SWAMP WALKING WOMAN

Introducing Gideon's River

2011-04-29T15:04:00.000-07:00

Hello to my friends far and wide. While Swamp Walking Woman is a tall tale or myth, Gideon's River is a realistic literary novel set in a made up town that resembles the towns along the upper Susquehanna River. This short clip introduces the novel.

This book is for fun, for families, and for anyone who has ever worried about what is wrong with them. More at www.patricilapidus.com/gideonsriver

You can get Gideon's River from amazon.com

Swamp Walking Woman, a Fairy Tale

2011-01-09T15:00:00.000-08:00

The Innocent in Ancient Fairy Tales

2011-01-07T12:53:00.000-08:00

The Innocent in Ancient Fairy Tales

2011-01-07T12:42:00.000-08:00

We, the people, must find our strength if we are to keep our green earth and keep it green.

How can ancient fairy tales help us understand ourselves and move into our strength?

Swamp Walking Woman is a modern fairy tale about the environment and the people.

In this You Tube video I speak about the stage of innocence.

How to Stop 10,000 Years of Bullies

2010-12-15T16:30:00.000-08:00

Bullies can be stopped. All it takes is for the rest of us to be steady, united, and compassionate.

I sometimes think about how the bullying started. If those who write about the ancient goddess cultures are right, there were few bullies in those matriarchal villages and any who attempted to bully others were quickly wrapped in a love that stopped them. In extremes, a bully could be sent into the forest to fend for himself, but that would not be done until all other efforts had failed.

If my history lessons are accurate, domination cultures started about 10,000 years ago in Eurasia and washed from the dry steppes down into the more fertile river valleys. In any case, there came into the peaceful lands, tribes eager to harass and fight and enslave or kill those they found. These same peoples also fought among themselves and established a hierarchy of power based on size and strength and willingness to cause physical hurt or emotional harm.

What is the matter with the bully? He lacks confidence in himself and covers his self-doubt with force and taunts. What is the matter with the rest of us? We've been wimping out and folding up, letting bullies harm us. That's because we, just like the bullies, lack confidence--and we need guidance.

The theme of "the bully and the wimp" is played out in my novel Gideon's River and in Swamp Walking Woman, a novella size fairy tale in which alligators represent the bullies in the story of our threatened environment. While in the fairy tale, people must literally fight the alligators and take back their world, in the novel a mother and son find their way out of the destructive drama by communicating. It has been said that communication is the great solvent.

Swamp Walking Woman, the beginning

2010-11-19T08:15:00.001-08:00

Responses to Swamp Walking Woman

[Swamp Walking Woman is] a depiction of how humans create their very own swampland on this planet, allowing the ‘gators’ amongst us to usurp our power and to control our lives through fear tactics. I like [the author’s] solution: recreate your own reality and reject the fearmongers’ agenda. Dismantle their power base one positive thought at a time. EB

SWAMP WALKING WOMAN

A Tall Woman Tale

Patricia Mitchell Lapidus

Cold water numbed the woman’s legs. Sun burned her face. Leaves and burrs hung in her thick, unraveling braids. The pack was hot on her back. Her arms ached from carrying the child. One more time she asked herself how life could have taken such a difficult turn.

She had been out late one evening helping a neighbor with a sick grandparent, had started home down the familiar wood path. All at once her village vanished. She knew she had gone the right way, but instead of finding her home nestled among other homes in Oak Valley, she found only scrub oak forest petering into a boggy marsh. In the distance she could hear voices, but when she called out, only her echo answered. And when she turned to retrace her steps, even the scrubby oak forest was gone. All around were ponds dotted with small, wet islands, some of which were but hummocks of tufted swamp grass and a tree or two. She proceeded west by following the moon and, the next day, the path of the sun. Her village should have been in this direction. She pushed hopefully through the mud and water, subsisting on berries and sleeping that first night on a tiny island.

On the afternoon of the second day she walked across one such small island and almost stepped upon a little girl asleep on a grassy hummock. She stepped back and looked around for the child’s parents. She called out, but, as before, only her own voice came back in muffled echoes from the misty wasteland. The child yawned and moved. In the mud the woman found a single footprint with large spreading toes. A wildcat? She wished she possessed her grandfather’s knowledge of the signs of animals and the uses of plants—but no one in her modern world had thought that old stuff of value.

Waking, the child regarded the woman soberly.

The woman squatted beside the little girl. “Hello. What is your name?”

“Where are my grownups?”

“I don’t know, honey. Who left you here in the grass?”

“The cat.”

“The cat?”

But the little girl didn’t explain.

“Come. Let’s find your grownups.”

The girl did not protest being lifted onto the woman’s hip. She was dressed in professionally faded Gap jeans and a purple Gap shirt. In her hair was a purple bow. A child of good fortune, thought the woman. May her good fortune return.

“What is your name?” she asked again.

But the child did not answer.

“I’ll call you Futura.”

Two more days of travel brought no change in the territory. There was no firm ground anywhere. All of Earth seemed a misty, murky place where one struggled to find a solid step. A horsefly buzzed around, whispering in the woman’s ear, “Swamp life is too hard. Why not give up? You could sink into the water and sleep.”

“I can’t give up,” the woman said. “I have the child.”

“Saving the child,” he buzzed. “How noble of you to save her for swamp life. I am touched.”

The horsefly droned around her eyes and hair.

She brushed at the fly. “Dammit!”

“Dammit,” said Futura, the first word she had spoken since “the cat,” and she puckered up to cry, the first emotion she had shown.

The woman, who had been known as Song in her village, smiled at the child and straightened her back. “I am Swamp Walking Woman,” she said. “I will persevere. And I should not be teaching you to curse.” Then she shouted with all her force, “Darn it!!”

A pretty blue dragonfly lit on some rushes.

“Oooh!!!” said Futura softly. With the backs of her fists she rubbed the tears from her eyes.

Before the woman could blink, a flock of dragonflies—also called Darning Needles—thickened the air. Flying and lighting and flying and lighting, they wove the rushes together into a long mat. Back and forth they flew, up and down, in and out, carrying the tip ends of long blades of swamp grass, weaving in and out until a tight rush path stretched before the woman and the child toward an island they had not seen before.

“Put me down!” said Futura.

Swamp Walking Woman set Futura’s feet on the rush path and followed her. When the two reached the beach they ran forward and back and around each other in all directions. The woman laughed and the child shrieked with an exuberance as high as her apathy had been deep. At the edge of a sunny patch of gravel they found morning glory vines climbing tall grasses, blue blossoms sparkling with dew. A sea of flowers carpeted the area between the beach and the trees. There were big bull thistles with bulging purple buds, a bank of wild roses, and fuzzy broad-leafed plantain with spikes taller than Futura. Daisy heads danced in a pleasant breeze and buttercups shone like gold. Futura bent to examine the tiny purple flowers of a Bittersweet Nightshade, deep purple petals curling back from each long yellow center.

“Don’t touch,” the woman said gently, knowing the plant was poisonous.

Near a little stream that ran from under the alders, Futura made sand pies and sprinkled them with seeds. Digging into the bank of the stream, she discovered colors—a layer of purple sand, under that, a layer of red sand, then yellow, then green.

“Why is the sand colored?” she asked.

“Each layer was laid down at a different time. This reddish layer has iron in it. The green has copper. The others have different minerals.”

“Oh.” One sand pie, she said, was a strawberry apple pie, two were pumpkin pies, and one was a blackberry pie. She sprinkled more red and yellow sand on her cakes and left them to dry in the sun. Together the woman and the child ran into the woods looking for adventures. In a glade were fat skunk cabbages whose thick garlicky smell filled the air. Here and there a Jack-in-the-Pulpit stood, ever ready to give a swamp sermon.

The Innocent in the Ancient Fairy Tales

2010-11-05T16:09:00.000-07:00

Where to find Swamp Walking Woman

http:www.tinyurl.com/pj33ns

I have posted a video about The Innocent as seen in ancient fairy tales.

