attracting men and sex, one could find pieces that dealt with other issues affecting women’s lives. I know because, in the 1970s, I wrote them: the story of an adoptee’s long, arduous search to find her birth mother and the fallout from her adoptive parents; a long piece (in blank verse, no less) about the breakup of my first marriage, with no happy ending in sight; and a serious discussion of the effect of premenstrual hormones. Woman’s Day had rejected the latter with a brisk “Too retro.” Certainly I was not the only one writing such pieces.
The reason Cosmopolitan was successful was that, in between the articles on relationships and the joy of sex, we could find articles that other women’s magazines wouldn’t touch—articles that were either “too retro” or ahead of their time, depending on your perspective.
sag harbor, n.y.