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A family gathering in my grandparent's backyard. My Aunt Jean is 2nd from left. Uncle John is taking the picture. (Oh, and I'm the little squirt on the right)


My 94-year-old uncle died on Feb. 20. My aunt died twelve days later. She was 90. They were a remarkable couple. Uncle John was my dad's brother―the middle child among three sons. My Aunt Jean and he spent much of their adult years in Chicago.

Although life was good, not long after they were married, Jean was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis; a potentially devastating disease, especially for a young mother raising three young children. But, it didn't stop either of them. My uncle set out to get her the best care possible, and she faithfully exercised (swimming daily) through the pain. It was years before she was forced to give up her cane for a walker and eventually, a wheel chair.

Still, they took all life had to offer; traveling the world and, after retirement, moving to California to build their dream house, complete with amazing ocean view. Their time in the new home would be short-lived, however, when my aunt began to deteriorate and had to move into a complete care facility. My uncle visited her every day until his failing health prevented it. But, whenever possible he still took her to church and out to dinner on Sundays.

The completion of their journey begins and ends in early February when my aunt, whose 65-year struggle with MS finally caught up with her, was rushed to the hospital. "She only has days to live," the doctor told the family. The family believes it was then that John decided it was "time for him to go;" his caregiver days over. But, Jean surprised everyone; family and doctors alike, and left the hospital in good spirits. My uncle's path was, however, irreversible and he simply "went to sleep" a few days later sitting in his wheel chair.

The Friday before her death, Jean began to deteriorate, once again. But, just like before, on Saturday she rallied and smiled and talked to her daughter. On Sunday, a caregiver saw her pointing to John's picture, telling him, "I'm okay." Early Monday morning he came to get her.

And so, they are free. He from constant, frustrating battles with old age; she from the never-ending struggles with a disease that still has no cure in sight. No longer bound to wheelchairs, I like to picture the two of them dancing on clouds as my aunt tilts her head back and laughs…just the way I remember.

Spending the weekend at Simmons was pretty magical, I must say.

Long story: It started with meeting my very good friend Diane Raymond for dinner Thursday night in which we ate amazingly good food and had our usual laugh out loud conversation. She and E exchanged jokes and by the end of the night, it seemed impossible that we hadn’t seen each other in three years.

That night I didn’t sleep. I drank some sort of after dinner tiramisu-tini thing and I think a combination of that and being scared stiff kept me awake. By morning, between no sleep and mounting nerves I felt, well, very ill. I took a cab to Simmons, found out when my talk was, drank some coffee on an empty stomach (baaaad idea) and found a seat in the back of the auditorium.

I sat quietly listening to first Richard Michelson (lots of fun) and then David Macaulay (would have been fun if he weren’t talking about the human body and the inner workings while I battled the urge not to be sick).

Next it was time to break off for the professional connections sessions and I was up. Professional connections were meant to be much smaller and less formal presentations. I had 16 people come to my talk. I did not get sick. People shared their work. Asked great questions. And clapped!

I attempted to make a salad at the salad bar and wound up dumping loads of croutons on my salad because they were in this strange contraption and... well, long story. I sat with Megan Lambert for lunch and we had a great time catching up. Megan does all sorts of wonderful things at the Eric Carle Museum and if you ever get a chance to visit, look her up!

Next we listened to Alice Hoffman, Natalie Babbitt, Polly Horvath, Roger Sutton and Jerry Pinkney. Quite the line-up, eh? At some point in there we had a brief break for dinner so jenlibrarian and I bought a snack and we sat and visited, soon joined by Megan and Nancy Werlin. I’ve only met Jen once before and that was very briefly, but being her LJ friend gave me the impression that we were long-time personal friends and not, in fact, strangers. I hope I didn’t scare her because our conversation was almost immediately personal. Or perhaps that speaks to how awesome and approachable Jen is? I don’t know. Anyway Jen, you’re the best!

OK so after our non dinner we heard more speakers and then went to the reception, where I had a glass of wine after basically not eating all day. Bad idea. Then I shared a taxi back to our inn with an old friend, (Hi Roni!) from my Hatfield writing group days. E was still awake when I got home and having trouble falling asleep. So I crawled into bed with him, put my arm around him, and closed my eyes. After the day I’d had, that was pretty much the best feeling in the world. Unfortunately, he then woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach ache, and Peter and I took turns taking care of him. One more night of no sleep. Sigh.

Next morning was more of the same. Non breakfast and uncontrollable nerves, since I had to repeat my talk again. I ran into Angela Johnson in the lobby though, and just seeing a familiar, loving person made me feel a hundred times better. We listened to Matthew Reinhart and then Nancy Werlin (who was, not surprisingly, INCREDIBLE). Nancy is so smart. SOOOO smart. And I love her because she wrote her talk for this specific conference and she really got into the theme and found brilliant connections and well, yeah. Just... GO NANCY!

