CALM A LA Delights Hundreds of Dems in Pittsfield, MA!!

By Claudia Ricci and Alyson Slutzky

It was an extraordinary experience all around last Saturday at the Colonial in Pittsfield! Hundreds turned out, thrilled to be part of this historic -- or was it HERstoric? -- event.

Naturally, Calm a la's supporters were out in force, but so too, were supporters of...oh, well, you know that other guy, the incredibly WEIRD one who is running for President as a Republican, along with his even WEIRDER Vice Presidential nominee, J.D. Vance, whose past (ridiculous) positions on women with cats etc are coming back to haunt him!

Once inside, we were instructed not to photograph Calm a la or any of the other participants: Former Governor Duvall Patrick, followed by U.S. Congressman Richie Neal, Massachusetts U.S. Senators Ed Markie and Elizabeth Warren, and historian Heather Cox Richardson. Oh, and there were a few musical luminaries as well: cellist Yo Yo Ma and classical pianist Emanuel Ax highlighted the entertainment. No less than Berkshire's own James Taylor also emerged and along with Yo Yo Ma and Ax, the threesome played and sang "Here Comes the Sun." What could be better?

Well, maybe when James’ wife and his son emerged and the whole Taylor family delighted the crowd with that goosebump-producing Taylor favorite: "Shower the people you love with love…”

OK, that's when CALM a LA came striding in from the wings of the magnificently restored Colonial, to the resounding applause of the crowd, applause that reverberated around the Colonial Theater, a treasured gem in the city of Pittsfield.

An avalanche of American flags were standing at attention right behind the Vice President and a huge Harris for President sign stood above the flags. Her podium boasted the Vice Presidential seal, of course, as well as the nearly invisible wings of a teleprompter.

Calm a la spoke for about a quarter of an hour, just enough to fire up the crowd even more than they were, with more cheering and applause. Interestingly, Calm a la was quite soft-spoken at the Colonial unlike the way she spoke in her Wisconsin speech which appeared on YouTube.

Speaking in Pittsfield, she went off script a bit, and I -- I being Alyson Slutzky, who as Chair of the Democratic Party in the Town of Egremont, MA, about 45 minutes south of Pittsfield -- had the distinct pleasure (and honor) of being in the crowd at the Colonial on Saturday! I liked the unscripted remarks best. What an incredible and distinct honor it was for me to hear the Vice President call for unity and a victory in November!

This exhilerating campaign event -- which had been planned BEFORE President Biden stepped down on Sunday, July 21st -- was expected to raise $400,000 but amazingly, the event raised $1.8 million! I had never been to an event like this before, and I will remember it for the rest of my life, as it was exciting beyond belief!

I just LOVED the way she spoke, because she speaks that way all the time. Her tough talk and her willingness to attack Trump (we will do everything possible to defeat that lying creep) reflect her many years being a Prosecutor, state Attorney General in California, U.S. Senator from California and finally, Vice President. She is so intelligent and so incisive and so powerful and she cuts through the BS and she makes me feel safe,

like she can really attack Trump in an effective way and defeat him in November!

Speaking for women and men across the nation, Alyson concluded: "I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my chest. And I hear other people say the same thing. I felt so incredibly hopeless for so long that Trump was definitely going to win. And now I feel like there is a really good that Kamala may pull this victory off!"

Slutzky says that she and others have been working tirelessly on behalf of the Democratic ticket, now headed by a woman. The work of Dems was given a huge shot in the arm by Calm a La's visit to Pittsfield.

Need we say more?

Claudia Ricci, PhD.,is a writer of fiction and non-fiction, taught English, creative writing and journalism at SUNY Albany and Georgetown University. Ricci began her writing career as a reporter for the Chicago Sun-Times, where she won numerous prizes, and later, as a staff writer for The Wall Street Journal. She has published four novels and is writing a fifth novel, called Finding Filomena, a fictional memoir about her great great grandmother, Filomena Scrivano, who delivered a baby -- her great grandfather Pasquale Orzo -- out of wedlock in 1870 in a small town in Calabria in southern Italy.

Alyson Slutzky is a Social Worker and Chair of the Egremont Democratic Committee, as well as Lead Organizer for Left Field, a Great Barrington area Swing Left/Indivible group. She and her husband, Richard, reside in Great Barrington, MA. Slutzky was able to secure tickets to be at the campaign event for Calm a La on Saturday, July 27, 2024.

CREATION STORY, a la CALM a la Harris

“On the first day, God created LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS. On the second, He created the sky. Dry land and plants were created on the third day. On the fourth day, God created the sun, the moon and the stars…

And on the First Day, Sunday, July 21, 2024, which happened to be a magnificent FIRST DAY day, a highly principled and very likable but aging statesman named Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.,

who had been President of THESE UN United States since January 20, 2021, posted a letter saying he would not be seeking reelection.

The 81-year-old incumbent, a gentleman and A TRUE STATESMAN, who cares for his country so enormously that he was willing to step away from the Highest Office in the Land, declared that he would step out of the race for the Democratic nomination for President. (Unlike, the DUMP, running as the Republican, who would never in a billion years do anything so unselfish.)

He, President Joseph Robinette Biden Jr., who grew up in Scranton, Pennsylvania, poor and stuttering ("it's remarkable, isn't it," he himself said, "that I could become President -- only in America!" He said that in a rather low key manner in a speech, sitting in his Oval Office.)

Anyway, Mr. Biden on the First Day quickly as in the same FIRST DAY endorsed for the Democratic nomination his Vice President,

a SHE, she she she she she a BLACK WOM/b/an

Vice President CALM a la Devi Harris, the FIRST BLACK WOMbAN VICE PRESIDENT OF THESE UN-UNITED STATES

AND IN SO throwing the nomination Calm a La's way, Thus began unfolding

A NEW CREATION MYTH, a PHENOMENA, of a distinctly female/feminist cast. Some Americans of course were/are/will not be happy about this, about her, perhaps one out of three Americans (or more) is downright AGHAST at the idea of a BLACK WOMbAN PRESIDENT. Some objectors immediately started in on social media harassing and haranguing HER

oh my what is with these WEIRDO's, berating and belittling her for being this and that, or doing this or that, or for NOT doing this or that, as in,

because she didn't from her own body birth children, and then, oh are they really seriously belittling her for her LAUGHTER?