I say "ancient" because in more recent times the old stories were changed to reflect a different and usually lesser wisdom. For example, the Brothers Grimm altered older tales to make them scarier and more graphic with blood and dismemberment. Because they were writing in the context of a patriarchal, domination culture, the tales begin and end in slavery, which is to say that they make us afraid and give us no guidance. Disney, on the other hand, takes the fear completely out of the tales. Disney's fairy tales, rewritten for children, begin and end in innocence.

We could say that every life begins in innocence, however brief. Some of you can look back to the very day you realized your parents didn't have life figured out and were only hoping you would grow up and tell them what was going on. I know of one child who came to such a realization at the age of six, much too young. Even babies, sadly, can lose their innocence if poorly cared for. If you are lucky, you may keep that simply belief that life will work out as you plan right up until college or the first time you get fired from a job.

People can remain innocent well into adulthood, no matter what they may hear of the troubles of the world and of children starving in Biafra, as long as nothing too disappointing happens to them. They lead a charmed life. They feel chosen--and perhaps a bit puzzled why, but willing to have the good life while others do not. I remember feeling that way.

In the old tales, The Innocent was one who did not yet suspect the trials that lay ahead. Her only task is to fall, to lose that state of protection we call grace, and to suddenly be vulnerable to a world that is not as benevolent as she thought. In Swamp Walking Woman, the main character walks down a familiar path and sees her world change into a swamp. A polluted swamp--which is a metaphor for our world today, abused and misused and quite a mess, a hard place to live.

In my next blog I'll speak about the next stage of growth, The Orphan.

The International Women's Writing Guild in Connecticut: Swamp Walking Woman video clip

2010-10-19T15:35:00.001-07:00

The International Women's Writing Guild in Connecticut: Swamp Walking Woman video clip

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dk2vAW5KzyA

The International Women's Writing Guild in Connecticut: Swamp Walking Woman video clip

2010-10-19T15:35:00.000-07:00

The International Women's Writing Guild in Connecticut: Swamp Walking Woman video clip

2010-10-19T07:58:00.000-07:00

While my book Swamp Walking Woman is getting a great response from readers, we are getting ready to launch a novel, Gideon's River, in time for the holidays.

This is a story about a family that heals itself from a centuries long drama we could call "the bully and the wimp."

Have you ever watched a child grow up without confidence? You will recognize that child in Gideon, a boy who does not sit and brood as some children might but pushes for a place in life, pushes in all the wrong ways, though with spirit.

Have you seen two family members arguing, perhaps shouting at each other, hurting each other more and more? You just want them to stop it--but they don't know how.

The story is about more than one family's struggles. It shows an entire community trying to find itself in the 1990s, which were a time of both darkness and incredible light.

For an excerpt, go to http://fictionforfamilies.wordpress.com

from Swamp Walking Woman

2010-10-01T13:33:00.000-07:00

Swamp Walking Woman

Waking, the child regarded the woman soberly.

The woman squatted beside the little girl. “Hello. What is your name?”

“Where are my grownups?”

“I don’t know, honey. Who left you here in the grass?”

“The cat.”

“The cat?”

But the little girl didn’t explain.

“Come. Let’s find your grownups.”

The Darning Needles

2010-07-23T07:08:00.000-07:00

Some years ago I embroidered a Darning Needle resting on the stem of a cattail. I have liked Darning Needles since childhood summers spent watching them hover over Mud Pond, the pond on my grandparents' land. There was a not too muddy gravel approach into the water and the pond was large enough to be mostly clear.

The Darning needles stayed with me. Also called Damsel Flies and Dragon Flies, they have been much the same since prehistoric times. In the fairy tale, when Swamp Walking Woman is weary with walking through water and mud, a whole tribe of Darning Needles show up to weave for her a swamp grass path onto an island that appears as if by magic. Such "helpers" are common characters in fairy tales.

Swamp Walking Woman is now available on amazon.com.

This book is also available for distribution to libraries. Just ask your public library to get it.

The story can be read for fun and it can be read for deeper meaning about the misguided guys who are suppressing the people of earth and how we women and men can find the strength to keep our green earth green.

I'll write more soon about fairy tales, myths, and fables. Also, tall tales.

Happy summer days to all. Trish

2010-07-09T13:57:00.000-07:00

This is the right weather for a trip to the ocean. Seems it is always cooler at the shore. My brother and I recently traveled to Land's End on Bailey Island. We took many great pictures. This is one of the best.

Swamp Walking Woman longed for land as solid at that granite and for water as clear as that expanse of blue. Swamp Walking Woman didn't set out to be a heroine. She was just helping a neighbor when she got lost in the swamp--and found a bunch of lost families. Her story is an allegory of modern times told in the style of ancient stories such as myths and fairy tales. The book is a tall tale like the tales of Paul Bunyan and Pecos Bill. Or it can be seen as a modern fable in the tradition of George Orwell and James Thurber.

The book is about women's strength. Stay tuned for launch date and find out how Swamp Walking Woman inspires a community to resist oppression and protect their children.

More soon. Trish

Bailey Island Ledges, photograph taken from Land's End.

This Is Exciting!

2010-06-18T12:14:00.000-07:00

Many of you have been asking when Swamp Walking Woman will be released. We are getting all our frogs lined up--uh, maybe we should have used ducks!

One of the things I liked best about writing this book was remembering all the woodland flowers I loved in my childhood roaming near our farm in Maine. Here's a lovely trillium my grandson discovered near his great-grandparents' house. Children have an enormous capacity for wonder. They grace the world with joy. Find out how grace comes into the story of Swamp Walking Woman and the little lost girl she befriends.

Keep watch here for launch date.

City Gardens

2010-06-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

Spring and Summer

The raised bed on the left is now brimming with peas, above.

There are more than 50 community gardens in New Haven, plots here and there where caring neighbors grow food for community kitchens. The generosity of spirit shown by these gardeners should be celebrated. They are a group dedicated to green living, to feeding folks, and to creating on our planet a hope and a determination that we will survive and prosper. There is no better answer to oppression and foolishness in high places than simply to flourish and live good lives such as we dream possible when we are children. This blog is dedicated to the Seventh Generation.

My book Swamp Walking Woman shows a community who must confront bossy "gators" and rally to take back the land on which to garden and prosper. Watch here for launch date.

In Times Like These

2010-06-11T16:32:00.000-07:00

The oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico makes me feel I need to be stronger, to have more answers, especially about how to stop greed and money from making wrong decisions about our planet. There are people in positions of power who are crazy enough to harm this planet beyond repair.

My book Swamp Walking Woman is about a woman who faces those monsters and inspires a world of troubled people to take a stand.

We used to sing a song in Sunday School that went like this, "In times like these you need an anchor." Of course, the anchor was meant to be faith, and we know faith can do miracles such as bring better health. Self confidence is a kind of faith, faith in oneself and one's own ability to do hard things.

Swamp Walking Woman launch date to be announced soon. Keep an eye on this blog.

Book Launch

2010-05-11T14:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Fans,

For those of you who have been waiting for news of Swamp Walking Woman, this fun fairy tale is ready to go!

I want to make a game of it. I want to be Best Selling Author on Amazon for one hour.

In a few days I will set a launch date and hour. I'll let you know so you can get your copies then or as close to the hour as possible. I'll be emailing, making videos, and sending out news releases. Stay tuned! Trish

A Grandmother's Quick Trip

2010-04-05T16:55:00.001-07:00

When my daughter-in-law signed up for Skype she urged me to join, too. We looked forward to an on-line visit. Life went on for a time, all of us busy people. But tonight while I was working at the computer she called me on Skype. I answered. Soon we were on exchange video, she and my grandson looking at me while I could see them clearly. He was eating cheese, he told me. Later, I offered him an imaginary cookie and he accepted. Yum!

And there I was right in their home looking at my grandson--and he could see me! I took from the wall a ceramic print of his Papa's hand, made in kindergarten, and held it up to the screen. He placed his hand over it.

