You're With Me Always

"Grief starts to become indulgent, and it doesn't serve anyone, and it's painful. But if you transform it into remembrance, then you're magnifying the person you lost and also giving something of that person to other people, so they can experience something of that person." -- Patti Smith

With over 50 years of shared memories of my beloved cousin, it's hard to pull the best ones...they're all "the best ones." But I know John Paul would agree with me when I say music has always been one of our strongest bonds.

From Boris Karloff singing "You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch," through our bubblegum days of dancing to the Archies and Tommy James, through our first rock concerts -- The Who, Queen, Peter Frampton, The Stones -- whether sitting in the last row of Madison Square Garden, or sitting in the first row of the Bottom Line enthralled by Bruce Springsteen, or in a dank club on the Lower East Side, mesmerized by Television, Talking Heads, and Blondie, music was our life. When the 6'7" gentle giant took me to the floor to dance, whether it be squirming to Otis' The Worm, or pogoing to The Ramones, everyone cleared it for us. He was the best dance partner I ever had.

Together we discovered Patti Smith, who changed our lives, so I start this post with Patti's words and end it with two Patti songs...

"Oh
to be
not anyone
gone
this maze of being
skin
oh
to cry
not any cry
so mournful that
the dove just laughs
the steadfast gasps"



"and if there's one thing
could do for you
you'd be a wing
in heaven blue"



Godspeed John Paul, you're with me always. And if there's any comfort I can find from your death, it's in knowing you'll be there for me when it's my time...

Rest in Peace John Paul

I lost my best friend yesterday. He happened to be my cousin, John Paul. He was two weeks older than me, the other black sheep of the family, and who everyone referred to as "my partner in crime." I'm at such a loss I don't know what to do. I always thought that when two people had a special bond, when one person left the earth, the other person would know it. I didn't. I felt sick the day before, worn out and depressed, but I just chalked it up to my own medical problems. I wasn't into decorating the Christmas tree, and when I picked up an old glass ornament that had been my mother's and found it shattered, it made me tear. Then my cellphone rang.

It was John Paul's sister. The moment I heard her voice I knew something was wrong. In between tears, she told me her brother had died that morning of a heart attack while in bed. His wife didn't even know it. She had spoken with him before getting up to make coffee and when she returned, he was gone. Just like that. The tears haven't stopped since that call.

The last time I spoke with him was a couple of days earlier. He sounded fine and said his doctor said he could finally get back to doing whatever he wanted to do. JP had been through so much this year, the year he had proudly claimed to me on January 1, 2011, "I got a good feeling about 2011...this is gonna be my year." "His year" began less than two weeks after that statement, with a horrible accident through glass shower doors resulting in the loss of feeling in a couple of his fingers, many surgeries, rehabs, and an almost $100,000 medical bill. He lost his job, and then his health insurance.

Through it all he kept up the best attitude he could, the last conversation telling me he wasn't depressed, but I could hear it in his voice. "My Wall Street days are over, and I can't even find a job as a security guard." He didn't own a computer, hadn't updated his resume since 1988, and felt like he had lost a couple of decades. It's hard to start over at our age. His obesity didn't help, and was most likely the cause of his heart attack.

We were best buddies since birth, and even when I picked up and moved to Virginia we kept in close contact. A week didn't go by without a phone call or a text message. We were so alike we would text each other stupid sayings that no one else would get, yet made perfect sense to us. His last couple of text messages to me was, "Poppies will put them to sleep...Yes poppies." and "Surrender Dorothy."

I texted him on Thanksgiving and was surprised I didn't get a response. I figured he was at his parent's house in PA and didn't want to call him because I haven't spoken to them since the betrayal at my father's funeral. I was going to wait until yesterday to call him as I thought he would be home by then. Now I'm sorry I waited. When I checked my phone I saw he never received, or, never opened my text so he didn't get my "Gobble, gobble" message. He also didn't know that I finished my book and that he was in it. I was waiting until Christmas to tell him. Now I'm sorry I waited.

At least I got to see him when I went up to New York earlier this year. This is how I will remember him...always smiling.



Rest in Peace, John Paul, you left a gaping hole in my heart. I love you, and will never forget you...