Which would be a real laugh, except for the fact it isn't funny at ALL because there is running against Calm a La, the DUMP who is forever drooling filth, his trash heap knows no limits. And if there ever were a danger to our democracy, it is from HIM HIM HIM HIM HIM that will have no name except DUMP.

On the Second Day, Monday, July 22, 2024, a seemingly calm CALM A LA raised a STUNNING $250 MILLION in large and small donations, setting a record! Pundits here there and everywhere — as well as creeps in the OPPOSING PARTY, were almost SPEECHLESS -- but not quite because they are never speechless (on Fox or everywhere else they speak). They were already on the attack like drooling wolves with blood dripping from their fangs.

On the Third Day, Tuesday, July 23, 2024, Vice President Calm a la spoke from her new (President Biden’s OLD) Delaware headquarters and SHE gave her first campaign rally speech. Thanking her staff, she said: "In the days and weeks ahead, I, together with you, will do everything in my power to UNITE our Democratic Party, to UNITE our nation and to win this election."

And then she hurried out to Wisconsin, a battleground state, where she rallied thousands of exuberant Democrats, saying “The Baton is In Our Hands!”

On the Fourth Day, WEDNESDAY, July 24, 2024, speaking from the OVUM, no, excuse me,

the OVARY,

no, excuse me, the OVAL office, President Biden, that real statesmen as opposed to the

TRASH HEAP OF A DUMP WHO IS RUNNING AS A MAGGOT

STATESMAN BIDEN made it official official, after weeks of speculation, that he would formally said step away. “I have decided the best way forward is to pass the torch to a new generation. That is the best way to unite our nation…”

(Hey did any of you happen to notice that CALM a LA referred to the BATON IN OUR HANDS and Biden referred to the TORCH, and both of them are shaped…well, you know)

ALSO ON THE FOURTH DAY the dreaded opponents DARE I NAME THEM

of course they are MAGGOTS?

They were drooling, like I said, flashing and gnashing their razor sharp teeth, as opposed to their minds which are dull dull dull and full of shit,

They kept saying all manner of UGLY UNTRUE and also hilarious things about HER

CALM a La. My college roommate, Cathie M, who lives up in beautiful Maine, kindly sent this

Also on the Fourth Day, I learned that by some miracle, Calm a La would appear in Pittsfield, MA, the small Berkshire County city that is 45 minutes from my home in Massachusetts. OH CALM a la, how I hungered to go, but NO way all the tickets were long gone. And the event netted almost $2 million!

On the Fifth Day, The Berkshire Eagle

a fine newspaper based in Pittsfield, MA, heralded the donor event saying it would be grand and historic and it was, with people lining South Street waving signs in support of CALM A LA. These folks were sorely disappointed that Calm a La's 24-car motorcade scooted in the back door of the Colonial Theatre.

On the SIXTH Day, July 26, 2024, that being Friday,

Shabbat begins always on Friday nights in the Jewish faith. And so it is.

And so too did Presidential historian Heather Cox Richardson, who also attended the Pittsfield donor event, confirmed on THE SIXTH DAY something that I have dubbed the “CALM a LA Phenomena” it happened OVERNIGHT: “the national narrative as a whole has shifted,” Heather said, writing calmly in “Letters From an American.”

On the Seventh Day, I observed SHABBAT and did no posting. THANK THE GOOD LORD BECAUSE I a tad exhausted after all that writing!

Last week had to be, almost certainly was, right up there, ONE OF the MOST

no, perhaps the MOST HISTORIC

No, THE MOST HERSTORIC

weeks I have ever lived through! And I’m 71, I lived through Woodstock (and didn’t go!)

No matter what your faith, no matter whether you are a believer in God, may you believe in the NEW CREATION according to CALM a la,

and peace be with you! AMEN!

Chapter Four, "Dear Noah, How Do You Know What You Know?"

Chapter Four: “Noah, How Do You Know What You Know?”

The date of course doesn’t matter because time doesn’t exist, but for the sake of argument make the date July 3, 2024. That means it is today. This morning. But today and yesterday and tomorrow all of that can fall away.

Anyway, it dawned cool and bluebird clear and sunny like the sunflower, and the hummingbirds

are battling it out at the feeders and sucking at the beebalm.

This morning, I struck a deal with my son, who is visiting from Colorado.

I told Noah that I would make another attempt to read Journey of Souls, Case Studies of Life Between Lives, published exactly 30 years ago, a date which of course is meaningless. In return, he would read the new novel I am writing. I call it "Fi and Me," but really the title is "Finding Filomena." It's the true but made up story of my great great grandmother, Filomena Scrivano, who had a baby "OUT OF WEDLOCK" -- oh thank God that term is almost dead! -- in 1870 in Calabria in southern Italy.

Anyway it seemed like a good deal that I was proposing. Reasonable.

I’m not sure whether Noah has read any of my previous four novels. When I have asked him in the past, he has always smiled and said that his best friend Chris from college never read any of his mother’s novels either and well, hey, she was a really famous writer. Unlike me. :)

By the strangest coincidence, Chris recently purchased a home ten minutes down the road from us in the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts. He also owns an elegant apartment in Manhattan. So yes it does make a difference if you manage to sell your novels, like Anita Shreve did. (Sadly, she passed away from cancer in 2018 at the age of 71.)

Two days ago, my husband Richard and our dog Poco and Noah and I sat with Chris and his lovely wife and their son in Chris' backyard and out of the blue Chris turned to me and said he wants to plant a young sugar maple at one end of the yard in honor of his six-month old son. He asked me what I thought of sugar maples.

I was astonished, and I started to chuckle. Had Chris secretly read my first novel? :) “Oh well, I really really love sugar maple trees,” I said.

At which point Noah piped up and said, “My mom’s first novel is all about maple trees, it’s called "Dreaming Maples." That book, published in 2002, took me ONLY :) five years to complete -- during which time I dwelled in an imaginary sugarbush in Vermont with a group of aging women artists.

So maybe Noah does know my work.

But all this is really irrelevant, as in, IT'S NOT IMPORTANT.

What is important is that this morning he said to me, “Mom, you really should read 'Journey of Souls,' -- because I believe that you and I were souls together in previous lives.”

I blinked. I inhaled.