My daughter-in-law and I showed each other around our new homes, having both moved lately. What a treat to have her walk me through her house, the good spaces in and out. What fun to show her my apartment. I feel like I just got home from there! Quick trip.

Measures of a Life Well-Lived

2010-02-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

I invite you to celebrate an amazing life. My dad (age 96) is in the hospital ICU and on the mend. He had some gallstones melted down and is beginning to drink broth (asking for a hot dog!). A couple of days ago he was cold. The nurses wrapped him in a blanket and took care to tuck his feet in. He said, "You better get a rope and tie 'em so they won't get away!" The nurses compete to take care of him, he's such a pleasure. My brother goes up every day to sit with him and my sister took Mom up yesterday. I am grateful for such a brother and sister. I am grateful for such wonderful parents. I thought after the Red Sox won a couple of World Series Dad would decide to shove off, but he keeps finding reasons to stay around!

Those who know Dad have seen him re-invent himself several times in this life. When he was a young man he raised his first flock of roosters to sell on the market and paid off the farm's back taxes, to my ailing grandfather's huge delight. When the poultry business got tough, Dad installed automatic feeders and a grain mill, bought all the ingredients from the mid-west, and hired a trucker to bring soy, wheat, etc. from the train station in Lisbon Falls to the dumping pit on the farm. At that point he was one of only four independent poultry farmers in Maine, and he stayed in business even in the bad years. He served on and sometimes chaired the state Poultryman's Association.

While he was farming he sometimes worked at the gypsum mill to supplement the family income. He also substituted as a rural mail carrier. He was elected to the Board of Selectmen and later served as Chair. When he tired of calculating carloads of ingredients for chicken mash, he went to school and became a tax assessor/building inspector for the town of Gray where he worked until the age of 70. As we know, taxes can be touchy. People would come in hot about their assessments. Dad would say, "Come into my office. I'll show you how I got those figures." People knew he was fair and they knew he would never get riled. He was beloved at the town offices.

My brother, meanwhile, planted and tended a large garden with Dad’s help and lots of canning and freezing from Mom. When Dad retired he devoted himself to tending his pine trees and raising vegetables and berries. I think a lot of the longevity of my parents can be explained by the homegrown vegetables they ate summer and winter all their lives. I have to work very hard finding "real food" and I pay a lot to eat as well as they eat. Further, it's really true that behind this successful man is a strong and loving wife. Dad has always said that my mother's companionship meant a lot to him. Please celebrate with me this amazing life.

Strength for Girls and Women

2010-01-22T12:49:00.000-08:00

I owe much to my writing teachers. Pat Carr is a teacher who encourages girls and women to write, to write honestly, and to find their strength through writing. Susan Baugh guides women writers to use the healing wisdom in the patterns honored by ancient fairy tales. Both teachers help women to face today's problems with strength and perseverance.

Swamp Walking Woman is a serious story and a playful story written to give strength and insight to any who feel "swamped" or overwhelmed with today's environmental and relationship issues. And the sorry state of the environment is about relationships. One of my sons, coming home from a band practice in which the musicians had argued about the songs and about who had the say, commented, "You think it's about a band, but it's always, always about relationships."

Life today is about finding method and strength to handle the bullies who harm our green planet, our only home.

Swamp Walking Woman will be published before the end of February. Watch for a date.

The Darning Needles

2010-01-03T12:23:00.000-08:00

What did Swamp Walking Woman feed the Darning Needles?

She whistled sharply and called out, “Darn it!” Instantly there appeared a cloud of the Darning Needles who had befriended her many months before. In a fever of activity they set to work sewing the sides of the water against the shores. While they worked the woman stood with one foot planted on the shore of each island, holding each part in its place. Soon the tapestry was finished. She bowed. With her own needle and thread she sewed in a stretch of swamp flowers and grasses that were home to the insects Darning Needles like best. --from Swamp Walking Woman, publication date January 2010.

Darning is an activity of the past. Not that my socks last very well these days, but I don't darn thread back and forth over the holes in the heels as I used to when I was a child. I remember the wooden "egg" on a stick, how it was placed inside the sock and used to hold the form of the toe or heel. If the hole was very large, you had to catch the darning thread in the good cloth and weave back and forth, up and down across the hole, creating a patch of new cloth. The whole activity of darning socks makes sense when you consider that often the socks themselves were home knit and not to be thrown out lightly.

The dragon flies my mother called Darning Needles were small with thin blue and black needle-shaped bodies. They didn't sting or pester us in any way so we came to enjoy watching them skim over the water or buzz among the cattails.

A Word about Knee Injuries

2009-12-31T08:18:00.000-08:00

At left, see my left knee doing its work, back on the team.

For those who have injured a knee or had knee surgery.

There are many kinds of knee injuries. All will require therapy when the knee is sufficiently healed.

My fall smacked the left knee hard into the pavement. The joint hyper-extended violently, tearing the tissue to mush. The fall cracked the knee bone, but that was the least of my troubles. My knee said, “Okay, if that’s how you treat me, I don’t want to be your knee anymore.” It refused to bear my weight.

For a month I had to keep the knee immobile so the bone could heal. Then the therapy began. At first I could only bend my knee at a 55 degree angle. The therapist gave me a printout of about ten exercises, which I did faithfully for weeks and months. Here is what I learned.

1) Keep up the exercises until you can grab your ankle and bring your heel to your butt. Don’t stop until you have back full flexibility. (After a while I found that my Iyengar Yoga routine included the therapy.)

2) Get your gait back. A leg injury can make you limp, waddle or walk with short steps as if on ice. Don’t settle for that. Get back to the confident walk you had before your injury. Walk a lot. Get back to any and every activity you loved before your injury. For me, that August hike, six months after I fell, was the triumph that said, My knee is back on the team and I’m back among the able!

3) Regular Chiropractic adjustments speed the healing by keeping open the nerve channels to the injured area.

Swamp Walking Woman

2009-12-24T11:40:00.000-08:00

Here's what the book looks like. And here's an excerpt:

Reluctantly, but with renewed energy, they said goodbye to the land and walked forward into the muddy swamp. For a time the only sound was the swish of the woman’s skirt against the water. Then all around began the croaking of frogs. Glug-a-glug. Glug-a-glug. Glug-a-glug. Alert, Futura looked with round eyes wherever she heard a glug. As they passed by, the frogs stopped croaking and jumped into the water. All except one, who stayed on a partially submerged lily pad and stared at them crossly. One of his legs was wound round with fishing line.

“He’s caught!” said Futura.

Swamp Walking Woman put Futura down. The girl got her footing on the muddy bottom and approached the frog, who sat at the height of her chest. The lily pad and the frog’s leg were twisted together.

“Frog, don’t be afraid. I will help you.”

She gently untwisted the line.

Freed, he splashed into the water and rose to the surface. “My name is Shout. If ever you are in trouble, call my name and I will come.”

“Good-bye, Shout,” said Futura as the frog disappeared beneath the water.

“Well done,” said Swamp Walking Woman.

“Now I have a friend,” said Futura.

“Yes.”

Responses to Swamp Walking Woman

I like [the] character Swamp Walking Woman and the generosity of the renewal that happens among the community. This reminds me of the "medicine tales" of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, as well as the mountain folk tales I grew up with. LB

[Patricia Lapidus is] truly a gifted story teller, and I’m honored to have been among the first readers of Swamp Walking Woman. HL

Patricia has written a story of gentleness and strength in an uncertain place full of fantasy and love. Her characters are eager, opening to nature as a bud opens to a full flower. –Arlene S. Bice, author of Life & Labyrinth

Publication of Swamp Walking Woman to be announced here in January.

What Would Swamp Walking Woman Have Done?

2009-11-10T14:23:00.000-08:00

What would Swamp Walking Woman have done with The Farm's Laundry? Since she is a larger than life figure like Paul Bunyan, she would probably have diverted a river right through the laundromat. And since Swamp Walking Woman had many helpers as in ancient fairy tales, a flock of birds would have appeared to hang the clothes in the trees for drying.

