Stories I Tell Myself

Linda Brody Bakst on Brooklyn, growing up, identity and more

recent posts

about

Author | Brooklyn-born Jewish American on a search for identity & deeper meaning. Debut book “More than Matzoh Balls” out 2/15.

  • Travelogue: Norway

    I’m on the final leg of a cruise through Norway. We’re heading to Amsterdam as the last stop on this trip abroad. The stops in Norway included Bergen, Alta, Tromsø, and Narvik—starting in the southern part of the country, traveling north of the Arctic Circle, then crossing the North Sea to reach Amsterdam.

    The trip was advertised as a search for the Northern Lights – something I’ve always wanted to see. They made no guarantee, obviously, that we would see them, but this time of year gave a reasonable chance. Apparently, there is a seasonal pattern to their appearance, and we are nearing the end of a period when they are usually active. We have been lucky to see them several times. 

    The ship sends a recorded message to each room whenever the bridge detects activity, alerting passengers. The first few times it happened, I wondered why it seemed to occur when we were warm and in bed for the night—either at midnight or later. Did the aurora borealis have something against us getting a full night’s sleep? I requested that they adjust their timing, and, lo and behold, they did! The next few times were at a more reasonable hour.

    Interestingly, sometimes the ‘lights’ appeared more as streaks of white gas in the sky, without color, until you looked through a camera lens. Then, magically, the color would appear – mostly green in varying intensity, sometimes with hints of red. They look otherworldly as they dance in the sky. It was exciting to see them, especially the first time. Our cabin had a veranda, so we looked out first to see what we could see. Then we bundled up and went out on one of the upper decks for a better view. One night, it was late, cold, and windy, and I decided I didn’t need to see them again that badly and went back to bed. Overall, I am very grateful to have had the experience.

    We are traveling with two other couples, and one night at dinner, I asked what it was about traveling that they liked most. One of our companions said they most enjoyed walking through new and different places, taking photos of interesting and/or beautiful sights. And, also sampling local cuisine. Food ranked high for several of my fellow travelers. They wanted to try things they had not had before, discovering dishes they might then try to make at home.

    Trying food is a little complicated for me. When I was in my mid-30s, I developed a reaction to shellfish. My neck turned bright red, and my heart would race. I loved shellfish – especially shrimp. But after the second time it happened, and I thought I might need to go to the emergency room, I stopped eating it. It has been 30 years. Aside from avoiding shellfish, it made me wary of trying new things in general. Perhaps there is no good reason for that, but it has interfered with my willingness to be adventurous when eating. I am sorry that’s the case, but while I enjoy a good meal, food isn’t that high a priority for me. As long as I can get something tasty, I’m good. I imagine that someone for whom it was more important might take a different approach and not limit themselves as I have.

    Anyway, I still love traveling. I love seeing new places – it doesn’t have to be as exotic as a Norwegian fjord (at least that’s exotic to me), it can be an ordinary American city, just someplace I have never seen before. I like seeing how other people live. When you can get a glimpse of other lives, it is so interesting, especially when it reflects different priorities. Our tour guide in Tromsø, who had a dry sense of humor, shared with us two fundamental ideas that Norwegians are basically born understanding: (1) Don’t think you’re so special – you are a speck in the world; and (2) you can’t control Mother Nature – take her seriously and respect her. I found that very interesting and quite a contrast to the way Americans generally think. Americans tend to believe in our exceptionalism and individualism, and while we might not think we can conquer our natural environment, I don’t know that we give it its due.

    I also appreciate learning the history of different places. It broadens my perspective on the world, which is so important, especially as the world gets smaller and more connected. It helps to take a step back and recognize that there is more than one way to see an issue.

    But, probably the thing I enjoy the most about travel is the scenery – seeing beautiful places with my own eyes, not just in photographs or videos. Appreciating how spectacular this world is and how there are many different landscapes. There are similarities, too. One could argue that a beach is a beach, or a mountain is a mountain. But that isn’t really true. The Adirondacks are not the same as the Rockies, the beaches of California are not like the beaches of Florida. Cruising the fjords of Norway is not the same as the inside passage of Alaska.

    I am grateful that I have seen the differences. I hope to continue to do that. There is so much beauty on this earth. I just hope we humans don’t screw it up! While I am on vacation, trying to relax, it is hard to block out the realities of conflict around the globe. There are staff on this ship who are not able to get home because they either live in or need to pass through the Middle East, so they are stuck. Same with their replacements. I can pretend, for the moment, that all is well as I gaze out on the flowing sea, but I know better.

    I hope for peace for this beautiful world.

  • Celebrating Family and Identity: A Toast

    There aren’t that many days in our lives when we feel truly special. At least I haven’t had that many. Even if we try to slow down, appreciate our day-to-day lives, and notice gestures of kindness and affection, we don’t often feel showered with love and respect. Maybe a milestone birthday, your wedding, or a retirement party, but sometimes those occasions are fraught as well. I had that rare experience of feeling enveloped in warmth, surrounded by people who were rooting for me this past weekend.