I know when my son is leveling with me. He is. Was. Completely serious about this.

“OK, honey. I’ll try again. But then you have to promise to read a few pages of this story that I am writing about your great great great grandmother Filomena Scrivano who gave birth to our venerable ancestor, your great great grandfather Pasquale Orzo, in southern Italy in 1870.”

So we made a pact and that morning, meaning this morning, he took the blue folder and started reading my story and instantly he made improvements in the opening paragraph. It's amazing what a good writer he is. But that is really not the point either.

The point is that suddenly I realized that Noah

is going to be part of the book that you are reading, because he is so immersed in thinking about past lives. For the past six or seven years, Noah has been informally studying with a rather remarkable healer in Longmont, Colorado, a wizard of a man that we all refer to as Dr. A. He is a functional medicine doctor.

Noah convinced both me and my husband and my daughter to see Dr. A (in person and via Zoom) and just as Noah promised, he has helped with a variety of difficult health issues. Part of his success comes from the fact that he often focuses on the emotional underpinnnings of illness. Dr. A is the person who introduced Noah to the book, "Journey of Souls."

Past lives is a subject that has long fascinated me. It figured in my third book, Sister Mysteries, which took me ONLY 23 years to write. It was a haunting story about my life as a nun, Sister Renata, in California in the late 1800s. I wasn't able to finish the novel until I underwent Past Life Regression Therapy with a practioner in New York City.

So yes, I have had at least one past life that I know of, living in a stucco convent tucked into a golden hillside, surrounded by bay trees, the sun blazing down on the old blue and white tiled courtyard. But still, reading "Journey of Souls" has been challenging for me. The book has been sitting on my nightstand for who knows how long.

So today I said to my son:

“The outer story I am trying to write honey is all about the soul… and maybe its journies. I realize that you are trying to teach me about the soul just the way you have taught me about so many other spiritual and health matters. So I am going to write about you in the book -- if that’s OK with you. “

He was sitting on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table. He was busy working on his laptop -- he is a consultant to solar energy developers around the U.S. The issues he works on are highly complex. He was, at the same time, listening to an audio by the famous spiritual leader, Ram Das. He told me he wasn't actually absorbing Ram's words. He just liked the sound of Ram's voice in the background. "It really relaxes me," he said.

How he manages to do two things at once I’m not sure but that’s not the point either.

He paused, and looking up at me. He smiled. “Cool, Mom, just be nice to me in the book, will you?”

Knees Burning, I Pray

The little black words

were kept in tiny boxes.

We each got our own box.

We made sentences.

The boxes were handed out each morning by the

teacher: a scary nun shrouded head to toe

in black.

How I loved the feel of those smooth little words beneath my fingers, each word contained in its own tiny rectangle of stiff paper.

Oh how I loved making SENTENCES!!!!

and oh I was so good at it.

I was so so so good.

see me there standing BESIDE THE VIRGIN MARY?

on the other side is

my cousin Lorry.

It was MAY,

MARY's month.

A bounty of flowers honors Our Lady.

I love(d)

Mary. I still do, pray to her.

You have no idea how good I was

at pressing my soft palms together in prayer.

But then there were those awful hot days in spring when the nun, that bitch, led us outdoors and told us to kneel down on the scorching asphalt the grit making my knees bleed. We needed to kneel in order to say the Stations of the Cross.

She didn't burn her knees, of course, only we first graders did.

WHY WOULD YOU MAKE A CHILD OF SIX KNEEL ON HOT ASPHALT WITH BARE KNEES? WHY WOULD THE CATHOLIC CHURCH HURT -- KILL -- SO MANY CHILDREN IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS? I will never understand this. PLEASE MARY I KNOW I shouldn't call the nun a bitch, I should pray to you instead, I say "Hail Mary, full of GRACE..."

BUT WAIT, Mary, I DON'T KNOW THE MEANING OF the word GRACE.

I opened the Oxford English dictionary this morning, the heavy one that my DAD and MOM gave me after I earned my Ph.D. in English, and sadly, it had no definition that I could feel in my fingertips or in my knees as I was kneeling in meditation on a soft pillow.

Dr. A says "Grace is love and acceptance amidst imperfection."

I close my eyes, hold my hands in a proper prayer position. I breathe.

I focus on

each

of

the

words

he

is

teaching

me.

Ragazza Pazza (Crazy Girl)

Mangia!

Non.

Per favore, mia cara ragazza, per favore, mangia un poco! (Please, my dear girl, please, eat a little!)

Non. Non voglio. (No. I don't want to.)

Ma perche? Che suchere ragazza cara? (But why? What's the matter dear girl?)

Non me piace mangare. (I don't like eating.)

Ah, ma e pazzesco! Per favore, mia cara ragazza pazza, piluccare un poco, per favore, prova! Per favore, prova a mangiare come quel dolce uccelino sull'albero.

(Ah but that's crazy! Please my dear crazy girl, nibble a little, please! Please try! Please, try to eat like that sweet little bird up there, singing in the tree.)

NON! Te l'ho detto che non i piace mangare! (No, I told you, I don't like eating.)

Ecco, prova questo, mangia questo uovo! (Here, try this, eat this egg!)

NON! Non voglio uovo! (No, I don't want egg.)

Ah! ragazza pazza! Almeno provalo, prova questo pane! (Ah, crazy girl! At least, try this, try this bread!)

NON, non voglio il pane! Lasciami solo! (No, I don't want bread. Just leave me alone!)

Non vuoi il pane? Per l'amor di Dio, e pane! Mangia quel dannato pane! (You don't want bread? For Christ's sake it's bread. Eat the goddamn bread!)

NON NON NON NON NON NON! Non voglio il tuo dannato uovo! Non voglio il tuo dannato pane! LASCIAMI SOLO! LASCIAMI IN PACE! LASCIMI IN PACE! (No No No No No No No! I don't want your damned egg! I don't want your damned bread! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME IN PEACE! LEAVE ME IN PEACE!)

VA BENE, STRONZA, ALLORA VAI AVANTI, MUORI DI FAME, PROPIO COME FACEVANO I TUOI DANNATO ANTENATI! (Fine, YOU BITCH, then go ahead, just starve, starve, just like your goddamn ancestors did!)