Swamp Walking Woman is a tall tale, a modern myth, and a fairy tale. Coming out soon.

For updates on Sweet Potato Suppers, go to http://hippiesincommunity.wordpress.com/

Meanwhile, I spent my weekend with family, including grandkids. With my son and grandson, I visited the land that was once The New York Farm. Watch for pictures.

Sweet Potato Suppers

2009-09-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

Watch for the re-publication of Sweet Potato Suppers coming out this fall. Among many treasures you'll find a glossary of hippie speak. Stay tuned.

Simple Web Tech for Writers

2009-07-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

For a free copy of Simple Web Tech for Writers, please send your email to patricialapidus@sbcglobal.net. Write free tech in the subject line.

Good Review of Red Hen's Daughters

2009-07-13T07:07:00.000-07:00

A writer I respect read my book of poems Red Hen's Daughters and was so impressed he couldn't talk about anything else! When he puts some comments in writing, I'll post them.

Observation

2009-06-02T12:38:00.000-07:00

A friend asks, "Can we believe anything, or is it better to believe nothing except what we experience ourselves?"

The question got me thinking about observation and self-trust. For much of my life I didn't trust my own observations--I had been thoroughly invalidated for stating some of these out loud. I thought I had to have a guru to set me straight. People would say, "You have within you everything you need to know." I'd look around inside my mind and say, "No I don't. Nothing but confusion there." So I think observation comes in two steps and the first is to rehabilitate our own ability to observe. The second is to observe with integrity and courage. And not to get scared off by second hand warnings the purpose of which is to scare and nullify us.

For me it was a matter of figuring out who to trust and even just how far to trust them, hopefully long enough to get my own feet under me. I tend to trust hopeful things and mistrust downers. Sometimes I overshoot and have to revise my trust of someone and something. I'm forever grateful to The Farm and to Stephen and to each and every person I lived with or worked with on The Farm. I was able to bring myself up to a level of awareness I don't think I would have achieved without that experience. By the time I saw the limits of our vision and practice, I was able to sort it out without throwing away the sweet truth of what we lived. Since then I have grown my powers of observation and refined my search while still maintaining the integrity of our vision. We spiritual hippies made a powerful difference.

Nothing is true for you unless you have observed it yourself. Love, Patricia

Patricia/Trish Lapidus
Writing Consultant, Life Coach, Author

Including Sweet Potato Suppers, a New eBook
and Long Awaited, Swamp Walking Woman

http://swampwalkingwoman.blogspot.com

Everyone Can Write

2009-05-29T12:38:00.001-07:00

This is my family and writing blog. It's informal. I invite your comments.

I am a writer and an encourager of writing. Whether you keep a journal for yourself alone or write professionally, I am cheering. I love words and all we are able to do with words.

This is the cover of my book of poems, Red Hen's Daughters, available from amazon.com.

It has never been easier to get feedback from other writers on the net. My latest discovery is a site called thenextbigwriter. People post their work and read and critique for one another. The standard of encouragement and good guidance is very high. Before that I found divinecaroline. This is just to name two. There are more.

Then, when your work is ready, you no longer have to court a traditional publisher if you don't want to. Even if you do publish with a traditional house, you still have to do your own marketing. So, I'm learning how to market my books--and learning what people want to read. There is nothing worth writing unless readers find it worth reading. I will shortly have specific guidance to offer about publishing and marketing your products.

Tell me what your interests are, what you want to read about. Contact me at

patricialapidus@sbcglobal.net

I will send you a gift. Write "gift" in the subject line so I won't miss your email. Love, Trish

Let's Get to Know One Another

2009-05-29T12:28:00.001-07:00

And now the CD. Available soon from kunaki.

This is a text CD created with samples from my books. I took the cover picture during cherry blossom season from the street where I live . In the background is West Rock Ridge where I love to hike. The state park offers miles of trails, some up to the top, others around Wintergreen lake.

This is a "you can do this, too" CD.

Red Hen's Daughters

2009-05-29T12:03:00.001-07:00

A Red Hen/Red Letter day! My father raised a few different varieties of chickens over the years. The earliest pictures I have, which were taken on the Oak Hill farm, show a mix of black chickens and white chickens. Later he kept Barred Rocks, whose white feathers were striped with black, a series of bars. But my favorites were the Rhode Island Reds with shiny rust-red feathers. The roosters sported long red tail feathers and some iridescent green ones. I could see why they walked so proud.

My book of poems, most of which have been previously published in a number of literary magazines, takes a grownup look at a farm childhood. Why were the hens not allowed to raise their own chicks? That was our top concern--until we noticed the slaughter.

While you are keeping an eye out for the poetry volume, watch also for my CD of samplings. The text tells writers how simple and easy it was to publish the CD. And it gives excerpts from my books. First, the revised edition of Sweet Potato Suppers. Then, a scene from Swamp Walking Woman, a fantasy novel about the strength of women in modern times. At the end of the CD are the first two chapters of Gideon's River, a novel about family.

You could use this method of writing and publishing to introduce yourself and your business or hobby. Keep an eye on my blog for the release of both.

And may your summer be blessed. Trish

The Currency That Is Not Money

2009-04-14T05:57:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against money. I like it and use it happily.

Money is just a symbol of energy, one that can be used honestly or not.

I'm reminded of some of Mark Twain's stories. There was a pattern to them. Two or three knaves would come to town and trick the innocent villagers--we'll call them fools, meaning no disrespect--out of their hard earned savings, offering health or heaven, the two immortalities for which any of us will trade our life's work.

There is another currency, and that is community. By community I don't mean a structured "intentional" community, though those can be done, honestly or not. I mean the more fluid set of connections available to us all in a variety of circumstances, whether inherited where we have stayed put or created where we have wandered and settled.

In these difficult financial times, it is good to remember that less than a hundred years ago people didn't use money as their primary means of survival. They used their farms, on which they could take care of themselves, and they used cooperation, helping one another at harvest and through the winter. As an example, my parents and aunts and uncles spent a week every November hunting deer in northwestern Maine. They were good hunters and they came home with their quota of deer, which the uncles dressed and the aunts packed in freezer paper, a box to go home with every family.

I'm not suggesting we all take up deer hunting, although deer have overrun Connecticut to such an extent that here hunting is a choice for those so inclined.

I'm talking about that other less tangible currency, trust and mutual help among neighbors, something to cherish and preserve if you have it, or, if you've been going it alone, something to create with your own offers of assistance to others.

Don't let an economic downturn distress you. It will be hardest on those who have depended too much on others to create work for them. You CAN make money. You CAN create paying work for yourself. More important, you can create a caring community right where you are by inquiring about your neighbors and offering your help. It's okay to pick and choose. I'm not suggesting you try to help those who are already dedicated to failure. Simply, among your friends and neighbors, find the ones who can use your help to get themselves stable. Helping these is like putting money in the bank, for they will value you and help you when you need it.

Don't wait until your own need is severe to begin building trust. Do it now while you have energy to spare. Here are some ways:

1) Get to know your immediate neighbors, choose those who want to win and make mutual agreements about how to support one another.

2) Find a good group that is already helping and pitch in. Become part of the team. As an example, check out Plenty at www.thefarm.org

3) Check on the members of your family, decide which ones are interested in winning, and help any who need help.

4) If you are interested in permaculture villages or ecovillages, look these up and learn how they work. Go to www.thefarm.org

5) Help children. They are our future. For resources for parents and those interested in improving the lives of children

Click Here!

There are many ways to create community. Common to all of them is becoming known as someone who can be counted upon.

Ask me questions or let me know how it goes. tjworks09@live.com

Heart and Help for Parents

2009-02-18T07:27:00.000-08:00

Being a parent can be confusing and frustrating. Don't feel bad about not knowing what no one ever told you. There is help available now! Nicole McKenzie is my favorite. She offers free e-classes and many helpful ideas. She makes you feel like, yes, you can do this!

Follow this link:

Click Here!