    My brother, Mark, and sister-in-law, Pam, organized a book party for me to celebrate the publication of More Than Matzoh Balls: My Search for Jewish-American Identity. Some family and friends came together to toast my achievement.

    Gary, my husband of 42 years and change, offered the following poem as his toast:

    Linda and her Nana’s table

    They were inseparable

    A safe cocoon, so stable

    A time so memorable.

    Her family hid a shocking secret

    No one spoke about.

    A letter told them of the loss

    Silence could not block out.

    When we met, she also learned

    How my parents survived.

    While many fell, against all odds

    They made it through alive.

    Two families, two traumas

    And two ways to cope.

    Scars of anguish, fear and pain

    Entwined with love and hope.

    All this family legacy

    Stirred around her brain

    And mingled with modernity

    In introspective pain.

    How did Linda fit in?

    And where did she belong?

    Could she find her place and yet

    Embrace that family bond?

    So she started writing

    Blog posts week by week.

    Giving us those snippets

    Giving us a peek.

    A book was such a daunting task

    But she had a tale to tell.

    She wrote and rewrote endlessly

    Dug deep into her well.

    Sometimes it seemed impossible

    Would it ever get done?

    But then she found a publisher

    A new phase had begun.

    She wrote stories we need to hear

    She wrote with care and love

    What the human soul can bear

    And can rise above.

    And now the book is published

    To fill the void with light

    Filled with purpose, filled with hope

    Invested with insight.

    So now we toast our Linda

    For nurturing the dream.

    For showing how a world that vanished

    Can sometimes be redeemed.

    To Linda

    Everyone lifted their glasses and took a sip. It was a special moment. Gary understood all that had gone into this, and he expressed it so beautifully. Sometimes I think he should be the writer in the family! Maybe when he retires, we both can be.

    Whatever happens with the book in terms of sales or attention, it is not as important as having the love and support of family and friends. Of course, I won’t be disappointed if it sells, too!

  • An Open Letter to Steven Spielberg

    Note: I have no expectation that Steven Spielberg will read this or hear about it, but I want to put it out into the world. Of course, if any reader has a connection to him, please share it!

    Dear Mr. Spielberg,

    I am writing to thank you for creating the Shoah Visual History Foundation. It has been a gift to my family.

    In August of 1995, the Bakst family gathered at the Pines Hotel in the Catskills to support Paula Bakst, née Silverfarb, and David Bakst as they gave their testimony about their experiences during the Holocaust. Each was interviewed separately. Our entire family was filmed as a coda to Paula’s presentation. Though it was painful for Paula and David to relive those memories, they viewed it as a responsibility to future generations and wanted it to serve as proof of the reality of the horror of the Holocaust.

    In contrast to some survivors, Paula and David spoke of their experiences during the war before participating in the Shoah Foundation program. I am their daughter-in-law and joined the family in 1983. I heard stories piecemeal in the decade before their testimony. Their four children heard even more over the years, but it wasn’t a narrative. Being interviewed by a trained person helped to create a more complete picture. Importantly, it also painted a portrait of their lives before the upheaval of the invasion, first by the Soviets and then by the Nazis. Watching their testimony, we better understood all that was lost: a way of life, their shtetl culture. We also better appreciated all that was involved to allow for their survival.

    Aside from illuminating our family’s history, their testimony, along with the 59,000 others collected for the project, can be studied by scholars. There are countless stories waiting to be heard. It is at least somewhat reassuring, in this time of rising antisemitism and denial of truth, that this library exists.

    You may be interested to know that Paula’s and David’s testimonies were key resources for two books: The Shoemaker’s Son, written by their granddaughter, Laura Bakst, and More Than Matzoh Balls: My Search for Jewish-American Identity, written by me.

    On a lighter note, I recognize you don’t need help developing material for your movies, but Paula’s and David’s survival and love story would make a wonderful movie!

    I hope you take pride in and feel deep satisfaction knowing how impactful your work has been. It goes without saying that your movies have entertained, enlightened, and uplifted millions of people worldwide. The Shoah Foundation initiative deserves to be recognized on equal footing. It serves as an essential archive of the truth of the Holocaust today and for generations to come.

    Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

    Sincerely,

    Linda Brody Bakst

    Screen grabs from their visual testimony:

  • Explore Identity in ‘More Than Matzoh Balls’

    I have some exciting news to share! My book, More Than Matzoh Balls: My Search for Jewish-American Identity, is being published. It is available to preorder now on Barnes and Noble and will be available soon on Amazon (see link below). You can also request it from your local bookseller. It will be in print on February 15th.

    The book is not simply a compilation of my blog posts. Faithful readers of Stories I Tell Myself may recognize some of the experiences I recount, but there is significant new material. It is not just a series of essays. It is a story, a journey of searching for identity and the challenges one faces in that process. I also weave the extraordinary Holocaust survival story of my in-laws throughout the narrative.