Come to Me Fi, Show Me the Way

I sit here, watching her. Waiting. Feeling so impatient that at some point, I begin squeezing my left hand, making a tight fist beneath the table.

I am trying hard to read her expression. But that face is a mask. It reveals so little.

What I am proposing, going forward, is rather novel.

No one has ever heard of a rescue like this before. Certainly, not where Filomena comes from.

And since it was my idea, or at least I think it was, it is only right that I give her the chance to weigh in.

“I know it might sound … a bit radical,” I said when we first sat down. “So…what do you think?”

Naturally, she can shoot the idea down. And then, if she does, what choice will I have? I certainly can’t force her to take the story in this direction.

Or can I?

More than anything I just want her to speak to me. Because I care so much what is going to happen. To her. And to all of the other women who, like her, fall in love and end up getting pregnant -- without being married.

But she just continues to sit there. Sipping her espresso in silence.

Which is really rather infuriating, because she is the one who insisted that I meet her. Again. Here at the stylish Café Gambrinus, in the

Piazza Plebescito in Naples.

Such a monumental space, the piazza. It’s the place where I fell in love with myself and my Italian heritage.

I am deeply grateful to Fi for all that. But she has me to thank too.

As I sit searching her proud face now, I realize that all along, I thought I was in control. But really, she has called the shots since day one.

Day one.

It isn’t every day that your great-great-grandmother arrives. In a vision that you cannot distinguish from reality. She asks you to tell her heart-wrenching story. And so of course you do. Or more accurately, she tells it.

Through you.

But now, as we close in on the ending, who’s in charge?

*** Note to reader: This is the an excerpt from my new novel, "Finding Filomena," the story of my great great grandmother, Filomena Scrivano, who had a baby, my great grandfather, out of wedlock -- OMG I am so glad that term is almost dead -- in 1870 in southern Italy. Filomena, like hundreds of thousands of Italian women, was forbidden to raise him. Most of the babies born to "UNWED" mothers died!! Miraculously, however, Pasquale Orzo, my great grandfather, survived. What or who saved him???? That is the mystery my novel will answer!!!!

I have NO idea where I am going but I have already arrived!

I am writing this morning with absolutely no idea where I am going. I am staring into the blue blue sky outside the window and I hear the birds making a joyful racket, filling the air with twills and chirps and bleating and the haunting cries of the red-shouldered hawk.

Is that the sweet song of a cardinal? a robin? a Baltimore Oriole? A song sparrow? a tufted titmouse?

I want to write the way the birds sing, out of a deep instinct or intuition!!!

Perhaps I should ask GOD for inspiration. I have already prayed to the Divine Feminine, otherwise known as the Virgin Mary.

Per favore, Madre Divina, posso per favore avere l'ispirazone per scrivere? Please Divine Mother may I please have inspiration to write?

After I finish praying, however, I am still left with the problem, HOW DO I BEGIN when I DO NOT/KNOT HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT OR WHERE OR HOW?

Perhaps I can just ask FILOMENA to COME TO ME,

Per favore, caro bis bis nonna, io parlo en italiano perche voglio

Please, dear great great grandma, I am speaking in Italian because I want to

I want to see you come alive again!

Voglio vederti riviere!

Perhaps you will come out of hiding if I do what I do sometimes when I paint by simply throwing paint on a white canvas!

Getto semplicemente la vernice su una tela bianca!

So perhaps if I just

throw black words on a white screen?

Lancia parole nere su uno schermo bianco?

I have seen you so often before, dear Filomena, first as a young girl in Paola, and San Lucido, with Giovanni,

and later in the Cafe Gambrinus in la Piazza Publica in Napoli where you were much older and you kindly met me for coffee.

But now I am not there and neither are you here. We are nowhere together.

Right now as I am writing without any idea where I am going, it feels impossible to position you and me anywhere!

I DO NOT SEE YOU!

NON TI VEDO!

I have to place you and me in one space and time, talking or somehow interacting but how????

JUST WRITE THE WAY YOU PAINT!

Propio come dipingi tu!

JUST PLAY WITH WORDS THE WAY YOU PLAY WITH COLORS!

Gioca con le parole nello stasso modo in cui giochi con i colori! Perhaps then I will SEE YOU Filomena! JUST THE WAY I SAW THE HEART IN THE CANVAS I PAINTED LAST WEEK!

*******

It is exactly 1:18 pm on May 9, 2024 and once again I am trying to jumpstart my writing the way I

jumpstarted the painting I did a few days ago.

I began with a scrap of paper, a tiny section of a Colorado hiking map that read "Closed Area," which for some reason made me a bit angry and that gave me sufficient energy to begin slapping paint on the canvas without any regard for what it looked like.

The assignment from the synagogue's creativity group was to do a new piece of art focused on the notion of "closure."

I didn't really want to do a NEW piece of art.

about closure.

But then I reread the Rabbi's words regarding there being no such thing as closure in the TORAH...his ideas resonated in my mind or was it my subconscious or was it my superconscious?

Anyway, he pointed out that the last word of Deuteronomy (which is the fifth and final chapter of the Hebrew Bible, the TORAH) is a LAMED. Immediately after that chapter ends, we take a breath and immediately begin reading the first word of the first chapter of the Bible, which is of course Genesis.

The first letter of Genesis is BEIT, which is the first letter of the word Breishith which means "In the beginning."

and together Lamed and Beit spell LEV,

which means HEART.

So when I was throwing paint on the canvas and suddenly out of nowhere I saw a HEART, I was

completely astonished!

And then I started seeing hearts all over the painting and then it became a collage!

AND THEN I WAS DELIGHTED I WAS DOING A NEW PIECE OF ART ABOUT CLOSURE.

*********

So perhaps something similar will happen here with my writing, as I am throwing words on the screen suddenly

I will FIND MYSELF WRITING A NEW CHAPTER ABOUT FILOMENA AT THE END OR IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS mishmash

Could it be a scene between Fi and Nunzi as they are helping other women to save their babies from the deadly ozpizias?

Could it be a scene between Fi and Nunzi as they try to share taking care of Pasquale?

I don't know if the jumpstarting process that works with painting also works with writing...

With paint you can proceed without any rational plan or idea

but don't you need an actual idea in order to write?

"Well no, Claudia, not necessarily, not if you are FREEWRITING."

[who said that?]

