It’s 6:38 AM and I’m making my kids’ lunches and staring out my kitchen window mindlessly at the valley below, when this light – this incandescent neon green light – catches my eye low on the horizon. The light gets larger and travels east. It’s a meteorite, my groggy mind realizes, a flipping meteorite, shooting across the morning sky.
Quickly I turn to search for my phone because I have to get this on video, right? Because it’s nothing if it’s not on video. But no, I can’t find my phone and even if I could, who was I kidding? There’s no way my middle-aged fingers could have managed to get my video camera on, and capture this thing.
So instead I turn back and watch and just take it in, all the while feeling guilty that I’m witnessing this magnificent sight all-alone. The streak moved across the sky, grew larger, and then turned into a ball – a big, freaking green ball with flames coming off the edges! Then, just like that, it burns up and it’s gone. Continue reading
Here’s a humor piece I wrote that was in the Feb/March issue of Working Mother Magazine. I wrote it last year when I was trying to talk to my daughter while editing the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction ceremony. Now, I’m in the edit bay on another Rock and Roll Hall of Fame show! Oh, and my daughter thinks she should get half of the money I earned for selling the article.
When my daughter started high school this year I made a vow to not be one of those parents – the type who micromanage every detail of their child’s life while on a perpetual quest to get them into “the” best college. I decided this was the time for me to back off a bit, to still monitor my daughter’s activities but give more latitude to let her make her own decisions and possibly, her own mistakes.
It’s been harder than I thought it would be however, because I’ve felt like I’ve been missing out on the little details of my daughter’s life. So I was very excited the other day when I made this discovery: I learned that if I don’t break the parental fourth wall I can find out all I wanted to know about my daughter’s day.
The fourth wall is a theatre term for that imaginary line that separates the stage from the audience. As any good actor knows, if you acknowledge your audience, you ruin the magic of the play. Likewise, I discovered that when I drive my daughter and her two teenage friends in carpool, I could be privy to their discussions as long as I kept my mouth shut. Somehow, my silence makes me virtually invisible, and that’s when the good stuff happens.
As I drive home each day, I am treated to discussions about their teachers, their grades and sometimes even their accomplishments. (Why didn’t my daughter tell me her art was on display in the library?) Continue reading