Children Love to Help

2008-12-23T07:25:00.001-08:00

When his parents bought a new grill last summer, Zachary, 18 months, decided to help put it together. His father snapped this picture. Well, snapped is not quite the word for it. Noah knows how to get down on the child's level and get in close.

He caught a precious moment. I love the look of concentration.

Having grandchildren reminds me of life with my own children, how eager they were to be able and to make a contribution. Small children are both exuberantly playful and very earnest. They know their parents do a lot for them and they need to do their share. Doing one's part is apparently wired in. When Noah was a baby sitting in a swing with a tray for toys, he would regularly throw his toys overboard or inadvertantly lose them. Big brother Benjamin would pick them up for him tirelessly. And now we have Chanan, Zachary's cousin, planning to put the socks and booties on their next baby. Both children put in an honest day's work each and every day. It's enchanting, and sobering, to watch.

For more information about children, child development, and how to help children, including holiday craft ideas, scroll down to the articles and links below. And enjoy the season.

Trish/aka Swamp Walking Woman

2008-12-11T06:26:00.000-08:00

I created a tree of lights from a piece of plywood and a few nails on which to hang a rope and lights and ornaments.

For laughter and holiday gift ideas, read below.

Love, Trish

EARTH'S DARING SWING AWAY FROM THE LIGHT AND BACK

2008-11-25T12:32:00.000-08:00

Although our weather is mild again after some chilly days, we see each day getting shorter. I'm convinced that one reason for lights and celebration during the shortest days of the year is to distract us from darkness. Still, darkness has its benefits of retreat and gathering round the hearth. Once when I lived in Cambridge, MA, I attended a Winter Solstice celebration I will never forget. It seemed very English, with Elizabethan old scale music and jesters and tumblers in colorful costumes with bells on their turned up toes. I enjoyed the pageant enormously!

As for the turned up toes, I read in a novel recently--I've already forgotten which one but it could have been by Georgette Heyer, a superb writer--that shoe toes made in that style did not kick up mud as other toes do.

For those of you who are looking for special gifts for friends and loved ones, here are a few I've found for you and mentioned in past posts:

FOR THE PARENTS ON YOUR LIST: Nicole MacKensie's ebook and on line class. There is no work more sacred than raising children. See the curiosity based parenting method. No punishment. Free e-class. Learn to set rules and consequences that develop respect naturally… Plus have fun in the process.

http://patricia77.momhasfun.hop.clickbank.net

FOR THE GIFT OF LAUGHTER: Start with James Siew's ebook of humor. Click Here!

FOR YOUR WRITER FRIENDS: Good nuts and bolts advice. HOW TO WRITE AND PUBLISH YOUR OWN E-BOOK by Jim Edwards and Joe Vitale. Click Here!

Enjoy the benefits of darkness and the celebration of light! Trish/SwampWalkingWoman

SURVEY

2008-11-13T06:11:00.000-08:00

PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO RESPOND TO THESE THREE QUESTIONS. SEND YOUR RESPONSE TO MY EMAIL BOX: triciajean1@yahoo.com

1) What do you need most from an encouraging and informative blog? That is, what one thing stands between you and the happiness and success you deserve?

2) What do you want to find out more about? (What the heck is this thing called life? The internet? How to prosper? Raising children? Other?)

3) Tell me about you. I love to hear about my readers and their lives. Your stories help me know how to help you the most.

I'll thank you by sending a fr_ee gift. Best, Trish/Swamp Walking Woman

THANKSGIVING MAGIC

2008-11-11T14:53:00.000-08:00

Hello! to all my friends on the World Wide Web. Connecticut, USA, is a lot cooler today than the last time I posted. Halloween has come and gone. On the trail by the brook yellow and red maple leaves lie on the ground while burnished oak leaves gleam in the afternoon sun, their turn to shine. To everything its season.

From our different cultures we approach the holiday season, preparing for Thanksgiving in the US. Most of us know now that the first Thanksgiving was created in the 1870s. (If you doubt this, see Lies My Teacher Told Me by James Loewen.) Yet, for many, the tradition of sitting down to a special meal among family and friends has gathered a meaning and warmth all its own. We don’t need it to have been factual in origin. A few of us are even willing to admit that our ancestors weren’t nearly as nice about moving to these shores as the writers of grade school text books wanted us to think.

One of the hardest lessons I have had to learn is that my own forebears committed crimes against humanity when they settled New England. It was not a peaceful migration. Perhaps that is why peace is still so hard to achieve. And why I’m dedicated to promoting world peace.

After Thanksgiving, families begin to prepare for Hanukah, for Kwanza, for Christmas, and sometimes Ramadan, depending on the year. We become more prayerful than ever for peace across the planet. And now, with internet communication, peace is possible. That is why I’m offering you a chance not only to enjoy the holidays and pray for peace, but to do activities that create peace and safety in your own families and neighborhoods.

We seem to have brought forward into present day life many of the less than satisfying behaviors of past generations. If you are part of a family where a holiday gathering can become tense, argumentative, or rowdy, if you worry about how you and others will behave during visiting, consider how you will speak and listen to others. Because I know busy people don’t have time to look for the resources they need, I’ve been trolling the internet for you. Here are some treasures:

1) An inexpensive course in simple communication to get you started on a peaceful holiday season.

Click Here!

2) For parents dedicated to raising happy free children, here is the Happy Free Children, Teachers and Parents Resource Kit, helps the children you nurture honor their innate wisdom and respect those they live amongst as well as their planet home.

Click Here!

3) One way to promote peace in the family is to keep children busy with projects they enjoy. Here are some suggestions I found for you on Little Kid Crafts.

Click Here!

4) And an exciting resource on arts and crafts for grownups,

Click Here!

5) Beyond the holidays, and by beyond, I mean transcendent in its appeal, Michael Harvey has put together some information we can really use. This is for anyone who wants to go easy on planetary resources and save mega-money on electric bills. His mission: To educate communities and individuals on how to live a more comfortable, cost effective, and pro-planet lifestyle. Learn how to build your own inexpensive solar panels and wind mills. See in these pages how to build a more efficient life, one that is kind to the planet and to your pocketbook.

Click Here!

It’s clear to see why this last one would promote peace by helping us consume less and give back more. Happy Holidays to All. Trish, also know as Swamp Walking Woman

Ps. Send me your email and I'll send you a fr_ee gift. triciajean1@yahoo.com

BOOK WATCH

2008-10-26T13:18:00.000-07:00

SWEET POTATO SUPPERS:

A Yankee Woman Finds Salvation in a Hippie Village

by Patricia Lapidus

Spiritual Hippies? These were the clean long-hairs, the ones who lived on the land, worked hard, and meditated to a joyful Ooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! that rose up through the trees and the golden morning air!”

Peace and Harmony. In this book you will discover how strangers lived together tribally—crowded and without running water or refrigeration—in peace and sanity far above the social norm. You will learn how the government watched and how that watching influenced the survival of the community.

A Gift for You. Here you will find information to help you live better with your own family and with those you may take into your home in an effort to lessen economic burdens.

Birth: You will see spiritual birth based on respect for the holy child and family.

Community: The community called The Farm was an attempt to stitch back together the torn fabric of social living, to make life fair and honest and safe. As for living green, we used to say, “Tread lightly on the earth.” Today we say, “Reduce your carbon footprint. For more green, Click Here!

Brief video about the book: temporarily not available.