So officially now I AM FREEWRITING, but not exactly because with freewriting you just keep writing whatever s**** is in my/your head without stopping or without worrying about how stupid it sounds.

Freewriting would be perfectly wonderful, IF, as my writing buddy Peg once said, there were such a thing as "freepublishing."

But that is a diversion.

Just as I can sometimes fool around with colors until I discover a pattern or a design element that makes the whole painting come together,

perhaps I will also at the end or in the middle of this writing discover

I WOULD LOVE TO SIT WITH FILOMENA AGAIN.

[well then just DO IT!]

I would love just to catch a glimpse of her as she works with Nunzi, saving babies! When would this scene take place in relation to all the other chapters? How would I position it in the NARRATIVE TIME AND FLOW OF THE NOVEL?

Maybe it's just not the TIME to write that chapter. OR ANY OTHER CHAPTER!!!! Perhaps it is time to stare at that pair of tree swallows that have been hanging out on the lawn chair!

********

Last week, I brought my collage painting to synagogue to share it with the creativity group. During that session, the Rabbi, who happened to be holding the Torah in his arms as he spoke, said that the Jewish notion of TIME IS A SPIRAL. He didn't say anything else on that subject, and oddly, I couldn't find much of anything on-line. But what I think he means is that we Jews live six days each week and then on the seventh day we celebrate Shabbat, the holy day of rest. So around and around we go each week, being in our DOING mode for six days, and then in our BEING MODE on Shabbat.

This circularity is everywhere in nature, in the regular change of seasons. In the way the birds keeps coming back year after year. The Baltimore Oriole arrived a couple weeks ago, dining at the hummingbird feeder before I had a chance to hang the Oriole feeder

!

"The concept of time was created for humanity in Genesis 1:14-19. However, God is LOVE, spirit and light and there exists in/at the speed of light. According to Albert Einstein's "Theory of Relativity," at the speed of light THERE IS NO TIME, just eternity or infinity."

Just GOD?

*******

I like to picture Fi this way: wearing a long, graceful dress the color of tender spring dandelion leaves. The fabric is rare, a silk you can almost see through.

Giovanni has been dead for more than three years when she is wearing this dress.

Perhaps she will never wear this dress, except here in the garden of my mind, where the bright green leaves look like they have pure light glowing inside them. It is the kind of green seen here:

It glows, it is almost electric. And so hard to describe in words.

Once I wrote:

I thought I was done writing novels until that day in May when I arrived at the remote Tuscan villa at sunset. A vista poured out in front of me like an elegant green language that I absolutely knew I had to learn and get down on paper.

But then I erased that paragraph and subsituted this one:

There was a view once, like none I have ever seen. Gentle green hills extend to the horizon, hills planted with olive groves in one direction, and vineyards in the other. And beyond those hills lies the sea, azure blue in some moments and then at others, a sparkling lime green that you can see through.

It beckoned me, that view, that paragraph, and my eyes came to rest there.

*********

So now I see Filomena dressed in one of her unattractive sacks, it has no shape whatsoever, and she is bent over, a basket swinging from one arm. With her right hand she is picking tender young dandelion leaves. Her mother will cook this greenery in olive oil and garlic. During the springtime, Filomena and her mother eat dandelion greens as often as they can!

*******

HOW DO I RESOLVE THE CONTRADICTIONS IN MY LIFE, ie the fact that I am Jewish but that I continue to pray to the Virgin Mary? OK I will try to lay it out.

I believe that you can be more than one thing at a time in life. You can be Jewish, but you can also practice Buddhism, like renowned meditator teacher Jack Kornfield. You can be Jewish and Italian. (There are approximately 45,000 Jews who live in Italy.)

I practise Judaism and I know quite a bit about the TORAH.

But I also firmly believe in the power of the DIVINE FEMININE!

And when I need inspiration, I politely ask her for it. And when I am in a tight spot, I say Hail Mary's.

When I was ill with cancer in 2002 and 2003, I frequently prayed to the Virgin Mary, especially when I was suffering or terrified about what was going to happen. SHE ALWAYS ANSWERED MY PRAYERS...(there are posts about that Peg, should I resurrect them? OY!!!! LOL :)

Also, it is important to point out that worship of the Virgin Mary is considered a feminist practise! THE VIRGIN MARY IS WORSHIPPED BY INDIGENOUS POPULATIONS AND MANY MANY OTHER GROUPS AROUND THE WORLD. The Catholic Church, dominated by MEN, tried to erase the worship of the Virgin Mary. They failed!

I do not practise Catholicism! I am a feminist, like many of those who worship Mary! I am writing this novel about Fi in part to expose and to CONDEMN THE HORRIBLE PRACTISE OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN THE 18TH AND 19TH CENTURIES: CHURCH "FATHERS" TOOK HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF BABIES AWAY FROM THEIR MOTHERS (IN FI'S TIME AND BEFORE AND AFTER) STICKING THEM IN THE DEADLY OSPIZIAS, where wet nurses transmitted disease from one infant to another! MANY MANY MANY BABIES DIED!!!!

In the time and place where my great grandfather was born, Cosenza, ITALY, 1870, approximately 93 percent of so-called illegitimate babies died before their first birthdays!

IT IS A MIRACLE THAT MY GREAT GRANDFATHER SURVIVED! I am so so grateful to whoever it was who saved my great grandfather!

SONO COSI GRATO A CHIUNQUE SIA STATO A SALVARE IL MIO BISNONNO DALL'OSPIZIO!

*********

So maybe I have already written the chapter that I can't seem to write.

I mean maybe this is the chapter? Or is it? (I will have to consult my dearest friend and decades-long writing BUDDY, PM "Peg" Woods.)

Meanwhile, as I have been writing this blogpost, I discovered through a circuitous route, a chapter called "A Perfect V!" in which Fi is reflecting on her difficulties "sharing" Pasquale with Nunzi.

I posted "A Perfect V!" on February 17, 2023.

So, maybe the headline I wrote before starting this piece is true: "I have NO idea where I am going but I have already arrived there!" Or, "Non ho idea di dove sto andando, ma ci sono gia arrivato!"

I am now revising "A Perfect V." I believe it will appear as Chapter 34 of the novel in progress, called "Finding Filomena."