    Though it may be particularly resonant for Jewish-Americans, I believe it addresses universal themes of faith, legacy, family relationships, generational trauma, and self-understanding. Many of us, dare I say most of us, have at least dual identities as Italian-Americans, African-Americans, Mexican-Americans; the list can go on and on. Navigating that duality is challenging in our society. Add to that different faith traditions, and you have complex strands of identity.

    I hope you will order the book, read it (!), and then offer a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or whatever platform you prefer. Of course, you are welcome to reach out with comments through my blog, as well.

    I believe it is a good choice for book clubs. If you are part of one, I hope you will consider recommending it. If you are interested, I am happy to participate as my schedule allows.

    More Than Matzoh Balls has been a project with a very long gestation! I have been writing parts of it in my head for decades, before finally committing it to paper, starting about five years ago. I am excited and proud to see it come to fruition. I hope readers will come away with new insights and questions to ask themselves.

    Here is a peek at the cover!

    If you want to preorder the book: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/more-than-matzoh-balls-linda-brody-bakst/1149134869?ean=9798295417085

    Or from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Matzoh-Balls-Linda-Brody-Bakst/dp/B0GFC22XD3/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3UAY43SZUWRED&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.wtTprPo3Zdyd99mfbE6ZRN1JWtN_moezdglrfxj9t0jURAWnoPJFA4hLT1Qev9aZvbf5V3YkJugnsr_Fu-2eXP9z3FzGGsbKEbACEt1O0YEzMQtRvP2Dl0nouC3jCvrhBw2JYtxwsaS6–QNBXA7Kg.DJM2due-G-arBFh_4FewDF9au_Vq8l5lyI8H448j-2M&dib_tag=se&keywords=more+than+matzo+balls&qid=1768490275&s=books&sprefix=%2Cstripbooks%2C127&sr=1-1

    Thank you, dear blog readers, for giving me the encouragement I have needed over the years to continue this project. I hope you will take satisfaction in knowing you contributed to my seeing this through – and more than that, I hope you will enjoy the read!

  • Searching for Light

    The succession of terrible events has hit me hard. The shooting at Brown University, the attack on Jews celebrating Hanukkah in Sydney, Australia, and the murder of Rob and Michelle Reiner combined to drive the cold, dark winter into my soul. As I lay in bed, I thought about the individuals who carried out these monstrous acts. I imagined peering into their hearts and minds, and what I saw frightened me. How does a person get to a place where they feel that this is their only alternative? How angry, aggrieved, hopeless must the person be? If it is mental illness, how does it get to that point? Is a person who commits any one of these acts, by definition, mentally ill? I don’t know how to process this.

    I am always looking for solutions. I want to understand the problem and come up with a plan of action. I don’t know where to start.

    I do have one idea, and that is more restrictive gun laws. As I wrote before, I would be more than willing to repeal the Second Amendment, though, despite the accumulation of mass shootings, Americans are not willing to go there. Obviously, restricting guns doesn’t address how the Reiners were murdered, but it might help limit mass shootings and suicides.

    It also appears that we need to pay more attention to the intersection of mental illness and addiction. We have not successfully addressed, from either a medical or a policy perspective, how to help those who suffer from both. It appears that they feed each other and create a complex set of problems that are not easily solved despite the best efforts of parents, spouses, friends, or therapists. We need to commit resources to find answers; it is unlikely under the current administration.

    None of this is helped by having a president so ill-equipped to empathize, so deficient in humanity. Every decision he and his administration make sends us in the wrong direction. In his offensive social media statement after the death of the Reiners, which struck the wrong note in every respect, he characterized someone who was murdered as having ‘passed away,’ which is just wrong. This may be a small point, especially relative to the larger issue, but using ‘passed away’ to describe what happened to Rob and Michelle Reiner is absurd. They didn’t pass away. People pass away from old age. I can accept the term in the context of illness, but when someone is violently killed and has their life abruptly cut short, they didn’t pass away. My mother passed away. She was in her 90’s, was in hospice care, and was ready.  But what would one expect from our President? He is devoid of decency or insight.

    I watched the movie The Apprentice. It was about Trump’s ascension in New York City’s real estate scene. It came out in 2024 and starred Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong; both were nominated for Academy Awards for their performances. I’m not sure what motivated me to watch it – probably boredom – but given my disdain for Trump, it was an odd choice. I started watching, thinking I would probably turn it off after a few minutes, but I was surprised to find it very compelling. The apprentice in the title refers to Trump himself, not his television show. Trump was an acolyte of Roy Cohn, and the film follows Trump being taken under Cohn’s wing. If you don’t know who Roy Cohn is, all you need to know is that he was the attorney who supported Joe McCarthy’s witch hunt for communists in the 1950s. Cohn subscribed to a philosophy of gathering power at all costs – he didn’t believe in right and wrong. He pursued his own or his clients’ interests relentlessly without regard for ethics or morality.

