Wednesday, December 7, 2011

More birthday thoughts


Paul, age nine, showing off his ability to play the saxophone


Though Paul always showed an interest in the piano – even as a baby – his first music lessons were at school on a rented saxophone when he was nine years old. But after a year and bumpy progress in his ability to play that instrument, he asked for a synthesizer. We said we’d get him one once he learned to play our piano. So at age ten he committed to piano lessons and regular practicing and within a year we knew he had a special talent. By the time of his Bar Mitzvah when he was thirteen, he had his synthesizer and a growing interest in jazz music. The next year he enrolled in Crossroads High School and auditioned to be in its jazz ensemble. He was admitted. Paul as a jazzman never looked back.

My Jazzman

My jazzman                                        
beat it out
on the mighty eighty-eights,
played those riffs,
tapped his feet
bent his head
down to the keys,
felt those sounds
on his fingertips.
Yeah, he was a hot man
on those eighty-eights.

But all too soon
his bag grew dark.
He went down,
deep down.
My jazzman
played the blues,
lost that spark,
closed the lid.
And, yeah, you got it right,
quit the scene.
laid himself down
in that bone yard
for the big sleep.
Yeah, for the really big sleep.

(appears in Leaving the Hall Light On, Lucky Press LLC 2011)


Sunday, December 4, 2011

Is my marketing program beginning to pay off?

So, it looks like there’s been a little movement in my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light OnAmazon sales ranking this week. It went down from as high as in the one millions to the 700,000s earlier this week, and back up to the one millions again and down to the 300,000s today. Does that mean two books have sold? I have no clue what those numbers mean.

But hopefully all that has been going on in the last few weeks has spurred some sales: my talk at the American Association of University Women in mid November, Marla Miller (Marketing the Muse) highlighting my platform earlier this week and posting my July 19, 2010 blog piece about my journey to getting published yesterday, my showcase on The Hamilton Gallery with links to Amazon for book purchases, and another five-star review
up on Amazon yesterday. It’s really been a yeasty time.

Plus I’ve had more and more Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter connections, and I look forward to a piece about my work and book in a future issue of the Didi Hirsch Mental Health Services newsletter. I’ll be interviewed for that a week from Monday.

I just find that I spend much too much time worrying about sales ranks and all the other social networking I’m doing to try to interest people in buying my book.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I’ve taken steps to be hired as a proposal consultant again. Working on a proposal for a couple of months could take my attention away from what’s on my personal network pages and give my life a better balance. 



Paul, four years old

Friday, December 2, 2011

Birthday thoughts


It’s time to think about how to remember Paul on his birthday this year. Had he lived, he would have become forty years old on December 31.

I wonder why I can remember the day he was born so vividly. I can also remember the day he died – over twelve years ago now. Some of the in between is gone, some of the memories may be skewed a bit, but not a day goes by that I don’t acknowledge Paul’s existence in my life.

Maybe it’s enough of a celebration to have a celebration of his life – listen to his music, get out and read from his favorite books – they are still packed in boxes out in the garage – and eat some of his favorite foods – probably those would be pizza and sushi. And continue to write about him.

Many of the poems I’ve written about him appear in my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On. I think I’ll post a few of those this month too. I’ll also post some more of his pictures. He really was an adorable baby and a good-looking guy. After all, I am his mother, I have a right to boast.


Paul in 1972, less than a year old

Here's one of my favorite Paul poems. I tried to capture his Buddha kind of guy quality. Also, it gives you an idea about the books and music he liked.

Buddha

“The dead we can imagine to be anything at all.”
Ann Patchett, Bel Canto

He sits cross-legged in a tree
deep in concentration,
the way he would sit on the floor of his room
learning against the bed doing homework,
composing music, talking on the phone.
His closed-mouth grin shows
he is pleased to be where he is.
No longer a skinny rail, his cheeks filled out,
his skin clear, his eyes bright.
His tree has everything – soft jazz sounds
flowing from all directions,
deep vees and pillows for sitting and reclining,
the scent of incense and flowers,
branches of books by Miller, Tolstoy, and Dostoevsky
the music of Davis, Gould, Bach and Lennon,
and virtual communication to those he loves.
He needs no furniture, no bedding, no clothes, no food.
Those necessities are for worldly beings.
The passing clouds give him comfort
and the stars light his way.
Heaven takes care of him
as he imagines himself
to be anything at all.