Isn't it curious that in a way I am writing the Fi story in a kind of spiral! I wrote several chapters early in 2023, and then in March of 2023, I wrote the "first" chapter, and then I wrote about 30 subsequent chapters, and now I am circling back to one of the very first chapters I wrote, a chapter which comes toward the end of the book!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: "Longing to Belong!"

One of the fears that has dominated my family is that you aren't "safe" if you stray too far away from...yes, the family -- la familigia! Italian American immigrants, like so many other immigrant groups, tended to cluster together, at least at first. My mom grew up in a small neighborhood populated by people she knew. So did my father.

When my father moved our family from the family hub in Bristol, Connecticut an hour and a half away into New York state, my brother and sister and I

felt a deep loss. I remember we moved the day before my 8th birthday.

On my birthday, I tried to run away. We had moved into a plain Cape Cod style house in a subdivision. Because my parents were financially strapped buying the house, the second floor wasn't finished off. The walls consisted of bare wooden two by fours, and in between, long layers of pink insulation. It was spooky!

I remember leaving by the back door that led out from the garage. I don't remember where I went, or how long I was gone. Try as I might, I don't remember anything more about that day except that I was upset. Angry. Confused. Needless to say, though, I returned before evening. I learned to live in the new house. Eventually, my dad put up sheet rock and finished off the two bedrooms for me and my siblings.

I'm thinking about that sad day in November of 1960 today, as my husband and I prepare to move back to our house in Massachusetts. For the last three months, we have been living in Denver, near our son, Noah, as well as our daughter, Lindsay, her husband, Geoff, and their precious little boy, Monte.

We've had a great stay. I've had the chance to babysit for my grandson several times. We have loved the weather, and have taken lots of wonderful hikes in beautiful places. There have been many days when I thought "oh heck we should just move here."

Ah, but then, just as soon as I think that, I remember: we have beloved family in Boston, and elsewhere back east, including our daughter Jocelyn, her husband, Evan, and our darling grandchildren, Ronen and Dani.

I feel torn apart. My heart aches when I think about leaving Monte and my children next week.

I keep telling myself to grow up and accept reality. I keep telling myself, "you know exactly what you should do: focus on being grateful for all of your blessings. Live mindfully, staying in the moment, appreciating the myriad joys that happen all through the day."

But part of me refuses to buy into what I know I need to do! This recalcitrant -- childish -- part of me is a persistent voice but also, sometimes it feels like a bodily sensation. It's almost as if my ancestors are all lurking somewhere, deep inside my brain, or they are out there in the cosmos calling to me: they are the angels who keep whispering in my ears. The message from these ancestors -- "questi antenati" -- is crystal clear: when you return to your house in Massachusetts, you will have no family living near you! You will go back to that feeling you often have there, that you are lonely, that you don't belong there! You will feel like you don't belong anywhere!

Before I know it, hearing these messages rumbling around in my mind, I feel incredibly sad. This longing for family upends me completely and sometimes I find myself in tears!

And so it is that I am captive of a very old family script, one that says you aren't safe or happy or complete when you don't live next door to your loved ones.

Back when I was 8 years old, my parents and siblings and I drove from our house in New York State to Connecticut to see our grandparents. We did that almost every weekend! It never occurred to us not to! For one thing, my mom missed her mother and father. And we kids missed our grandparents.

By the time I went off to college, however, I was delighted to get away from home, escaping what felt like a stifling (and old-fashioned) family environment. Over the next few years, I traveled here, there and everywhere. I worked in Boston, then went to graduate school in Berkeley, California. Then I worked in Chicago, and after that, New York. At one point, my mother counted 21 different addresses for me.

Not too long after I married my husband Richard in 1978, we both decided that we wanted to move back East so that our (future) children would know their grandparents.

After some 15 years of moving here there and everywhere, I settled with my husband in an old farmhouse in rural Columbia County, New York -- ironically, it was only an hour away from my parents and the home where I grew up. Rich and I lived in that farmhouse,

and raised three children there, for the next 30 years!

As our children left for college and set up their own lives, one thing became clear: none of the kids intended to live close to our old farmhouse. All three of them eshewed the rural lifestyle in favor of city life.

Like so many families, we are spread out.

Do other people feel the way I do? Do they feel lonely, and like they don't belong anywhere? Or is it just me? Is it because of my ancestry that I feel so...disconnected?

My rational side keeps trying to convince me that there is only one solution: stay riveted in the present moment, no matter where you find yourself! Accept what is. And don't give into the longings that characterized your ancestors.

Yes, yes, I know all that. But now that I am a grandparent I want to live close to my grandchildren, just like my parents and grandparents did before me!

Curiously, my sister Holly and I were talking about our family situation recently. She lives in the same Massachusetts town as our sister Karen, Karen's husband Dale, as well as Karen's daughter, Lauren and her family (including two adorable little ones, Lily and Scarlett.)

Even though Holly lives close to these family members, she confided that she too often feels lonely. She finds herself asking "what am I doing here?"

We decided that the last time we didn't feel that loneliness was when our Mom and Dad were still alive, and they occupied their cozy brick house in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. We can't let go of our desire to gather at that house, the way we used to for all the holidays.

As I add this photo of Mom and me in her Pittsfield kitchen, Christmas of 2010, I can't hold back tears. Recently, I told someone in a condolence card that I don't think I will ever stop missing my mother.

*******

I stepped away from writing this piece a few minutes ago because Noah arrived; he was having dinner with us here in Denver, as he has several times since we arrived in January.

We eat fried fish, baked sweet potatoes and bok choy, and we watch part of a movie. Then Noah says it's time for him to leave.

"When will I see you again?" he asks, just before he drives off in his truck.

"Not sure," I say. I mumble something about maybe seeing him for his birthday in June. I'm feeling fine when I go to bed but the next morning, I find myself missing him. And feeling...lonely. Ugh.

That's when I hear my mom, who passed away in 2015, reminding me that for so many years, she and my dad were constantly looking forward to the next time that they would see us kids.

I didn't really get it in those days. I was busy with my work, my writing, the kids, and our lives separate from our parents.

"In those days, we missed you all the time," Mom is saying, "just the way you are missing your own kids. Now you see what your dad and I went through. You know the old saying, 'what goes around comes around!'"

*******

So what does all of this loneliness have to do with healing?

Everything. As medical anthropologist and modern shaman Alberto Villoldo says, "The mind can heal you or it can kill you."