Bright Friday

For some, the day after Thanksgiving is a day to spend in stores, shopping, shopping, shopping. Not this family. We don't refer to today as Black Friday, we refer to it as Bright Friday. For tonight, the dark, gloomy hilltop will be awash in bright lights. Motorists will be able to see what lies ahead around the turn and up the hill. The walkers will have their dangerous path lit. And the critters, well, now I'll be able to see what exactly has emerged from the rustling in the woods.

My husband lucked out. It's supposed to be in the 60's today and tomorrow. Usually his task is a three-day affair. With the possibility of a cold rain looming on Sunday I am urging him to take advantage of today and tomorrow. Every year we add a little something, and this year there will be a birth announcement. I'll wait until I can post a pic to elaborate.

While he's working on the outside, I'll be working inside. I already started yesterday with the cleaning and making the Goodwill box. After everything is dusted and polished I can begin the transformation. My son brought up the wooden Advent calendar yesterday. It's heavy, awkward, and needs to be put together. He is the master of the two screws. That is his contribution to Christmas decorating. Still, he says, "I feel like I just took this apart."

The girl always helps with the inside. But this year she might vary from the routine. She is helping, but it's by editing together a NYC Christmas Pic video over Sinatra's "New York, New York." "I wish I had video, and not just photos," she says. They're our photos, and hopefully she will feel creative and produce a piece in time for the "NYC...Live in Roanoke" event.

In my travels, I'll probably find gifts that I had bought last year and hid so well that I forgot to hand them out. I'll find the Memory Box and read through cards and notes of Christmas past by loved ones who are no longer with us. I will tear up and hold some of them to my heart, and just when I think I can't take it any more, I'll spy a letter from Santa Claus written in 1986 to my first baby, Alex. I'll read it aloud to him, as I stroke the golden Welsh Corgi ornament that sits in the special place on my tree, the front top.

Behind that letter, lies another one from Santa Claus to the replacement baby, Max.



Written when he was just a pup it's a funny letter telling him not to herd the boy, chew boots, or eat his own poo. Ten years later, he still does two out of those three things. My boots are safe.

This year, thanks to a mega clearance at Sears last year, I will be replacing my regular indoor lights with lcd's. I will give them a shot, but if they don't give me the warm, cozy, golden light that says Christmas, I'm taking them down.

Got a lot to do, so I'll catchya later.

Roanoke Thanksgiving Traditions

I love Thanksgiving. It's like Christmas without the stress of presents. It's the kick-off. It's when I find it acceptable to start listening to Christmas carols. It's when Christmas shows can be watched. It's when "March of the Wooden Soldiers" is supposed to air, like it did every Thanksgiving on WPIX in NYC. Here in Roanoke, VA, it never does. It doesn't matter anymore. My family got tired of hearing me complain about it, so now I own two dvd's of it, both colorized. I like the black and white version better.



Of course, I'll watch the parade in the background as I'm preparing the foodstuffs. I'll think back to the days I saw those balloons in person on my way to work at ABC News. It won't make me sad. I have Virginia traditions now. The transformation of the house will commence. In the sun room, my husband will watch the Cowboys. Instead of a beer in his hand, a string of broken Christmas lights to clothe a naked deer, will be. I'll time the dinner to begin before the game does. I will fail miserably, and the best my husband can hope for is halftime.

Friends will drift in and out. I'll cajole someone to stay for dinner. If we have enough folks, Pokeno will be played afterwards. Then dessert. Still haven't decided on that yet, but have been busy getting everything else in order. Two loaves of bread have been cut and placed in a huge glass bowl, waiting to get hard from the fresh air. I'll toss them every couple of hours. The peppers have been roasted and are awaiting to be peeled. The hard boiled eggs are to be deviled in the morning. The gravy stock vegetables will be cut up. The stuffing vegetables will be peeled and chopped. The rest will happen tomorrow.

I love Thanksgiving. It's the anticipation of Christmas.

Enjoy your traditions!

Roanoke's Cool Quotient

Have you noticed lately that Roanoke's cool quotient has been rising? Maybe it's always been that way, but I was too ensconced in my little mommy bubble to realize it, but now that I feel like I'm "getting my life back" I'm excited to be part of it.

