The Hard Work of Creativity

Writers understand the joy that comes from investing onesself in the creative process. In fact, that could be said of anyone who totally immerses himself in his work. Artists, inventors, performers, architects, teachers - the list is endless - know that hard work becomes FUN when they completely lose themselves in the process. These creative moments lift us out of the everyday into a zone where focus is fixed on a particular spot - a sentence on the computer screen or a ridge on a sculpture or a brushstroke on a canvas or a pencil line on a paper or the faces in a classroom. It is something we are driven to do.

But the work doesn't come without effort, discomfort, and sometimes pain (physical cramping, carpal tunnel, etc). Technically perfect work may not display greatness. The discomfort of doing and redoing, working and reworking, is what distinguishes quality from mediocrity. It is the fourth draft of a written work that is again revised into the fifth draft that may give the effort its finishing touches.

Dedication is not an easy thing to describe. It demands discipline and mental toughness. Sacrifices must be made to see a project through those finishing touches. I write because I love to express myself, and I think I have something worthwhile to pass on. It is a slow process, and must not be rushed.

I am not competing with a clock or with any other writers. I have plenty of time in my retirement years. Fortunately, I do not have to rely on the income (thank goodness!) to write. I am merely competing with myself. I want to leave something lasting during my lifetime.

I have no doubt I can go the extra mile and maintain a positive attitude while I produce better and better writing in my second book. The work is only one-third done and is far from perfect. Yet I know when the manuscript is finished, it is not finished. I will make extra, uncomfortable efforts at revision. It may mean the difference between being published again or remaining unpublished.

The Best Is Yet to Be!

Who knew what a fantastic summer this would be! Here in New England we had two spectacular months of sunshine - July and August - ranging in temperatures from eighty to one hundred degrees. Not great for the electric bills, since we never turned off the a.c. from July 4th weekend until mid-August, but for any outdoor plans, the weather never failed. Even the sixty-six-degree temperatures in Buzzard's Bay didn't cool us off some weeks.

Charley and I started the summer in June by exploring a different part of Italy we had never been to - Puglia. It is located on the heel of Italy's boot on the Adriatic, and we were not disappointed. There were olive groves as far as the eye could see, gorgeous sand beaches (both deserted and mobbed), converted farmhouse hotels that served locally-grown produce, and architectural wonders seen nowhere else in the world. Two examples of the latter were the beehive "trulli" homes, built of local limestone with slate roofs and never a nail or mortar. These dated from the 13th century. There was also a city of cave-like dwellings or "sassi" homes, dating from the Bronze Age. We topped off our stay in Italy by returning via hydrofoil to our favorite island of Ischia, in the Bay of Naples.

Following the annual July 4th parade, gathering at our beach, and cookout, our two new fraternal grandsons were born. They weighed six pounds four ounces and five pounds thirteen ounces each. Today, at seven weeks, they are both inching up on ten pounds. Charley and I are astounded by the miracle of TWO healthy births at once, following the succession of three healthy granddaughters' arrivals within the last five years. We have spent a total of ten days with the boys and their sister, and can't wait to return.

There has never been a happier time in our lives! Charley and I are still enjoying each other's company after forty-five years(!), active on the golf course and tennis courts, seeing old friends and making new ones, and ENJOYING each opportunity to have granddaughters jump into our arms in a pool or zoom over and over again into our arms down a slide, collect periwinkles with us at the beach, play miniature golf together, or put on singing and dancing performances any time the urge arises (which is frequently!). Although I have not accomplished as much writing on my next book as I'd hoped, what's more important than LIFE? Who knows what will happen next!!

Awaiting the News

We are expecting twin grandsons in N.J. sometime between now and early August. Our son (the expectant father) has told me to keep my phone charged and with me at all times. He is going down a list of "Things to do before the boys arrive," and is, understandably, edgy. So far it seems the list is getting accomplished: the upstairs floors have been refinished and walls painted, cribs are set up, baby clothes (received as gifts) are washed and put away, double stroller is on loan from a friend, car seats are installed in the new mini-van, his wife is registered at the hospital, and the doctor's appointments have gone by without incident. Each grandson is already five ++ pounds at thirty-five weeks.

Our daughter-in-law is calm and asserts she is still feeling reasonably comfortable, thanks to air-conditioning in the 90 to 100-degree temperatures they've been having. She is even going into the lab a couple of days a week.