The brain serves up stories of all kinds, some of them as old as time, like this story supplied by my ancestors -- the intense need/desire to live physically close to one another.

After my grandfather Claude, my mother's father, left Italy in 1896, at the age of 16, he never saw his mother again. He and his brothers settled in Connecticut, where I was born. Back in Italy, his mother, Domenica Rotondo, wailed continually about how she had been abandoned by her sons. Her daughter, Lauretta, who remained in Italy, visited her mother every Sunday; for years, Lauretta listened to her mother moan about her sons' leaving; Domenica earned the nickname "abandonada" for herself, abandonada meaning the "abandoned one."

Dr. Villoldo would say that this story of abandonment is one that has trickled down through the generations, landing in me. In therapy through the years I have repeatedly identified my own tendency to feel abandoned -- there was my mother who "abandoned" me at the age of four when she was too sick to take care of me.

There was the abandonment I suffered when two of my children moved to Colorado.

There is the feeling of abandonment I can feel whenever I say goodbye to my children.

Dr. Villoldo would say that this story of abandonment doesn't serve me. He would tell me that it is part of a limiting belief system, an old-fashioned world view all tied up with fear that is not at all useful or healty.

I need to tell a new story, he would say, one that will empower me spiritually and psychologically. One that will take me out of the worn out belief systems of my ancestors, one that can propel me confidently into the future.

Villoldo would say that in order to be happy and healthy, we must deal with all of the fear and anxiety we have. For me, it's accepting the reality that I can't possibly be in two places at once. I am bound to miss one set of children or grandchildren, no matter if I live in the East, or out here in the West.

We must accept these facts of life. We must face the fact that things continue to change. People move around. Kids grow up. We get older and we lose loved ones.

It helps too to think about what my spiritually-minded therapist Mary always used to say: you carry your loved ones in your heart all the time, including the ones who have passed on. To get in touch with them, all you need to do is close your eyes and feel the love you have for them, and the love they have for you! Concentrate on that love, and let the glow keep growing until it envelopes you completely.

Mary is a big believer in unconditional self-love, too. Whenever I would complain that I was missing my children or grandchildren, she would tell me that I needed to "love myself more," that is, I needed to immerse myself deeper in positive feelings towards myself. Part of that involves immersing myself in activities that bring joy and fulfillment to me as an individual. Don't give into feelings (or stories) of loss, scarcity or insecurity, she would say. In this way, she echoes Dr. Villoldo.

*********

There are on average 300 sunny

days a year in Denver. Combine that with the steady inspiration offered by the Colorado mountains and well, it feeds my soul. It feeds my painting muse as well.

No matter if there is a huge snowstorm one day. The next day, or the day after, all the ice and snow in the streets is GONE!

"It just keeps being sunny."

That'a the sentence that popped into my head just now. So often back East, the day begins bright and sunny but by afternoon, grey clouds move in.

Not here. It just keeps being sunny. All day. And that keeps me sunny too! Living here has been given me the strength and inspiration I need to challenge my ancestors' stories. It's as if a giant lamp has been turned on, illuminating my life fears.

Hiking and walking every day are part of the Denver equation too. The more I walk and hike, the more I want to walk and hike. I remember a time not too long ago when Rich would suggest we take a hike and often my reaction was, "oh, what, that again? You mean I have to huff and puff my way up another hill or mountain?"

But I don't have that reaction anymore.

I know that the more I walk, the better I feel.

*********

Ironically, the clouds have moved in this morning. I have to laugh -- it's almost as if I'm getting a taste of the weather I have to face next week.

Oh well. A couple hours ago, after meditating, I wrote down the word "ACCEPTANCE" in large letters in my journal. And then I wrote down the Italian translation: "Accettazione."

Enough. Time to grow up. And now, go for a walk.

p.s. OK, so I thought I was done. But as I was finishing writing this piece, feeling so sad, I asked my mom to send me a sign.

Well, I'm not sure Mom is responsible, but the next thing I know I am staring at this photo in my iphone: four generations of women!

Me on the left, 33 years old, (pregnant with daughter Lindsay), then Jocelyn, almost two, Grandma Michelina, age 85, and my Mom, age 60. We are sitting in Grandma Mish's living room, in front of a painting (done by my Aunt Marcella) of Grandma's ancestral village in Italy. This photo, almost 40 years old, is one of my all-time favorites. I will get a print out and add it to those I keep by my meditation space. And then this photo pops up on the iphone: Jocelyn's daughter, Dani, looking so much like her mom.

Looking at these photos, I'm smiling thinking, OK, so I do belong somewhere. I belong here, in this cozy line of women. I see myself becoming...one of a long line of ancestors!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: "HERE NOW THE MOST BASIC FEAR OF ALL: THE EVIL EYE!!!!!"

That last chapter was supposed to take care of fear. Ha! If only it were that easy.

Just as I finished writing Chapter Thirteen, I realized that I hadn't finished discussing fear. This morning it came back with a vengeance. Which is ironic, because after writing the last chapter, where I talked about all the ways that I take care of myself each day, I was feeling, well, quite good. And even, proud of myself.

Ah, but that's exactly when the guilt, and the fear flared up.

In my ancestral family script, which was laced with superstition, and low self-esteem, it wasn't safe or polite to talk about how good you feel or how happy or successful or healthy or attractive you are. Why?

On the surface, it's because nobody ever wanted to be accused of showing off.

But there are deeper explanations. By bragging, you tempt fate; who knows when your luck might run out, turning your otherwise happy life upside down. You might feel like you're on top of the world one day, but then you are almost certain to go into a slide. Then what? You end up so so embarrassed!

Superstitious thinking like this suggests that somehow you have to pay back for whatever good fortune you enjoy by facing a downslide.

But there is another explanation. You don't want to brag because you don't want to take the chance that you stir up jealousy in another person; if you do, you run the risk of invoking the "evil eye," known in Italian as "mal'occhio." In other words, someone seeing your bounty of success or riches might become so jealous they could intentionally OR unintentionally level a curse on you!

It's not like anyone sat me down and explained these "principles;" no one said to me, "Claudia you better be on guard for someone else's evil intentions."