For instance...I had never listened to a podcast before, but when I saw that Tad Dickens of the Roanoke Times had interviewed punk/underground pioneer Marty Thau, who by the way is a Roanoke resident, I gave it a spin. It was a great interview and I was sorry I couldn't attend Marty's talk at another cool place, Bazaar Consignments. Located on Colonial Avenue it's the only place I know of where you can still find vinyl records. They bill themselves as having: Records, Art, Vintage & Antique, Clothes, Consignments and more...the more part is live music.

I had already made plans the night Marty was speaking to attend a special screening of This is Spinal Tap at The Shadowbox, Roanoke's community microcinema located on Kirk Street. According to their Facebook page, "We do cool shit." And they do. On December 2nd they'll be showing "I Shot Andy Warhol" which is going to kick off a multipart Andy Warhol exhibition.

Mike Allen of the Roanoke Times reported yesterday on the upcoming event called, "In The Event of Andy Warhol..."

"Roanoke College, Hollins University and Washington and Lee University all have received Warhol works from the foundation that will be shown as part of a three-part exhibition, "In the Event of Andy Warhol," that aims to demonstrate how the artist, who died in 1987, remains relevant today...

The offbeat theater (Shadowbox) will also be making video recordings of Warhol-style "screen tests," in which the subject looks at, speaks to or otherwise acts out in front of the camera, usually without accompanying sound.

The screen tests will play during the subsequent phases of the exhibition. Washington and Lee will open its show Jan. 9, Roanoke College's will open March 1, and the Hollins show will open May 31.

The collaboration "is a perfect example of local arts organizations working together to create something amazing," said Shadowbox owner Jason Garnett."

How cool is that?

Kirk Avenue Music Hall, located at the same address as the Shadowbox, is Roanoke’s premiere live music venue. According to their website, "Kirk Avenue Music Hall presents musical events in a relaxed, smoke-free setting with the focus on the stage. No frills, TVs or fusion menus. Just what matters at a music venue: exceptional music, clear sound, dedicated fans and not a bad seat in the house."

Laker, yes that would be River Laker, is appearing Friday night at 8:00pm. "Until 5 months ago River Laker had never been in a band nor written a song nor played any musical instruments. After seeing a Heevahava show at the Coffeepot in Roanoke, River knew where his destiny lay, and a new experiment was born: The Laker Experiment. Within a 6 month period River formed the band, “Laker”, wrote & recorded 10 songs, signed with the label The UNcommonwealth, released an EP, “Approaching Acceptability”, made a music video."

I will definitely be there.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention another cool upcoming event, on Thursday, December 15th at 6:00pm -- "NYC...Live in Roanoke!" Being held at the Roanoke Public Library Downtown, it will be a break from the conventional format of what one might expect from an author's book release event...in this case, my eBook, Fractured Facade.

I won't be signing any books, but through vignettes I will be sharing my journey, and the stage, by creating a bridge between the tale's settings of Roanoke, VA and Brooklyn, NY through the talents of other independent artists. Inspired by a NYC theme, musicians will perform live, and visual artists will exhibit their work. Although the "official FB event invite hasn't been sent out, you can check out the above link to find out more info. When the musician info is posted, I hope you will be as impressed as I am.

I'm so thrilled that Roanoke has someone like River who has transformed the library from a place to just read books to a venue that allows Roanoke's creative community to be able to showcase their talents through unique events. Thank you River, thank you musicians, thank you artists, and thank you Roanoke for supporting the arts. Now if only there was a place to buy real Italian bread, cookies, pastries, and Breakstone Butter, I would never have to go back to Brooklyn.

Feeling Shondelli

Every once in a while I get to feeling very "Shondelli." It could be a note that I hear, a pic that I see, the smell of a chill in the air, and suddenly, I hear Tommy James and the Shondells playing in my head. I'm brought back to my warm blanket...a comfortable, cozy, bordering on the edge of excitement, but still innocent, time.



A Youtube commercial on FB, even if it wasn't the actual one, of a familiar belly-button-pushing, hair-growing doll named Velvet, probably was the nostalgic nudge.