During the Q & A, I handed Angie my ARC just so she could see the cover, but she opened to the first page and started reading. Gulp. I let her keep the book. :-)

This time, my presentation had over 20 people attend and there weren’t even enough seats! Cool! And... SCARY! But I think this one went better than the first one, and a lot of people stayed after to ask more questions.

And then it happened.

I felt an overwhelming shift. I mean I really felt it. I wasn't invisible any more. I had used my voice. People had listened. And no, Slatts, I didn't even have a microphone. It was as though I'd crossed some invisible threshold and I knew I would never be the same. Or no. I would be the same, but my life would not.

After my talk I saw my agent, Barry Goldblatt and we went back to the auditorium to listen to Kadir Nelson (wow) and then Angie and Barry spoke. As I sat in the audience, I realized I was part of the family Barry was speaking about when he referred to his clients. I felt so incredibly lucky at that moment. So incredibly happy. Yes. That's about all I can say.

By the time Angie and Barry finished I was so exhausted from lack of eating and sleeping and from being a nervous wreck, I joined them in a lounge area and the three of us read/dozed. I won’t say who did what. Well, OK. Angie read LESSONS. It was pretty strange, let me tell you, sitting next to her while she read my words. Angie is so amazing. Yes, she is a brilliant and beautiful writer. But she is also a brilliant and beautiful person. And her heart is bigger than the state of Ohio. I swear. But it is still pretty intimidating to watch her read your book! ;-)

Next came a reception. We stayed in our lounge seats while admirers swarmed Angie with books to be signed, and others asked Barry for his card. And Peter and E showed up and I was by now in a daze. And then I nearly fainted when someone asked to take my picture with Barry, which was just so funny.

And then it was over. And we all walked a few blocks away to a restaurant and we sat outside and watched crazily-dressed concert goers walking by us on their way to the POLICE concert, which was at Fenway Park. It was so nice to sit and relax and chat and be with family. And Angie and Barry were so patient to put up with the nonstop babbling E go on and on and on and... you get the picture... about TV shows, of all things. With THE POLICE playing in the background.

We walked Angie and Barry back to the dorms and then we took a taxi back to our inn. Once again I crawled into bed with E and listened to his quiet breathing, let it pull me back to center, back to the whole me.

But driving out of Boston yesterday morning, I could still feel that shift. Something happened this weekend. Its sort of like the feeling you have when you graduate from college. Like you've just accomplished this huge task you often thought you might fail at. And you know everything is going to be different now. And you're glad, but you're also scared and excited and overwhelmed. But you also know, somehow, that you're going to be OK, as long as you remember who you are, and hold those you love close to your heart.

Short story: I am the same me, but everything has changed.

Thanks to those of you who sent good-luck messages! They meant so much to me. :-)

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Monday Morning Warm-Up:

Write to the prompt, "I never expected..."

We're in a very cozy room at an inn in Coolidge Corner. I'm trying to breathe and get over these blasted nerves.

Yesterday we went to the Candlewick offices and I met lots and lots of people, including the woman who designed the cover of LESSONS. Best of all I got to chat with my editor and hand over my signed contract for the second book. :-)

I also had a nice e-mail from Alice Pope, editor of CWIM! She has decided to post some excerpts of the '08 edition on her blog. First up was the interview she did with me. We talk about the awesomeness of grants, Robert Cormier (what a strange coincidence that got posted on the same day as my post yesterday!!), Barry Goldblatt and Joan Powers. Oh, and work.

Alright.

Enough procrastinating.

I am off.

Thanks for the well wishes, everyone!

xo

Today, it's time to pick up and pack up and go back to Boston. To Simmons. It's such an odd thing, returning after graduating 12 years ago. I left that building holding a dream I shared with a small handful of people, embarrassed to dare to hope for such a thing. And tomorrow morning I'll return holding that dream in my hand.

At the very conference I'm speaking at, I stood in a line to have Robert Cormier sign his book for me. Robert Cormier. And I did what I always do when I have someone sign my book. I didn't say anything. I just smiled and handed his book to him. But he talked to me. He asked me if I was a recent graduate. He asked me what I was going to do next. And without thinking, I told him my secret dream. He looked up at me and smiled. I told him that I had started a novel, but hadn't finished yet. He nodded, and told me to finish. And I probably said OK. I will. And then he said, when you finish, send it to me. And at that point I'm sure my mouth dropped open as he flipped to the back of the book and wrote down his address. And then I got brave, and told him how much I loved his work. How his books turned me into a reader in high school. But of course I worried later that he thought I told him that just as a thank you for his generosity. I'm sure now, that I was wrong.

If it weren't for Robert Cormier's invitation, would I have finished that first novel? I remember the whole time I was pushing myself to finish, I wasn't even sure I'd dare send it to him. What if I misunderstood? What if he didn't really make the offer. But then I'd find his book, turn to the back, and see his address there, waiting. Did he know that's what it would take to get me through? Maybe. I like to think so.

Don't ask what if... just do. Just write. Keep the dream even if you only share it with a handful of people.

Have a great end of the week and weekend, everyone!