But I am certainly the product of that miserably superstitious

(and paranoid) way of thinking. How often has my husband said to me that I should feel good about my achievements; that I should share my good feelings and do more to promote my accomplishments. When I do promote myself, I feel discomfort. I feel like I should apologize for feeling good about myself. And I do have anxiety that someone might be jealous of me. My instinct is to be apologetic, just to be on the safe side.

As I have been sitting here writing and thinking about mal'occhio, I have begun to feel fearful. So I decide to waste a little time by doing some internet "research." Specifically, I go to Google and call up "the evil eye," and lo and behold,

what I discover is that Italians are hardly the only ethnic group that grapples with fear of the evil eye.

According to an article in The Washington Post, "the evil eye symbol has been found through thousands of years of history across cultures, including in Latin America and parts of Asia. The symbol, most often depicted as four concentric circles in the shape of an eye, is used to ward off variations of evil intentions."

In Italy it's the "mal'occhio."

In Spain, it's called "el ojo maligno."

In Yiddish, people say "kinehora," which consists of the words “kein ayin hara,” -- that translates into "no evil eye."

In Greek, it's κακό μάτι or simply μάτι (mati), or "eye".

In Turkish and Arabic, it's "nazar," or sight.

In Chinese, the pictograph for the evil eye looks like this:

惡魔之眼

Wikipedia informs me that "The belief in the evil eye among humans has existed since prehistory, and amulets to protect against it have been found from dating to about 5,000 years ago."

Brittanica says: "Those most often accused of casting the evil eye include strangers, malformed individuals, childless women, and old women." Lovely.

And in another account I learn that the skill in being able to ward off the evil eye is one that is traditionally handed down from mother to daughter.

It's not entirely clear why the eye possesses so much power. But historically, even the Bible contains references to it: According to Luke 11:34, "Your eye is the lamp of your body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body is full of light; but if it is not healthy, your body is full of darkness."

OK, so now I am sitting here thinking, it's about time I write about this. It's about time I LEARN about this. Most important, it's time I figure out if I can FREE MYSELF FROM THIS FEAR!!!!! But how can I possibly expunge something from my psyche that has been embedded since ancient times?

Pardon me while I do some more reading.

**********

What most astonishes me is that I never realized how primal this belief system is/was. It is for all intents and purposes comparable to a Jungian archetype. I certainly saw evidence of this when we visited Greece, where the blue and white circular amulets that ostensibly protect you against the evil eye

appeared everywhere we went. And in southern Italy, the horn known as the "cornicello" -- it looks like a small chili -- hangs on a necklace around the necks of so many many Italians.

I pause now to write in Italian:

"Please help me not be afraid of the evil eye!"

"Per favore aiutami a non aver paura del malocchio!"

There are tests for the evil eye, and one of the most common involves olive oil. You fill a glass or a shallow dish with water. Then you place a drop of olive oil on the surface of the water.

If the oil floats, there is no evil eye. Ah but if the oil sinks, that constitutes evidence of the evil eye. Or, a variation: if you put two drops of oil on the water, and they remain separate, there is no evil eye. But if they merge, bam, bad luck is headed your way. Other rituals involve ordinary table salt.

When I write this down, the absolute silliness of it all hits me. Still, my mother used to tell me that her own mother, my Grandma Mish, subscribed to the superstition of mal'ochio. Apparently, Italians relied on the evil eye to explain all manner of bad fortune.

No one ever performed an evil eye test in my presence, and yet I do believe that the superstitions and fear have lived on in my family. And while there are superstitious rituals and prayers for removing the evil eye, I am not interested in any of them. I am interested in ridding myself of any lingering fear.

I turn to Google once more, asking, how do I release any fear I might have associated with the evil eye?

Wildly enough, I get a very good answer from Quora, which is a question and answer platform. Yes, the answer appears to come from a BOT!

Question: How can I live without fear of the evil eye?

"It's understandable to feel anxious about the possibility of others being jealous or wishing you harm, but it's important to remember that superstitions like the 'evil eye' have no scientific basis. It's unlikely that someone's negative thoughts or feelings can actually cause harm to you. If you find that you're still feeling anxious about this, there are some things you can do to help ease your worries. One thing you might try is focusing on positive affirmations and surrounding yourself with supportive people who genuinely want to see you succeed. It can also be helpful to practice mindfulness and meditation to help calm your mind and reduce stress. Ultimately, it's important to remember that you are in control of your own thoughts and feelings. Don't let superstitions or the actions of others dictate how you feel about your own successes and happiness."

Not bad for a bot. Not bad at all.

The bot offers more information and so, I accept. Here is what the bot -- called POE AI -- writes:

"Here are a few additional points to consider:

"Recognize the power of perception: Sometimes, our own beliefs and fears can influence how we interpret the actions of others. It's possible that what you perceive as jealousy or ill intentions may be a result of your own worries. Try to approach situations with a more balanced perspective and consider alternative explanations for people's behaviors.

"Focus on self-confidence: Building self-confidence and a strong sense of self-worth can help protect you from the opinions and actions of others. When you are secure in your own abilities and accomplishments, you are less likely to be affected by external negativity. Work on developing your skills, setting and achieving goals, and celebrating your own successes.

"Surround yourself with positivity: Surrounding yourself with supportive and positive people can make a significant difference in your overall well-being. Seek out friends, family members, or mentors who genuinely want to see you succeed and who can provide encouragement and constructive feedback. Positive influences can help counterbalance any negative energies you may encounter.

"Practice gratitude and mindfulness: Cultivating a practice of gratitude and mindfulness can help you stay grounded and focused on the present moment. By appreciating what you have and being mindful of your thoughts and emotions, you can reduce anxiety and worry about the opinions of others. Engaging in activities such as meditation, journaling, or deep breathing exercises can be beneficial.

"Protect your energy: Pay attention to your own energy levels and emotional well-being. If you feel drained or depleted after interactions with certain individuals, it may be helpful to set boundaries or distance yourself from them. Surround yourself with positivity and engage in activities that bring you joy and fulfillment.

"Remember, while it's natural to want the support and approval of others, it's important to prioritize your own happiness and well-being. By building your inner strength and focusing on positive aspects of your life, you can live without fear of the so-called "evil eye."

Hmmmm. POE makes good points. I guess after reading them, I feel less fearful about the "evil eye."

But I think I feel a little more fearful about the power of AI!