We all have our assignments. The neighbor next door has agreed to take the two-and-one-half year old sister, who will be deposited there with the neighbor's four children when mom and dad take off for the hospital. The other grandma has the assignment to retrieve our granddaughter from the neighbor when she gets the call. She lives just fifty minutes away. "When will you see the boys?" I asked.

"When you arrive," she answered. Since we are six hours away, our assignment will be to notify those not yet given the call, then to hop in the car and begin driving. I asked our son if we could stay in a hotel near the hospital, since grandma #1 will be unpacked in the guest room. "We have made room for all of you!" was the answer. Fortunately, we get along famously with grandma #1, since we will be bonding closely.

We will visit briefly while mom and babies are in the hospital, then head home when they are released. Next assignment: to return indefinitely when grandma #1 wants some rest! We are on an alternating schedule for the remainder of the summer. With our son taking time off from work, there will be at least three of us to help while Charley and I are there. Fatigue will gradually diminish the excitement, I'm sure. But for now, we're all busy trying to stay busy!

Serenity

Since my husband and I will be travelling for several weeks, I thought I'd post a last-minute blog before signing off till the end of this month.

Over the Memorial Day Weekend, we had the entire family with us at the beach in Massachusetts. There were our two sons, our two daughters-in-law, three granddaughters, and two EXPECTED twin boys, due in early August.

The weather was idyllic - hot sun, with no humidity. Definitely beach weather, which is where we sat for two out of three days. In-between, of course, three little girls, ages five and under, sampled swingsets and slides, supplied the bird feeder and hosed the perennial beds, had LOTS of wagon rides in the yard while licking ice cream with sprinkles, and sat over-looking boats, sliding across the water, while we waited...and waited...and waited at a restaurant for our dinner.

One of our sons was getting over a sinus infection; a daughter-in-law had an ear infection; the other son and a granddaughter had chest coughs. Charley and I prayed we wouldn't get sick just before leaving for a college reunion and a European trip. All of that was forgotten in an instant.

The perfect moment - the moment that will be etched in my memory bank for a long, long time - was when three little girls all cooperated to build a sand castle, collecting rocks for windows and turrets, while their dads scooped the sand into buckets and their moms in beach chairs supervised, amid their chatting. This was the moment of serenity when I thought to myself, "Life can get no better than this!"

Reentry

We have finished our "snowbird" move from Florida to Massachusetts. The older we get, the more effort it takes! We will remain in Massachusetts for four months, but the transition has taken a week.

I am certainly not complaining!! We are among the fortunate ones to have two residences to enjoy, especially in this economy. We try to forget our age in the process.

But there are way too many boxes and suitcases to unpack from the SUV. I still have not learned to bring the minimal amount of clothes for each location. Charley (my husband) claims he is brought along simply to drive his shifts and to load and unload the car! The files, papers, folders, computer equipment, and everything related to my book sales took up half the space in the car and then we have to find locations for all of it once we arrive. Which means throwing out a lot of stuff I never look at, just to put the other stuff from the car away. The floors are littered.

Then there are the things that don't work when we walk in. This time, there was no hot water, no water pressure in the master shower, no cable, and the floodlight outside our bedroom kept going on and off all night. Oh yes, we also had (and still do) a running toilet. So we take turns waiting for the plumber, electrician, and cable guy.

Did I mention that my beloved husband of forty-five years (next month) left the trunk door up on the SUV as he drove it into the garage, after we had driven 1500 miles? And smashed the entire back window? And claimed it was NOT because he was tired? Mind you, this is MY car that I drive every day, but THANK GOODNESS it wasn't me pulling into the garage! There were tiny fragments of glass in every crevice of the car, all over the garage, and scattered out onto the driveway. We are still tracking them into the house. The windshield wiper was torn off and its motor disabled. The entire first afternoon after our arrival we spent with the dealer and insurance adjuster. Fortunately, we got a loaner and four days later (and almost $500 later, after deductible) I got my car back.

Summer is wonderful...truly!! I look at the green expanse of golf course leading down to Buzzard's Bay, and every time am convinced that I've never seen anything so beautiful. Not to mention that we are now just over an hour away from two of our adorable granddaughters! So now that the first week's reentry is over, I'll shut up and enjoy.