I loved that creepy doll. She was my best friend, until the time I yanked her ponytail a little too hard. She hated me after that. No matter how many times I turned the plastic growth/knob sticking out of Velvet's back, her hair would not go back down inside her. After I cut the tail off, I quickly lost interest in her. Really can't do much with short hair. Seeing Velvet last night, after all these years, made me play with my own hair. With no button to push to make it grow again, I knew not to take a scissor to mine. Instead, I took a bottle and brush, and did the best I could with what I had to work with.

Afterwards, I went into the backyard. I don't think Velvet was the only thing that made me feel Shondelli today. Maybe it was the cold grey air outside, watching that brown leaf dance, that reminded me of the old oak tree in Brooklyn. I saw the roots bulging through the concrete, spinning a wheelie over that natural bicycle ramp. I felt the acorn flesh stuck under my fingernails from peeling them. I smelled the wet leaves stuck to my Keds. Clear as day. Another time in another place.

Shondelli.

Another Visit to Roanoke College

Visitors to the Roanoke Valley, and in particular, those who came to Roanoke College on Monday, got to experience the beauty that is Southwest Virginia this time of the year. Yesterday, the first students who were semi-finalists for Roanoke College's Scholarship descended upon Salem to compete for the coveted awards. Yes, my daughter was one of them and we didn't have to travel as far as some of the folks I met had to.

I spoke with parents of students from Colorado, Connecticut and Maryland. Their kids, like my daughter, have had their mailboxes inundated with offers from across the country trying to entice them to attend their college. I literally have a Rubbermaid tub filled with brochures, papers and award letters. Marie could go to quite a few well-known universities, including NYU, free of charge. But she is smitten with Roanoke College.

She told me that many of the potential students she met, who lived out of state, wanted to go to Roanoke College, just so they could be far away from home. When they heard she lived only a couple of miles away, they thought she was "crazy" that she wanted to stay so close to home. I'm thrilled that she wants to stay "so close to home" even if she really wants to live on campus. She'll have plenty of time after she graduates to wind up in some far-away city. Of course, I hope she finds a good-paying job and chooses to remain right here in the Valley after she does graduate.

Anyway, yesterday's competition entailed writing an essay on the spot, listening to currently enrolled students, and then having a one-on-one interview with a professor. She was a little nervous, but thrilled when the professor she was interviewing with invited her to sit on his history class where they would be discussing the Holocaust. She is a history buff, and begged me to let her go. Even though Monday's are the day I take my chemo pills, and I was barely able to keep my head up, I would never deny her that opportunity, so naturally I encouraged her to sit in. I stayed at the library while she tasted her first college class.

When I saw her descending the stairs from the grand old building, folders in hand, the wind whipping her hair gently, I have to tell you I teared up. It looked like she belonged there. When she saw me waiting in the car, a huge smile spread across her face. She excitedly told me about the class and how interesting the professor was. "I'm definitely signing up for that class!" I hated to remind her, "if you go here."

Look, every time we go back to Roanoke College we love it more and more, and I don't want to burst her bubble, but I'm just being a realist. There are only 3 spots open for a full scholarship. Hundreds are applying. And although I truly believe she does deserve it, not only because of her academic performance, but for all she's had to deal with and overcome in her life, all the while never complaining and keeping a pure heart, things like a free scholarship just don't happen in our lives. We always have to work doubly hard for everything.

When I asked her if the interviewer saw all the scars on her legs from her operations, or if she mentioned that she would be the first female in her family to attend college, she rolled her eyes at me. "No, Mom, I can do this without playing the pity card. I'm pulling a 4.3 right now, did good on the SAT and pulled 4 & 5's on the AP exams. That's got to count for something!"

We'll see. I'm already proud of her for getting this far. Like I told her, if it's meant to be, it'll be...

Make Way for the New Punk

I have to give the Roanoke Times credit, not only for running my commentary which they gave a great headline to, "Make way for the new punk" on the front page of the Horizon section, but for running another commentary lamenting "Suddenly, everyone is a published writer" right next to mine.

