Saturday, September 5, 2020

Labour Day silence

"Don't take my moaning too seriously," I wrote to Jason yesterday. "I'll be like this for the next week or more." I'm watching friends get their books in "Must read this fall" lists, excerpted in major magazines, the writers themselves being interviewed in fine places. That's how it's done and I celebrate every moment of their success. But part of me is as jealous as I was 20 years ago, watching other children win prizes at the end of the school year, a parade of kids going up to accept their awards, and never, not once, did either of my children win anything. "But they're so terrific!" I was thinking. "Not even a tiny bit of public recognition?"

It's like that and will be until this era of book launch settles down. I think the solution would be to start something else right away. But watching my children not win prizes, my first thought wasn't, I'll have another child immediately!

A different scenario, I know. And - I was in fact interviewed by the estimable Esther Arbeid from the Miles Nadal Jewish Community Centre, for a segment they call "Kibbitz with Esther." Fame!

My friend and student Brad has offered to listen to the audiobook, so, before it's uploaded, we can do one final check for glitches. And then it's off to the races.

It's a cool grey Labour Day weekend, and the city is deserted, dead still, wonderful, hardly a car, and certainly no construction. Anna and gang are on their way back from Nova Scotia after what sounds like a restorative vacation. My tall son is coming over for a visit tonight after many weeks. He shared this with me and I'm going to share it with you: a woman in a wheelchair had a meltdown a few weeks ago at his bar; Sam calmed her, got her into a cab, and paid her tab. She came back and left him this note with some money:
Atsa my boy.

This solitary time is a blessing. I went to the market this morning so the fridge is full of corn and peaches and beans - apples next week. After a battle with Rogers yesterday, the TV is fixed, I think. Many books to read. And three new, just picked cucumbers.

In the night - much awake time these days at 4 a.m - I realized what the biggest flaw of this new memoir is. Won't tell you, yet at least, but I know it. Which means I should be able to fix it in the next book. Stay tuned.

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