A Writer's Hardest Task

I am looking out the window of our Florida condo and seeing a glistening aqua pool that beckons. Since it is ninety-something degrees in early May, the beach is packed. I'm retired from the interior design business and from teaching high school. So what am I doing sitting at a computer instead of enjoying the Florida sunshine?

I am making myself sit here to work on some chapters on the new book I started. It is about my parents, who lived to be ninety and ninety-five, with sound minds and bodies. This memoir will reconstruct the last three months of each of their lives, the months when our roles reversed and I became the caregiver for all the surgeries, hospitalizations, rehab unit, and nursing homes.

But this memoir will also reconstruct some of the hilarious things my parents did...some of the idiosyncrasies that we as their kids used to make fun of, and are now repeating...some of the reasons we remember them so well and loved them so deeply, despite what happened during the last ninety days.

A writer's hardest task? To make myself sit down every day and produce something on the computer screen, despite the distractions and the temptations. I know that almost every job takes self-discipline, and being a writer most certainly does. It is the satisfaction of production that far outweighs lounging on the beach or swimming a few laps. Those relaxing moments come eventually, after I know I've put in a good morning/afternoon of work. Self-discipline comes after years of practice. I taught my classrooms of kids the tricks, and I taught our own kids. It's a great leveller, too, since a lot of people without superb talent have the self-discipline to work harder to even the playing field.

Bottom line? I love what I'm doing, so I don't mind putting in the effort and missing out on a few things. The product is definitely worth the sacrifice. In other words, put the butt on the seat, and make something happen!

Question Most Often Asked

I was recently honored to be on a panel in Cambridge, Mass., with our younger son Todd and Tom Brady, Sr., along with Nancy Brady (Patriot quarterback's father and sister). We had lots of things in common and the audience learned some insider stories about the famous quarterback and the support group that is his family. During the question and answer session, an audience member asked the question that I am most frequently asked after publishing MINOR LEAGUE MOM: A MOTHER'S JOURNEY THROUGH THE RED SOX FARM TEAMS(the story of Todd and his brother in the minor league system from rookie team through "AAA"). We were asked, "When did you know your sons were elite athletes?"

My answer is always the same. As a mom, you keep hoping that your kids have the skills to simply make the team at the next level! Never once did it cross our minds while they were growing up that they would enter the ranks of the pros. After all, we lived in a small town in Rhode Island, and although Tim and Todd were both on all-star baseball and ice-hockey teams, we had a rather small circle of comparison. Our goals athletically never looked beyond the team at the next higher level. Finally, when Tim and Todd were in college and playing intercollegiate ball, we had a more legitimate basis for comparison. At that point, when college coaches were telling us they might be good enough to play professionally, we listened. The major league scouts at the game were tracking them, but they were tracking a lot of other players, too.

Of course, we facilitated our sons' wishes to play at each new level. They attended baseball camp at the University of Maine and hockey camp at Providence College during the summers, and still played all-star baseball and hockey eleven months a year. When college coaches began recruiting them, we took them to a selection of schools to meet the coaches. It was instant like or dislike.

Tom Brady, Sr., agreed with me. He had no idea if Tom would ever continue to play after a disappointing freshman year in high school. Tom was the backup freshman quarterback in San Mateo, California. "Tommy rarely made it off the bench, never threw a touchdown, and his team never even won a game that season," he said. But Dad hired private coaches, sent him to camps, and produced a recruiting video so Tom, Jr., would earn a scholarship to the University of Michigan.

Tom, Jr., was in love with football, just like Tim and Todd loved baseball. Tom was a back-up quarterback at Michigan with big-league dreams. "You don't limit their horizons because of your horizons," Tom, Sr., told the audience. "We got our chance. Now they get their chance."

I added a P.S. to that story: have a back-up plan! In our home, education was the top priority. That was one of my jobs as a mom: to make sure they stayed focused on their studies. Our expectations as parents became their expectations. My other job was always to support their performance on the field, and not to criticize. There were coaches to do that.

In Tom Brady, Jr.'s, case, he probably won't need a back-up plan. But when the seven years of minor league ball were over, Tim and Todd did. By that time, Charley and I knew our kids were gifted athletes, but there were lots of other things they had gifts for, too.
...with thanks to Brooke deLench for her blog on MomsTeam.com