    In the movie, Trump is young, still unformed – he’s stumbling, trying to make deals and impress his difficult father. He is attracted to Cohn’s power. Over time, he adopts Cohn’s approach, perhaps more ruthlessly than Cohn could even imagine. I think the movie offers insight, which may or may not be accurate, into how Trump became the monster he is now. The movie ends long before he becomes president, but you see hints of what the future will bring.

    It is challenging to integrate the terrible things that are happening in our world with the love and beauty I see and feel. This holiday season, I am trying not to let the dark overwhelm the light. It felt especially important to light our menorah in the window each night of Hanukkah. I want to be a light. I can’t ignore the dark – I can’t completely turn off the news or stay off social media. To me, that feels irresponsible, but I understand that some may need to do that for their mental health.

    Despite the challenges we face, I hope folks can feel the love of family and friends, see the beauty in a sunset, enjoy a good meal, smile when they see a child giggle, and hold hope for the new year—wishing everyone a brighter, more joyful 2026.

    Celebrating the light
    or appreciating the beauty of snow on trees.

  • The Power of History: Insights from Normandy

    Note: I wrote a blog post a while ago that asked the question ‘History,’ History In the following post, I take a different perspective.

    What is history? When you visit a new city or country and take a tour, the guide often tells you about the history of the place. I love that. Perhaps my enthusiasm is based on being the daughter of a father who was a high school history teacher and a mother who was a reading teacher. So, I have been a student of history for basically my entire life. But that doesn’t answer the question of what it is. What does a tour guide include in their presentation?

    I am thinking about this because we just returned from a trip that took us to some very interesting places with long, long histories. It is hard not to conclude that when we learn about history, we are often told about wars, and if not outright wars, then power struggles. Is history really a narrative of power? It appears to be so. And, when you dig into it a bit, you sometimes find that those power struggles and wars are about personal things – insults or slights.

    This is a stretch, but if Hitler had been accepted to art school, could that have changed the course of history? Would his ego have been assuaged enough? Would he not have needed to go on a quest to prove himself with such horrific and destructive consequences?

    The trip we took was D-Day themed, so perhaps it was inevitable that the places we saw were chosen based on the role played in that momentous event, or in World War II in general. Perhaps my perception that history is often the recounting of conflicts or wars is colored by the type of tour we chose.

    We took a Viking river cruise that was organized around D-Day. We visited London, Paris, and Normandy. Each place we visited was the site of intense World War II action. Gary and I share a fascination with the topic. Our families were impacted, if not shaped, by those events. Gary has watched countless documentaries about the military battles. I have read innumerable historical novels set in that era. With that said, I learned so much on the trip, and Gary would say the same.

    First, I did not understand the scope of the D-Day invasion. It covered 72 miles of France’s coastline. I thought of it as a single beach, perhaps because of the way it was portrayed in movies. In fact, even that beach, Omaha Beach alone, was six miles long. Aside from breadth of the operation, it also involved so much in the way of logistics and coordination among the allies. They built a temporary port to facilitate bringing in more troops and supplies. It was quite an undertaking.

    Asnelles – part of Gold Beach
    Gold Beach with remnant of temporary harbor
    Part of Omaha Beach

    It was also clear that the difference between success and failure was very narrow. The Allies were on the brink of failure. It is scary to think about the consequences of that possibility. One can’t help but be moved by the extraordinary sacrifice made by the young soldiers who carried out that mission. Standing in the cemetery, which overlooks the English Channel, looking upon row after row of crosses and Stars of David, is overwhelming.

    A small portion of the cemetery

    The land in Normandy still bears the scars of the battle, too. There are craters in grassy areas, and they have left the remnants of the German battlements. The coastline is also dotted with monuments. The statues, sculptures, and museums express the gratitude of France and Europe for their liberation and tell the story of how that was achieved.

    German bunker
    Another German Bunker
    sculpture on Omaha Beach
    Monument at Utah Beach
    sculpture near Pointe du Hoc

    Perhaps the most powerful aspect of visiting this sacred space is its breathtaking beauty.

    I stood on the cliffs, it was so peaceful, the only sounds were birds and the waves. The stark contrast to what it must’ve been like on June 6, 1944, with the pounding of artillery and bombs falling, is striking. When I looked at the cliffs that the soldiers had to scale, I couldn’t help but be amazed by their strength and bravery.

    img_0537
    The cliffs at La Pointe du Hoc

    The towns, which withstood the onslaught, are charming. Some have modern elements that reflect the rebuilding effort, but many of the structures, which date back centuries, are still standing. I could have spent a great deal more time there. We visited for two full days, and it didn’t feel like enough.

    These photos are from the old part of Rouen, considered the capital of Normandy.

    I can’t recommend a visit strongly enough. We need to be reminded of all that went into fighting fascism and what people were willing to sacrifice for freedom. It would be tragic if we allowed our country to continue to slide into authoritarianism. I’m not sure Gary and I needed reminding, but I came away with a renewed sense of responsibility for doing what I can to prevent that from happening.