Responses to Sweet Potato Suppers:

“I finished Sweet Potato Suppers and passed it on to a friend who passed it on to a friend. We all LOVE it. It's a real piece of history, documenting the Farm and community life in general. I especially appreciate your courage….” M

“I don't know HOW you have remembered so many little details about life on the Farm and all your experiences with everyone….And I find myself in you so often. My experiences and reactions - and I'll bet most of ours - were so similar to those you describe. What a riot! We've come a long way, Baby….Love the drawings too.“ ST

“Then a few more pages and I sat back and said, damn. This woman can write!.... This is not just history, this is poetry. This is ideas on the carrier wave of words. She is expressing thoughts I have expounded in conversation (as recently as yesterday to a reporter from Chicago) but never committed to paper, or seen in print. Amazing stuff, really, the diamond jewel in the lotus. The early days in the mud and cold and tents was the essence of the experience, that which was truly ineffable and utopian. You didn’t just tell it. You told it with style, you told it definitively. You made a mark, you set down the marker.” AB

i love your book!!!!
i'm almost done, & i want it to go on forever......
it's so thoughtful & thought provoking
thank you cc

You obviously did take delight in the simple moments of joy. I think it's so important that everybody gets to tell their stories now, it's what heals. And how wonderful for your children to read the stories. Thank you for writing your book, Patricia. CO

Be of good cheer! The Farm is still here. Furthermore, many of the members of The Farm, both those living on the land and the diaspora, are still committed to alternative birth and health and death, and to freedom, political and personal. They work actively to promote social change. For further information see www.thefarm.org

E-Book coming soon. Watch for Sweet Potato Suppers, eBook, audio book, and soft cover book, to be announced here soon.

COMMUNITY: RECIPE FOR HARD TIMES

2008-10-16T06:29:00.000-07:00

Here is balm for the worried, excitement for the playful, and hope for all.

At right, our copy of Hey, Beatnik. We read it cover to cover, savored the bright pictures of people working together in the fields, and kept it by our bedside like a holy book. In time we went to live on The Farm. Many of the friendships we formed there have lasted to this day.

I know that your lives are not easy, that you are concerned about the survival of your loves ones. Long ago I read that one of the most important ingredients for survival in difficult times is good relationships. A tribal leader in the moving book Rainbow Moon by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas makes this statement: Give me twenty people and I can get us through the winter. The survival of that little group depended on the efforts and cooperation of all members. Trust is about relationships.

The advice to look to our relationships struck a cord with me. If I were there with you, having breakfast and talking about the day ahead, I would see your face and posture, hear your voice tones, notice your movements. You might look cheerful, and we would smile together and share our excitements about the day ahead. If you looked dispirited I would give you my unhurried attention. I would invite you to tell me your thoughts and encourage you to have a winning day anyway. Or you would encourage me and share your knowledge of how to improve life, on purpose, no matter what.

My book Sweet Potato Suppers, due out before Thanksgiving, will help, especially in the relationships upon which your good survival may depend. Watch for it in the coming weeks, revised and updated since it was first published in 2003: SWEET POTATO SUPPERS: A Yankee Woman Finds Salvation in a Hippie Village. Ebook, audiobook, and softcover.

Ways to go forward:

1) First, tell your story. Write, talk, and publish if you like. Ask me what I know about writing, sharing, and publishing. Watch my progress as I learn the ropes. Your story matters.

2) Second, look at community as normal living. I experienced one that, having changed with the changing years, continues to thrive.

Some of us will solve problems of shrinking resources by sharing housing. We will take in our children or neighbors. We need to know how to live, possibly crowded, in peace and mutual help. We need the arts and crafts of survival, of sustainable living, of growing food, and--that magnet that pulls it all together--the art of relating.

Previous posts. For a joyful look at stone towers found on the trail, for information about raising healthy and happy children, eBook publishing, learning language, laughter, and more, please scroll down or click the article title on the right. I invite you to comment.

Note: The subtitle to Hey, Beatnik is This is the Book about The Farm. Stephen Gaskin and The Farm. (Beatniks were precursors to hippies. Hippie started as a pejorative but was adopted and given honor by The Farm, a community of spiritual hippies.)

STONE LIGHT LIKE DANCERS

2008-10-14T05:24:00.000-07:00

HIGH ON WEST ROCK RIDGE...

Hiking in Heaven

2008-10-13T16:16:00.001-07:00

Some god or goddess, perhaps several, visited one of my favorite trails since I last walked here. High on West Rock Ridge a gathering of cairns appeared overnight--as if they had scheduled a meeting and were now in session. Or, perhaps a coven of witches celebrated the fall solstice here. They had made it into a magical place.

I spent some time there admiring the forms--the balancing, the beauty, the work of such exhuberant play. I pictured the slow, grunting frolic of lifting and arranging the stones, the conspiracy of preparing this extravagant surprise for unknown hikers. The sheer audacity of bidding stone to appear light like dancers. For these were not broad based cairms meant to withstand the winter winds that would push along the ridge. They were single stones set verticle, three, five, seven stones together marching skyward. Why they did not topple I could not say except that the creator had told them to stay. I was unwilling to touch one with the lightest finger.

At first they blended with the surrounding forest. I saw two, three, six. The more I looked, the more structures I saw. I walked quietly, respectfully, peering around me. There was a rock balanced high on the stump of a lost branch of a tree. One composition included found objects, a rusty saw and an old bottle.

There was a feeling of worship to the place. Something both sweet and powerful had been made, a sacred grove.

Book Suggestion

2008-10-07T15:48:00.000-07:00

About Symbolia by Sylvia Anderson

Symbolia is a humorous and inspiring story of a sister and brother from our world who journey to the magical world of Symbolia, where they find that they must follow the Sacred Path to get back Home. Along the way they are captured by the Abbo tribe in the MotherLung Rainforest, encounter the diapered dictators at the Gulf of Simonsez, carry burdenbags for the Zaards, .who live at the top of the pyramid city of Dogmapolis, and interact with stressed-out Morstuffians in the Forest of Berbs, Their Path leads them into Krule City, owned by the Giants of Induss Tree, then on to adventures with the Neggies in the Deep Depression and into Shadow’s Underground Maze to dig for the Gold of Self-Understanding. Then it’s on to GoldenMean to find Grandmother Sophia, who takes them to the New Treeno See, where they help create a new PrahBubble for the world of Symbolia before returning Home, where they can apply their new understandings to life here on Earth. It's a fun adventure story for children of all ages, a spiritual allegory for adults with ears to hear, and a socio-political satire for those with eyes to see.

More at:

www.symboliabook.com

HEALTH: HEALING FROM INJURIES

2008-08-11T04:54:00.000-07:00

Health, Laughter, and Persistance

Good morning from New Haven, CT, where we have a mix of sun and clouds with a few more thundershowers likely today.

I am not a health professional. Far from it. I'm so interested in simply living that I will run my body as far as it will go without attention. But I have needed to learn certain basic health strategies, such as eating vegetables for breakfast (hey, it works for me!) and how to handle a lifelong problem with yeast. Sarah Summer's eBook Natural Cure for Yeast Infections rounds up the data nicely.

Click Here!

But this blog is about what I learned about healing from a knee injury. In a word, persist.

A week ago we had perfect weather for a hike. I was used to doing a five mile loop every Monday, but that was before I fell on my left knee, cracked the knee bone, and traumatized the entire joint. All the tissues were involved. My knee was so sore, and so disappointed in me for not taking better care of it, it didn't want to be a knee anymore. I wore a knee brace for a month and then started therapy. At first the knee would only bend about 45 degrees. I did LOTS of exercises! Reluctantly at first, and then with more enthusiasm, the knee decided, Well, all right, I'll be your knee again.

I vowed I would take my first hike by early May. On May 3rd I walked the two and a half miles around Wintergreen Lake, a lovely easy gradient hike. And now, with my Monday trip up around West Rock, I'm fully back to hiking! Enjoy a few of the sights with me. Like this picture of Judges Cave where a couple of Connecticut judges hid out in 1661 after siding with the losers in England's political wars.

I can now grab my ankle and bring left my knee up to my butt just as I do my right knee. One thing I decided during the course of this healing time: I do not ever want to be disabled. What good is life on earth if you're not in the action?

Bringing the topic back to general health, remember to laugh. Have a look at James Siew's eLaughter. This fun ebook is worth the price just for the jaunty music--but don't try to read it while eating! These jokes will clear your sinuses. Click Here!

What am I doing these days?

Getting Sweet Potato Suppers ready for republication as an eBook.

Writing articles and reviews for eZines.

Taking pictures of my grandkids and the wide world around. (Some of the kid pictures in my blog were taken by my daughter-in-law.)

