Yesterday, my husband and I were honored to escort my parents to the reunion of Fairfield University’s “pioneer ” class of 1951. Dad, eighty-nine years young, had been history professor to the fifty or so men attending. And yesterday, from morning greetings in the sun until goodbyes long after dark, he still was.
From his “carriage,” as he refers to the wheelchair by which he spun from table to table greeting “my boys,” he held forth once more. Time, it seemed, had bowed and looked away for the day as he regaled, encouraged, inspired, and taught (as he always has), by example. His boys responded with gratitude, affection, boisterousness, and love.
Thank you to those at Fairfield who made sure to bring him back. The day was a gift. And his story, his history, now rings more vividly than ever in his oldest daughter’s imagination.
9.1.1. occurred in concert with my beloved Zia Pasqualina’s crashing descent into Alzheimer’s.
“Before Alzheimer’s she would have joined our neighbors to bring food for New Yorkers to the local firehouse, called her former colleagues to check on their daughters and sons, visited Ground Zero, seen a Broadway show on principle, remembered Father Judge, the heroes who brought down the plane in Pennsylvania, cried for the children left and the folks who used their cell phones to say ‘I love you’ one last time. But she cannot. I write about her so my own nieces and newphews will know that she was a woman of compassion and tenderness who did not become cynical when hardships tested her, who could always place herself in somone else’s shoes, who would mourn and pray for all persons affected by the two planes crashing into the Twin Towers.
Her inability to do so burns as steadily in my mind as the smoky gap in the New York skyline, its former shape most vividly realized only after it has disappeared.”
Articles abound online and in hard copy, from local newspapers to glossy magazines about changes in the publishing process. Some folks without portfolio (neither previous books nor literary agents to tout them) are making news and, sometimes, even money after uploading their works, complete with ISBNs, and selling them online. On the other hand, some already-agented and published authors are running into roadblocks at publishing houses when the marketing teams reject all books but potential blockbusters (read “bottom line”).
A number of friends, avid readers all, extol the virtues of Kindle and Nook. Still others hunger for the continued feel of paper pages turning in hand.
Right now, I’m struggling to decide whether or not to upload some work myself. Doing the “homework” and considering pros and cons will determine my decision in the coming weeks. I look to this blog’s readers for advice from your respective points of view.
How are you reading now?
Would you be interested in excerpted chapters of a novel popping up on a website every week?
Or would you prefer the entire book at once? Other thoughts?
You can reach me here, where I sit before a brightly-lit computer screen in a jewel-box of an office surrounded by well-loved books.
I’m eager to hear from you. And thanks in advance for your insights.
I love researching, especially all matters Venetian.
So immersed have I been looking for and finding information about the island of Poveglia and plagues in Renaissance Venice that I have not blogged in days.
I have, however, decided that recently-completed THIRST, a novel of 1613 Venice, will be joined by two other works of historical fiction, one to be set in the fourteenth century, the second much closer to contemporary times.
Stay tuned for updates about la Serenissima, that watery city of never-ending fascination, history, intrigue, beauty, and secrets.
Ciao for now.