    If one of the reasons we study history is to learn from it and avoid making the same mistakes, I urge everyone to revisit what World War II and the rise and fall of fascism have to teach us. War, even a just one, is brutal and exacts a steep price.

  • Reflections on Life in America: A Call to Action

    We are driving south on the Thruway once again. Heading to New York City for the weekend. Gary will be going to see a Met game with our son on Saturday. I will find ways to amuse myself – not a difficult assignment in the City (in my heart the one and only city :)).

    I am struck by the disconnect between my life and the world at large. It is a beautiful day. The green hills of the Catskills are showing hints of color as we approach fall, they still look green and lush. The air is clear, the is sky a cloudless, azure, and the sun is beaming. If I only look at the world right in front of me, it is lovely. But, I know better. If I cast a wider look I think of the tragedies around the world  (in Gaza, Israel, Ukraine, etc.), the crackdown on free speech, the unrelenting gun violence in our country, the degradation of our environment that leads to more and more natural disasters, the fear that immigrant families live with, the extraordinary corruption and lack of integrity of Donald Trump. Most of those realities don’t touch me directly. Not yet, anyway. I am fortunate. I can afford higher prices in the supermarket and at the gas pump. I already own a home. Gary and I have savings – hopefully enough to ensure a comfortable retirement. We are able to make these pleasant plans for the weekend.

    I look at the cars streaming down the highway, wondering about the inhabitants. Are they like me, heading off to pleasant destinations? If they aren’t faced with serious illness or job loss/uncertainty, are they just taking things at face value, telling themselves, “It’s all good.”

    I worry that people like me, who are in my economic situation more or less, can delude themselves that everything is okay. If your immediate family is okay – they are gainfully employed, aren’t married to immigrants, perhaps own homes, if their children are healthy – you can put your head down and ignore everything that is going in the wrong direction. They may not be paying attention to the larger picture. Maybe they don’t need Medicaid, maybe their employment isn’t impacted by federal budget cuts, maybe the confusion around vaccinations isn’t concerning if they aren’t immunocompromised, maybe they assume that since they have resources, their children and grandchildren will be protected.

    But life is fragile, and things can change on a dime.

    A mass shooting and/or random violence can strike anyone. A natural disaster can unmoor a whole family. Illness can change everything. We don’t have control over these things, for the most part, but when they happen, we hope to have support to get through it. Some things could help minimize the occurrences – gun control (or see my last essay on repealing the second amendment), more mental health services, steps to slow down climate change could help. But even if we can’t stop these things from happening, we can build supports to help us cope and knowing that support is there, can lessen the anxiety. The current attitude, though, is in the opposite direction. Our social safety net is being decimated. Cutting FEMA, loosening environmental regulations, reducing funding for mental health and pulling government resources from medical research are all disastrous policy choices.

    More than that, though, the attitude that is allowing all this to happen flows from our president, his callousness, his thirst for revenge, his selfishness. We, the American people, are being led by someone who is a terrible role model, and we are worse for it. We cannot allow his character flaws to become part of our national character.

    The danger is that if our lives are largely blessed, or if our vision is narrow, we can pretend all of this is not happening.

    I hope your eyes are open. I hope, as we approach the midterm elections, you pick your head up and use a wide lens to look around and then vote accordingly. It’s not all good and if we continue on this road, we will no longer be the United State of America that I grew up believing in, its values established in the Declaration of Independence: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men* are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

    *I note the archaic use of the term men and understand it to mean all humans.

    Lady Liberty still stands in the harbor of New York City, as viewed from Governor’s Island on a recent visit.

  • Repeal the Second Amendment

    Repeal the second amendment! I know that is an inflammatory statement, and maybe unpopular, too, but I need to put it out there.

    It would be the ultimate irony if we made progress on gun control after Charlie Kirk’s assassination. My heart does go out to his family, and all those affected by gun violence. Charlie Kirk, though, does not deserve martyrdom. He did a great deal of damage, bringing a message of intolerance and divisiveness to young people on college campuses. I watched a number of videos of him espousing his beliefs. In some instances, I actually agreed with his point (I don’t think Cardi B is a great role model). However, even in those instances, he did it in a disrespectful, one-sided way. I don’t think Britney Spears or Madonna were great role models for little girls either – and for the same reason. We shouldn’t be sexualizing young girls. Why focus only on a Black star? But that isn’t my point, it is just illustrative of the problem with how Kirk approached things. His racism ran deep, and he was oblivious to his privilege. He shouldn’t be lionized in death.

    Now back to my main point: we should repeal the second amendment. I welcome arguments to the contrary, but please don’t bother explaining the meaning of the second amendment to me – whether it was intended only for militias or individuals. I don’t care what our forefathers intended, just as I wouldn’t accept the argument that because our forefathers tolerated (supported? profited from? believed in? were indifferent to? – pick your verb) slavery, holds no water today. We know better. We should know better about guns.