Looking for a good laptop with camcorder and voice recorder.

Keeping connected with family and friends, so wonderfully easy with email and other websites such as facebook.

Happy Trails, from Swamp Walking Woman

GRADING EGGS WITH THE RED SOX

2008-08-06T10:22:00.000-07:00

Do you have a favorite memory of spending time with your dad? Are you responsible for helping your kids succeed in sports? I have written an article for a baseball magazine, included in part below. Because of how my dad taught me to appreciate the game of baseball, I began thinking about how fathers encourage their daughters. I found a great link about teaching girls to play net ball.

Click Here! From the point of view of health, emotional health, family cohesiveness, and just plain fun, this eBook is a must.

My dad, age 95 this year, is in mourning for his team, the Boston Red Sox. After the good years together, Manny Ramirez should have treated the team better. (Manny was recently traded to the Dodgers because he quit trying for the Sox.) Dad himself has treated the Red Sox with the utmost respect, cheering faithfully for almost a century from his armchair and in the thick of farm chores accompanied by the radio. Cheering for his team to win a World Series.

I used to pack eggs for my dad. We owned a big poultry farm and there were always baskets of eggs waiting in the cooling room to be sorted and placed into egg cases that held thirty-two dozen each. He loved my company. Plus, we had the Red Sox. I’m sure he decided when to grade eggs by when the game came on. This picture shows him with me before I was much help. He seems confident I'll grow.

To grade eggs Dad first lifted a basket of eggs from the floor of the cooler to the bench. He then picked up each egg, cleaned any sawdust off it and held it to the light to make sure it was good. If another egg had broken in the nest, there might be egg yoke dried on this one. He sanded the dried yolk off with a small piece of sandpaper strapped to his fingers.

Dad switched the egg grader on and placed the eggs one at a time on a slant composed of two metal rubber-covered edges. The eggs rolled down the gentle foot long incline. From there they were moved along and balanced on wires that tripped them into different trays by weight. My job was to put the eggs in the correct cases.

By now the game would be in full swing and Dad would tell me just how Lou Boudreaux should coach. He’d brought Jimmy Piersall back too soon after injury or he should fine Jimmy for throwing his cap at him—which I think he did. Dad and Boudreau often agreed. Dad said he should keep Ted Williams in cleanup position and Boudreau did. Later he said it was time to put Frank Malzone fourth in the lineup. When Boudreau did just that, Dad was satisfied he had influence. By the time I was twelve I knew the lineup and their batting averages. I also knew a wonderful father who could get excited about hiking up Mt. Katahdin, about getting the hay in before a storm, and about baseball. I knew that life was good, that there was much happening of interest, that I could learn, that I could care, that I was beloved.

I married a man who also loved baseball. Among Don’s baseball trivia is the story of an early player, Germany Schaefer, who stole second base in an attempt to attract a throw and allow the player on third to steal home. When that didn’t work, Schaefer stole first so he could try the ploy again! Schaefer had a reputation for being a clown and also for playing serious baseball. Sometime later a rule was made against the reverse steal, purportedly because of Schaefer’s stunt.

If you enjoy jokes and funny stories, check out James Siew's excellent joke ebook. This fun ebook is worth the price just for the jaunty music--but don't try to read it while eating! These jokes will clear your sinuses. Click Here!

Moving around in the northeast, I have sometimes cheered other teams—Yankees, Mets, and any team having a good season. I have admired many players. But when I go home and find Dad in his easy chair, the National Anthem playing, the starting signal to “Play ball!,” there is only one team to root for and we all help, cheering with Dad for the team that finally vindicated him for his years of faithful encouragement and won the World Series, twice!! Back when Manny still wanted to help.

Until next post, Swamp Walking Woman

The Woman Writer: Pat Carr's Rule #1

2008-07-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

Women writers, are you serious about publishing? The Summer Writers Conference of the International Women's Writing Guild is a nourishing scene for women writers and a place where many of us have developed publishable work. I'm grateful to Hannalore Hahn and her daughter Elizabeth Julia Stouman and the Guild's Conference crew for providing a safe place where magic happens routinely.

This year I attended Pat Carr’s class. I usually do. I like the way she guides writers and listens to their work. Pat will say, “Ah! Yes!” And she will pause to allow time for the images and dialogue, created by one precious student, to hang in the magical air.

If you know Pat, you know her Rule #1, as we fondly refer to it:

Do not write from inside the mind
of someone you have not been!

I’m writing a novel with a twelve year old boy as a main character. As soon as I wrote this line, I thought of Pat’s rule:

Gideon watched his mother’s tongue and teeth, thinking of bees, of the buzzing of bees, as her tongue flicked words through her teeth.

I came to Pat’s class because I wanted to ferret out these slips into a boy’s mind. To be honest, I don’t know what boys think or how boys think.

Students argue with Pat. We are used to reading great writers who write, with seeming success, from inside the minds of persons they have not been. Check out Isabel Allende’s The House of Spirits and The Infinite Plan. Or Amy Tan. Be puzzled, as most of Pat’s students are at first. Is there anything wrong in these books? They held me enthralled.

When students ask why not write from inside the mind of someone you have not been, Pat tells them “Because it’s immoral.”

I don’t want men to write as if they know what a woman thinks. I get indignant. It’s like when a person of privilege says they know what poverty must be like. Oh, yeah?

Pat’s Rule #1 forces me to study closely the observable details, in memory or in creative imagination. This discipline makes my work stronger.

I rewrote the short passage from Gideon’s River as follows:

Gideon’s eyes narrowed and his head moved forward a notch toward his mother.

“Stop talking!” he yelled. “There’s spit on you tongue. Your teeth are crooked. You sound like bees buzzing.”

Now when I read books by authors who get inside the minds of characters they have not been, I see this as the breech of ethics it is. I agree with Pat.

At the conference I also took a class in how to use simple photography to enhance your writing. The pictures on this page were taken on campus at Skidmore. (I’ll let you know when my full essay about Pat Carr’s Rule #1 comes out in an e-zine.)

If you are serious about publishing, check out Jim Edwards' How to Write and Publish an E-Book in 7 days or less.

Click Here!

And if you're using photography to enhance your writing, here's Tony Pages Photo Toolbox Of Creative Tools And Techniques:

Click Here!

Send me your email address. I'll send you a gift.

patricialapidus@sbcglobal.net

CHILDREN CAN HAVE ADVENTURES CLOSE TO HOME

2008-07-20T12:16:00.000-07:00

One of my grandsons is rapidly growing from toddler to little boy with all the interests of a boy. He has a small plastic turtle which he cherishes. And picture books including turtles. Turtle was one of his first words.

Recently he touched a real tortoise. This land relative of turtles was munching grass on a neighbor's lawn when my grandson and his mother, together with friends, discovered him. (See the little guy in the blue hat.) The lady who keeps the tortoise as a pet came outside to talk.

"He's only eighteen years old. They grow a lot bigger," she said. "He lives on grass so I let him out to munch on my lawn. Tortoises don't drink water. They get enough water from the grass."

My grandson was finding out how his shell felt.

Nicole McKensie has written an e-book about raising children. Her title MOM HAS TO HAVE FUN seems fullfilled in this picture where my daughter-in-law in enjoying the tortoise as much as the kids--or perhaps enjoying the kids' response to the tortoise. For a variety of ideas on how to help children, click here:

http://patricia77.momhasfun.hop.clickbank.net

McKensie feels that daily life with the questions children can raise, the conflicts they can get into, and the efforts they make to grow themselves up, should be fun for the parents. My sons and their wives enjoy children. They don't need much guidance yet, but if they did, I would recommend McKensie. In her video presentation, she smiles a lot. She has fun not only raising six children but writing and presenting this book.

I worked as nanny to a one-year-old. There was a Walgreens Store going up two blocks away. We went daily to see how the building was progressing and how the parking lot was being prepared. Backhoes, cement trucks, men shoveling cement and men leveling cement. He would watch by the hour.

