Women Over 30, Step Aside, Please….

       Yeah, I get the picture. But the Universal Law of Youth and Beauty in our society is changing.  However, maybe someone needs to tell the publishing world.  Compelling stories of women aging way past the deadline are popping their stubborn heads up with more force now than ever.  The current movie marquees say it all.  “Still Alice,” an award-winning tale about dementia with the ever-formidable Julianne Moore, age 54 .  “Cake,” with the eternal girl next door, Jennifer Aniston, 46.  And, God bless her, Meryl Streep, “Into the Woods.”  Meryl Streep is 65.

 

So my little sis Amanda, who is now 44, has just burst upon the literary world with her first book, THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN, a true story she co-authored with me.  A Memoir with Moi.  The story is special not only because Amanda has Down syndrome, but because it is injected throughout with her slapstick, underestimated flair for comic genius.  Despite losing both her parents, and subsequent horrific treatment by some of her siblings, she maintains a dignity that surpasses everyone else in the story, including myself.



We self-published the effort at end November 2014, and have received an overwhelming positive response from readers.  But our venture into mainstream publishing isn’t panning out the way we hoped.  Among the slew of publishers we have contacted, only one responded so far.  They told us that parents of people with disabilities want to read stories about babies, not people in our age group.  Since then, I am hearing from other sources that the publishing world doesn’t generally acknowledge stories about women over 30.

I knew our story would be an important message to families of people with disabilities, and maybe to families in general.  But I never anticipated having to lobby for the cause of the still-useful, still-significant Middle Aged Woman.  Jeesh, folks, really?  Haven’t we evolved father than this?



Whomever made the rule that a woman’s life ends at 30 needs to take another look.  We’re just getting started.

A Blog About a Blog About a Book

Once in awhile you just nail it right smack on the ol' noggin.  These moments are rare and wonderful and they must be savored.

Today, that happened for me.  It's possible that Jisun Lee is a lot more savvy than I am, and probably better at self-expression, and that might be why it seems to me as so miraculous.  But there is perhaps no greater satisfaction than knowing your message has been heard and understood.

So, okay, in a nutshell: Jisun writes this wonderful blog called, "Kimche Latkes" about life with four small children, the youngest of whom has Down syndrome.  It's not that her life isn't already full and chronically busy, but she also manages to maintain this eloquent, funny and friendly blog in the meantime.

Before I was aware that she had FOUR children, I approached her about reviewing THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN.  The reason I approached her was because I adored her style and thought she would be jokey enough to appreciate mine.  Had I known about the four kids, I may have taken pity on her and gone somewhere else.

Lucky for me, I landed in the right spot.  Jisun not only read my story, but she digested it and came back with some meaningful conversation, some empathic statements, and she really reached out to me.  I feel like I've made a new friend.

Meanwhile, it took her some time to come up with a review.  I actually didn't care; I figured she would get to it one day, and even if she didn't, she was so delightful that it would have not mattered.

Well, the review appeared today:  A masterpiece; ten long paragraphs in which she agonized over our story and gave real thought to how it might apply to her own life.   "I found the book resonated personally with me at every turn," she wrote.  "I know that until I read the book, my main concerns were of the outside world, strangers who may not respect or understand my son, but now I realize that I may be missing something crucial that is right under my nose."

This is exactly the reason for telling our story: To raise awareness of what 'might' happen, right under your nose.  It is so gratifying to be heard, to feel as if you might be able to make a difference.  Even just a little.

I Still Have One Wish to Make; A Special One For You

It's my understanding that most people who train horses for therapy work use minis.  It makes perfect sense -- it has to be so much more convenient to haul a mini around.  But I have long been interested in having my horse Clifford work with people with special needs.

In this regard, I'm lucky to have a friend like Beth Duman.  A biologist and behaviorist who specializes in the study of wolves (Could it be any more ironic that she lives in Howell, Michigan?), she has now been instrumental in helping two of my dreams to come true.

1)  To meet a live wolf up close and personal.  (Which happened several years ago when she was lecturing at Wolf Park in Battleground, IN)

and 2)  To have my  horse, Clifford, do therapy for people with disabilities, specifically people with autism.

Beth has been volunteering with her dog Lacey for about 7 years at Pathway School in Howell.  All I had to do was mention to her in passing that I was trying to get Clifford into a facility for the disabled, and she said, "I might be able to help you with  that."

"Just one moment!  I have to pose for my paparazzi!"

A week later, Clifford was walking through the door of the school, where we were greeted by an excited bevy of staff with cameras.  Clifford, as is his wont, stopped and posed right inside the door as soon as he saw all the cell phones aimed at him.  A bigger equine ham, there never was.

Then we marched down the hallway into the classroom, where we greeted group after group of kids from a variety of different classes.  Clifford was in his element.  We began each brief session by allowing him to walk up to each student, just like he does in the library.  It was the same type of greeting.  If the child shied away, he simply moved along to the next one.  These kids, however, were different and he seemed to immediately pick up on this.  Many of them were in wheelchairs.  Every time I have ever seen him around a wheelchair, he goes right for the person's legs.

He did that again today -- nuzzling and touching them gently.  He blew softly in one little boy's hair.  He touched another's fingers.  Some of the kids were non-responsive, and with those, he paused a little longer until he got some kind of reaction.  If they seemed fearful, he moved away.  His manner was completely gentle and kind.

One of the teachers asked me, "Did you teach him to do this?"

I shook my head.  "This is all him."

All I did was stand back and let the lead rope play out.  As Clifford approached each child, the staff members would say the child's name, enthusiastically, in unison, excited and laughing.

Clifford painted a couple of pictures and did some tricks for the kids, but the heart of the visit really seemed to be the close contact.  One girl ran through the door and grabbed him in a big hug.  He took it all in stride. He crunched candy canes and made cordial nose touches with Lacey.

It became obvious to me that the teachers were very emotionally invested in these kids.  They laughed.  They cried.  They took pictures.  Beth told me that there were things happening, remarkable things, with some of the children, but of course I had no way of knowing what they were.  I was just letting Clifford work his magic.  I hope to find out more later, about our impact on the school.

After about an hour and a half, Clifford had made contact with some fifty or sixty kids.  We were ready to wrap it up.  We loaded him back into the trailer and headed home, driving through the slush and sleet.  We stopped at his favorite store, Tractor Supply, and went in to get him a bag of grain.  He came into the store with us.  I walked him back to the service desk, to meet with the manager about a potential book signing there.  While we discussed it, Clifford revealed TSC as his virtual "home" by falling asleep standing next to me!

It was a good day.  Merry Christmas Clifford.  Thanks for all you do.