    For those who require guns to hunt, to protect livestock, to protect us, we can make provisions in law; we can set up mechanisms to allow for that. But, we have to let go of the notion that owning a gun is a God-given right. Some of us don’t believe in God, for one thing, but that aside, even if we can all agree in a common morality –  like ‘thou shall not kill’ – I don’t understand how that morality includes gun ownership.

    The Bill of Rights protects our freedom. How do guns protect our freedom? I could more effectively argue that owning a car is more connected to being free in this country than having a gun. We don’t believe that owning a car is a God-given right. Someone explain to me, in the context of the world we live in now, how possessing a gun enhances your freedom, or is essential to your freedom.

    Somewhere along the line we got things twisted in this country. There may have been a time when settling the ‘wild west’ or living a pioneer life, folks needed guns for their survival. That time has passed. As time went on, though, the gun became symbolic of something else (of rugged individualism, of strength, of masculinity…) – not just a tool to hunt or even to protect oneself. If we have gotten to the point where every man, woman and child needs a gun to protect themselves, we are lost.  

    Most Democrats are not willing to say that the second amendment should be repealed. The attachment to guns is too strong, the gun lobby is too powerful (still! – despite the fact that the NRA has been discredited). I believe we need to be bolder. If we start from the presumption that we don’t have a God-given or forefather-given right to have a gun, so much becomes possible. We can still have shooting ranges. People can still hunt, though unless you hunt for food, I don’t understand the pleasure in that – but that is just me. Police and other security-related people can be armed. But it can all be regulated. And, it moves the question of regular folks having automatic weapons off the table – we wouldn’t need a special law to prohibit it. Think how much simpler it would be – we wouldn’t have to argue about what the second amendment actually means! We’d save millions of dollars in litigation costs.

    I understand how freedom of speech, assembly, press and religion relate to freedom. It is a direct connection to the way we live our lives. I get why we have the Bill of Rights. Those activities are central, crucial to our liberty. It is not a slippery slope if we were to remove the second amendment. The right to bear arms has not made us more free and won’t make us more free. Hasn’t that point been made again and again over the last 25 years!?

    I believe the exact opposite of what Charlie Kirk espoused. The second amendment is not worth the loss of life we as a country have endured. The rate of gun violence is too high a price to pay for the right to bear arms.

  • Another Journey: Minnewaska Take Two

    Almost two years ago, September 4, 2023 to be exact, I posted a blog entitled “Walking or Hiking?” It recounted an experience Gary and I had at Minnewaska State Park. We took a trail that was more demanding than expected and it was a hot day. We made it, but not without struggle, and not without Gary providing me necessary support. You can read that account here.

    This past Friday we went back to the same park with the intention of doing the same trail. When we got to the visitor’s center and asked about the condition of the trail, we were told it wasn’t a wise choice because they had gotten over three inches of rain the day before and that route, which crossed a stream, would have taken a beating. We decided to take a different trail that would end at the same view but would likely be in better shape.

    The reason we returned to the scene of that challenge was that some things were different this time around. I am 52 pounds lighter and more fit. I wanted to test myself. I told Gary a few months ago that when I had reached the 50-pound milestone I wanted to try the demanding hike again.

    This weight loss journey has been an interesting one. A little over a year ago my bloodwork revealed I was prediabetic. I was not especially surprised given my family history. Diabetes is epidemic in my family. In some ways I knew it was just a matter of time. I hoped the fact that I was always active would stave it off, but the Covid lockdown had added yet more weight to my already heavy body, so I was losing the battle. I needed to do something.

    I have done many diets over the years and found some success with Weight Watchers but I had never been able to sustain it. The Covid shutdown, which wreaked havoc with my emotional state and limited my exercise, did me in and I never recovered. It was time to consider a new option. In the past I had always been leery of fad diets, surgery or meal replacement approaches because I didn’t think any of them addressed the root problem. Now the weight-loss landscape has changed with the introduction of medications (GLP1’s). My doctor recommended Wegovy. After much consideration, and consulting with my husband who has hundreds of patients using these drugs, I decided to try it.

    The first hurdle was getting preapproval from my insurance company. There were hoops and loops to jump through, but the reality was that I met the criteria, and they did ultimately approve me.

    The second hurdle was that it is an injection. That turned out to be a non-issue. The medication is not delivered by syringe, it is a pen. You barely see the needle and it comes pre-measured. It wasn’t particularly painful either. That was a relief.

    Next issue, was side effects. This I did have to deal with. When I started, I felt some queasiness, but that resolved. The bigger issue, and this may be TMI for some readers, was constipation. I am prone to that to begin with and this made it worse. Some folks have the opposite problem on these drugs. Anyway, it took a while to work that out – making good dietary choices and generous amounts of Metamucil or sometimes MiraLAX helped. Eventually I got to a tolerable place.