When my children were in grade school they had a rare opportunity to watch a backhoe at work. In fact, they had a grandstand seat from our porch, from which they could see the city sewer line put in. Piles of dirt everywhere. Men shouting. The teeth of the big yellow backhoe's shovel biting into our lawn. It was too good to miss. I excused them from school that day. They learned more at home!

But you don't have to wait for adventures to come into your yard--or for a tortoise to walk across your neighbor's lawn. Children want to know what goes on in the area where they live. And here's where I write more from regret than from what I actually did. If I had their childhood to live again I would make appointments with an official at the fire station and give the kids a tour. I would take them to places where people work in ways that they could see and appreciate. When we went out for pizza, I would strike up a conversation with the man behind the counter rotating the circle of dough, let him talk about how he learned to do that! I would take them to visit with the mayor. Help them talk with a lifeguard at the beach about her job.

Probably I was too busy, too tired from working one full time job out of the house and another at home! Still. On those occasions when we went camping in the Catskills or spent a summer evening watching a minor league baseball game at Damaske Field--where we ate tofu pups we brought and ice cream treats we bought, saw the Franklin Mountain rise in the south and the sun set in the west--they went to bed spent and satisfied.

Till the next post. Swamp Walking Woman

LEARNING TO TALK

2008-07-03T09:41:00.000-07:00

Stuck!

My grandson, who is a year and a half old, likes to say uh-oh when something falls or when a toy doesn’t work. In fact, he enjoys saying uh-oh when nothing much is wrong or for reasons we don’t follow. Like anyone, he wants to comment on the happenings around him—with what words he knows. He is on the front end of an explosion in vocabulary. It is fascinating to watch him work at this important developmental task, one that each of us accomplished so early that we hardly recall a time when we could not talk.

With speech comes responsibility. When he fusses to get picked up, his father reminds him to say up. He does. He also says up when he wants to get down—though he says sit down when he sits to get his shoes on. He says thank you very sweetly when he presents his sippy cup for a juice refill, sure his grandmother will help him. When I open the refrigerator door, he comments, get juice.

Before he learned to talk, his mother showed him how to signal his wants. For example, when he is all done with a meal, he waves his arms sideways from the center in a gesture familiar to most of us, one that means no, enough, all done! Although he can now say all done he still uses this signal, especially when the message is urgent. Along with the signals, she talked to him a lot before he could talk, giving him her voice to study.

This week he speaks about 30 words and several phrases: all gone, balloon, ball, bubbles, up, mama, dada, bread, juice, shoes, mo-mo (more), done, baby, night-night, bye-bye, thank you, car, truck, no, uh-oh, see, hello, garbage, cup, cracker, off, nose, down. Balloon is pronounced with a lyrical rise on the second syllable. Much of his speech is almost sung. The purity of a child’s voice at this stage is holy—like the truth of his facial expressions. One morning he put several small items into an empty gallon container. Having forgotten to turn the container over and dump the pieces out, he tried to push his hand into the opening. Looking at me with grave concern, he said, stuck! Lucky I had my camera ready.

Probably he is saying more than we hear—he’s working on how to say it as well as what to say. Some of his vowels and consonants are not yet set as the English sounds they will become. Stuck and truck and clock are pronounced the same, beginning with a sound between g and k—much like the way a Spanish e is neither a short nor a long English e. The mouth is capable of making a much greater variety of sounds than those used in any one language. Each child must somehow get her mouth to form the sounds needed to pronounce the words of her caretakers. She slowly narrows the fluidity with which she begins, leaving out the many possible nuances not used in the language she must master. She begins early by cooing a range of vowels and, then, more and more the vowels she hears. Linguists can tell the difference between, for instance, the coos of a Japanese baby and those of a German infant. Realizing how early children begin practicing to talk makes me respectful of infant babble.

We veteran talkers don’t think about how we place our tongues or how much throat to put into a word, nor, for that matter, how much force is needed to execute each sound. Like many children, my grandson started saying ba for ball. His father demonstrated how to make the end of the word. He now says balla, over-pronouncing the l sound. Our English l at the end of a word like ball is pronounced so gently that a child can miss it at first and then have trouble getting just the right amount of force into it.

A person with a limited vocabulary must make every word count. Cracker also means cheerios. All gone applies equally to a tray from which he has eaten all the cheerios and to an empty clothes hamper. And bye-bye is uttered when one of his parents goes as far as the kitchen. For one of my children, broken was such a word. A torn blanket was broken. A ripped paper was broken. One morning when he was sick he said, I broken, Mommy.

The limits of vocabulary would frustrate you and me now, but we know we each tolerated not being able to talk, or not being able to express all that we wished. My grandson is rather placid, I think, considering the many things he says that we don’t yet get. For example, he speaks several phrases. The ones we have picked up on include where’d it go?, what’s this?, what’s that?, like that!, they’re there, get juice, sit down, and put it down. He sometimes utters a series of syllables we don’t catch. He’ll keep trying. It is this spirit of persistence that I admire. Toddlers have small bodies, certainly, but their courage and intentions are big as life. And who are toddlers but every one of us? Each of us made this journey. Judging by my grandson, our attitudes were awesome.

Beginning

2008-05-15T12:23:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my blog. The title, Swamp Walking Woman, is the title of a book I will publish in the weeks ahead. It's a mythic fairy tale for modern times, a tale of women's strength. More on that later.

This blog will reflect my interests: writing, community, raising able children, health, and laughter. Oh, and I'm very enthusiastic about my two small grandsons.

In 2003 I published Sweet Potato Suppers, a memoir of the decade my husband and I lived on The Farm, a community of spiritual hippies. This book will soon be available as an e-book, as well as a book and a CD. That's right. I will read you a bedtime story while you sit back and relax. This is appropriate. The book started out as a story for my children, so they would know what The Farm had to do with them and with anyone who longs for connection, community, tribal living, and living green. Like most folks, I want to provide a green earth for our children unto the seventh generation.

WRITERS: As I explore the internet for ways to write and publish, I will share my findings with you. Here's one I'm just getting into. So far it is very good nuts and bolts advice. HOW TO WRITE AND PUBLISH YOUR OWN E-BOOK by Jim Edwards and Joe Vitale. Click Here!

PARENTS: I will also share links to advice for parents. I like Nicole MacKensie's ebook and on line class. There is no work more sacred than raising children. I made mistakes and muddled through. Of course, we all learn along the way--and now, with the internet, we elders can offer our experiences to the present generation of parents. See the curiosity based parenting method. No punishment. Free e-class. Learn to set rules and consequences that develop respect naturally… Plus have fun in the process.

http://patricia77.momhasfun.hop.clickbank.net

LAUGHTER: Most everyone has had to solve health problems, especially those of us over 50. I'll share some of my discoveries and provide links to the sites that have helped me. Any thought of good health leads to the health of laughter. Start with James Siew's ebook of humor. Click Here!

I like jokes immensely. You can tell me your favorites and I'll tell you mine. I'll lead you to any great links I find for good stories, good jokes, and laughter. Yesterday I was driving in a quiet neighborhood when I looked up to see, just beyond a tall spruce tree, an orange stucco house sparkling in the sun. That house look so good I laughed out loud with only the car for audience.

Tales of the things children say and do are tops for me. Here's one. My grandson, at the age of 20 months, was just learning to jump. He would get up on a small stool, bounce up and down a few times, and carefully step down. Then he would say, "I jumped!" Now he is over two and he really does jump. Well, I'm going to imitate him. I'm just beginning to get the hang of blogging. Here's my first effort. I've bounced up and down a few times and stepped cautiously into cyberspace. Wow! I blogged!

Send me your email and I'll send you a free gift.

One more thing. If you want to earn money on the internet with a simple blog like this, I recommend Easy Writing Biz.com. Click Here!

Trish Lapidus
Ps. Check out these links.

Curiosity based parenting method. http://tinyurl.com/4f4ztz

This fun ebook is worth the price just for the jaunty music--but don't try to read it while eating! These jokes will clear your sinuses. Click Here!

Till the next post. Swamp Walking Woman