    But there were other side effects that built up. I have reflux (heartburn). These medications slow digestion. Again, I have a slow system to begin with. The food sitting in my stomach created more reflux. That is my unscientific explanation for what was happening. For a while this was manageable. As time went on, it became worse. The low point was when I experienced episodes of water brashing, a situation where your glands overproduce saliva not unlike what happens before you vomit in order to neutralize the acid in your esophagus. (My doctor explained this to me when I asked what was happening.) It was very unpleasant. Three weeks ago, I decided to stop taking Wegovy even though I believe I still need to lose weight – at least 15 pounds. But the discomfort was too intense to continue. Thankfully, within a week I was so much more comfortable! I had been on Wegovy a little over a year.

    For me, Wegovy was not a miracle drug, even in terms of the weight loss. Yes, I lost 54 pounds and my recent bloodwork showed that I was no longer prediabetic. But it wasn’t magic. Aside from the side effects, it didn’t entirely change my appetite or remove my issues around food. I still wanted more pasta than protein or vegetables. I still have a sweet tooth. And, the impulse to eat for emotional reasons is still present.

    It is interesting to me how this drug has different impacts on people. According to Gary, who has prescribed GLP1s for soooo many diabetic patients, some folks entirely lose their appetite and are unable to eat. They have to stop taking it since it becomes risky. Some folks have no impact on their appetite and experience little weight loss. Others report that the noise in their head about food, the craving or the urges, are greatly reduced or for some is gone entirely. I had the experience of the noise lessening. If there were cookies in the house, they were no longer calling to me, at least not loudly, more of a whisper.

    I still had to make choices about my diet. I have heard from some friends that they know people who took Wegovy (or Zepbound, another weight loss drug widely prescribed) and would order mozzarella sticks or some other similarly unhealthy item for dinner, but just not eat the whole portion. In other words, they made poor choices, but lost weight. Or other people who only ate one meal a day. I didn’t do either of those things and wasn’t tempted to. The biggest change for me was in portion size. I am a carb addict. This is where I have my toughest challenge. I love carbs in all their forms, particularly pasta, bread and rice. Potato is low on my priority list, but I still love me a baked potato with butter. Anyway, controlling the amount of intake is a major hurdle for me. This is where Wegovy was most successful. I could have a reasonable amount because I would get full more quickly, I could feel that I was full (before taking the medication, I didn’t necessarily perceive fullness until it was way too late), and I knew that I would be terribly uncomfortable if I continued eating beyond fullness.

    In sum, from my experience, the medication helped me to adhere to a Weight Watcher style eating program. I ate what I wanted, more or less, but modestly. Before Wegovy I had a relatively healthy diet, just too much of it, with the added bonus of having a sweet tooth. If it was up to me every meal would include dessert. With medication, since I was feeling full and the noise around cravings had quieted, I was able to control the sweet tooth. That’s how I found success.

    When the side effects became too much, I stopped taking it. Now it remains to be seen if I can sustain the good habits. I already am aware of the increase in wanting sweets. I am trying to keep the portion sizes moderate. So far, and it is way too soon to reach any conclusions, I am managing it.

    I am continuing to weigh myself. It isn’t hard to weigh yourself regularly when you are seeing weight loss. Other than going to the doctor, when I couldn’t avoid it, I probably hadn’t weighed myself at home for five years or more until I started taking the Wegovy. I was in denial. I can’t let myself do that again. After a week of being off the medication, I had gained two pounds. I freaked out. I told Gary I needed a pep talk. He is very good at that. He said some very useful things.

    First, he pointed out that two pounds is a small fraction of what I lost. He told me not to panic; it was to be expected. He reminded me that I needed to give myself more time to adjust – that I had spent a year developing good habits, not only making healthier food choices, but incorporating more exercise (I took up yoga, as I also have written about). Even if I gained some of the weight back, I would still be better off than I was before. He reassured me that regardless of my size, he loved me (yes, he said that, and I needed to hear it). And, he suggested we go to Minnewaska and see how different I felt climbing that mountain.

    Last Friday we went. Though we didn’t do the Millbrook Mountain footpath that we had done before, we took the carriage road to another footpath, Gertrude’s Nose, which was higher up and involved fewer streams/creeks. It was a demanding hike that was about 6.5 miles round trip. It was not as hot as it was two years ago, but it was probably longer and certainly as physically demanding with a couple of scrambles. I managed to sweat profusely. We brought more water this time. We reached Gertrude’s Nose, which has a great payoff with a beautiful view, and I was in good shape. I wasn’t winded and my legs were strong. Very different from how I felt the other time.

    The view from Gertrude’s Nose

    We returned the way we came. We stopped twice briefly to sit but otherwise got back to the car without issue. It was a spectacular hike, and I felt proud of myself. My body was tired, but it should have felt tired.

    2025 -I made it
    2023 – before the climb and the weight loss
    2025 -My hiking sticks resting. I needed them!

    Hopefully the reward of being more fit, of fitting into my clothes and feeling overall better about my body will provide enough motivation to stay on the course.

    I am continuing to navigate this path – I have weighed myself and it bounces around. I lost the two pounds I gained, then went up a pound. Maybe these are normal fluctuations. The weight loss wasn’t a straight line downhill either. I am trying to be honest with myself about portion sizes. I am trying to listen to my body to recognize fullness. It isn’t simple. And, I reserve the right to try the other weight loss drug, if I need to (and insurance approves it). Please don’t judge me.

    Use of weight loss drugs is a sensitive subject. I see no reason to keep it a secret, but it is something people have opinions about. I could write a whole other essay about that and maybe I will. For now, I will end with this thought: taking care of yourself can be a complicated issue. Most of us struggle with it one way or another. Let’s wish each other well on our journeys. If we have something genuinely helpful to say, great; if not, spare the judgment.

  • Parenting Philosophies: What Was I Thinking?

    What was I thinking? That was the question I was left with after a conversation with some family members. What was I thinking when I didn’t assign my kids chores when they were growing up?

    A small group of us were talking about how old we were when we learned to cook, if we learned to cook. Some of us, myself included, learned quite young. I remember being in third grade when I made my first roast chicken. Mom was bedridden, either because of ongoing menstrual problems or a flare of arthritis, and she gave me instructions how to prepare it. Others in our conversation came to it early, too, most learned as they helped their mom, and some didn’t recall being taught at all.

    In the context of this discussion, my son asked, “Mom, you knew how to cook. Why didn’t you teach me?”

    “I don’t know. I didn’t teach your sister either, so it wasn’t a sexist thing,” I responded.

    The topic moved to the broader subject of all types of household chores. One person commented that their father viewed his children as worker bees, thus they had a myriad of responsibilities that were rotated among the siblings.

    In the house I grew up in, we had chores, but they were unevenly divided. Things were assigned based on sex – I did the tasks that were thought of as women’s work, my brothers took out the trash, moved the garbage pails, and swept the driveway. I set the table and did the dishes after dinner daily. I was in junior high school when I staged my rebellion. It was clearly an unfair distribution of labor. At least my parents were persuaded by my argument and things changed. My brother Mark has still not forgiven me.

    I admitted to the group that Gary and I had not required our children to do chores. Before they went to college, I showed them each how to do their laundry. We were fortunate in that for most of the years they were growing up, we had a person come to clean the house either weekly or every other week so the cleaning of bathrooms, washing or vacuuming floors, changing bedding was taken care of. I did the day-to-day straightening, laundry, dishes, etc. Gary did the gardening – the kids would sometimes help him with that. If I asked my son to help me bring in the groceries from the car he did so willingly.

    As I sat there, I wondered: why didn’t we give them some responsibilities? I don’t think I did them any favors by not having them know how to cook, iron, clean, etc. Of course, I wasn’t particularly good at those tasks myself. I didn’t believe in ironing, unless absolutely necessary (still don’t). I don’t know how to sew. I can sew on a button in an emergency, but Gary takes care of that for himself. Cooking was probably the only area I really could have offered them something.

    As I look back, I think I wanted to spare them the drudgery. I resented the chores I did as a child, though my father had explained to me that as a family, we each needed to contribute. I understood his point and accepted it, but I didn’t like it. I must have also carried some resentment for the years that things were so unbalanced with my brothers.

    Another element was that starting when my kids were in first and third grade respectively, I stopped working. I took on some freelance jobs outside the home here and there, but I was essentially a homemaker for a dozen years. Gary worked long hours, and we were well provided for thanks to his efforts. I almost felt guilty, even as I intellectually knew that I was supporting Gary’s career by doing all the housework and managing our family. Emotionally, though, it felt ‘less than,’ or not particularly valuable or admirable. I figured children only get so many years to be carefree so I’d let them be and I would take care of the chores.

    It occurs to me now that I may have also been avoiding the inevitable conflict that goes along with assigning chores. It wasn’t a conscious thing at the time, but I was probably unwilling to take on the fight. This thought doesn’t make me proud but there is likely some truth in it.

    Interestingly, both kids are well functioning adults. They might not have come into adulthood having a lot of the skills or knowledge necessary to take care of a home, but they are doing it, they are quite competent. They would have to say whether they feel they were ill-prepared and if it created problems for them, though they haven’t complained to me. They make good use of Google and YouTube. Somehow, they are both figuring it out with their respective partners.

    I come away, after thinking about this, believing that there isn’t one right way to handle this issue as a parent. Children becoming competent adults involves a lot of things falling into place beyond how this one thing is handled.

    I understand the value of giving children responsibility and having them appreciate the importance of helping as members of a family. Perhaps, my children would be better off today if I had assigned them chores, but we will never know. Each of them got the message that a work ethic was important, and more than that, they don’t exhibit a sense of entitlement. Maybe the behavior they saw modeled was the most powerful factor in shaping them into adults – that and good luck (being lucky in health and not experiencing trauma are immeasurably important).

    One last thought: Gary would remind me periodically that our respective parents raised us very differently, yet we function in the world pretty well. I found that thought comforting. There is room for a range of philosophies and a range of mistakes.

    Carefree days

    Please feel free to share your experiences as a child with chores and/or your parenting approach. I’d love to hear!