The major difference in our attitudes is made clear in the first paragraph of Betsy's commentary when she writes..."In fact, my brother's book came out a week before mine. But don't buy his. Buy mine. It's funnier, or at least, the cover is. I haven't looked at the inside of his yet." I would never tell someone to not buy my brother's book, or that mine is "better," especially if I hadn't "looked at the inside of his yet!"

No, I'm of the mind set that independent anything...authors, artists, musicians, etc. should be celebrated, not only for their talent, but for having the tenacity to overcome all the negativity that is often thrown their way by people who think they're "better" than them.

That's why I am thrilled that so many musicians and artists have agreed to share the stage with me on December 15th, 6:00pm, at Roanoke's Main Library Downtown for an event called, "NYC...Live in Roanoke!" which not only celebrates the release of "Fractured Facade," but the re-emergence of the independent.

"In breaking away from the conventional format of what one might expect from an author’s book release event, Elena DeRosa, local author of the recently published eBook “Fractured Façade,” and Roanoke Public Libraries, are collaborating to present “NYC...Live in Roanoke!”

The author won’t be signing any books, but through vignettes, will share her journey, and the stage. Rather than read a chapter or two from her book, the author endeavors to create a bridge between the tale’s settings of Roanoke, VA and Brooklyn, NY, through the talents of other independent artists. Inspired by a New York City theme, musicians will perform live and visual artists’ exhibit their work.

The evening, “NYC...Live in Roanoke!” promises to continue the tradition of Roanoke Public Libraries celebrating our creative community, showcasing talent through unique events that have become synonymous with the downtown library.

In the spirit of the holiday season, a request is made to bring an unwrapped new toy for Toys for Tots, as well as a non-perishable food item that would be donated to the Rescue Mission.

We're hoping that this event will be the pinnacle of events so far at Roanoke Main Library in terms of cultural creativity.

A big part of the inspiration for this event came from a recent blog post titled:
Independent Authors & Punk Rockers
http://mselenaeousrants.blogspot.com/2011/10/independent-authors-punk-rockers.html

Refreshments served - authentic NYC menu of course.

Free."

Just so you know, I'm damned proud of the written result of three years' worth of blood, sweat, and tears that I spilled on my keyboard to bring my tale to light, but I'm no better than anyone else...

Fractured Facade is available at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all eReader stores. You can read a sample and see if it's worth $4.99 to you ;)

Happy Birthday Neil Young

Thanks to Facebook I found out today is Neil Young's birthday. From the first moment I heard his voice, I became enchanted. It was in the early '70's, and up until then I was an ardent AM Radio fan. I spent whatever money I would find hidden in the couches on 45's at the local candy store. My prized possession was my friend's record of Peter St. Crispin's "Pied Piper." I would make her play it for me constantly. The day she wedged it in between her carpet and the wall, struck it with a clarinet, and broke it, was the day I began hating her.

After I got a job, and didn't have to scrounge in between the cushions for change, I began to shift away from 45's to full albums. The earliest ones I remember buying were The Beach Boys (from a bargain bin), Bette Midler (loved Fever) and Cat Stevens (he looked hot on the cover). Then somewhere, with someone, I heard Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young. Neil's voice immediately called out to me, and after I heard "Southern Man," I ran out and bought "After the Goldrush."

It was my album, and I didn't have to depend on the kindness of others to hear it, so I played it constantly. It's still my favorite Neil Young album. I was turned onto FM Radio, WNEW-FM, and that was the end of AM bubblegum music for me, so thank you Neil for plunging me into the world of rock 'n roll, and happy birthday!!!

I found this great version of "Helpless" today. Patti Smith does her own version on one of her albums, which I think is fantastic, and much better than her "Smells Like Teen Spirit" one. On this video she, and some other musicians, join Neil. Together they give me goosebumps...

Thank You

Take the time to thank a veteran today...thank you Dad.

Books - Old & New

I happened to be flipping through channels the other day when I landed on some sort of auction show. Up for bid were two old books. One was a history book that had John Hancock's signature, the other was a first edition of "The Great Gatsby." They each brought in a pretty penny and it got me thinking about my own antique book collection.



It's been quite a while since I dusted them, so figured now was the perfect opportunity to spruce them up, and check out the worth of some of them. I knew I had quite a few first editions, and a couple of books from the 1800's as well. I think the earliest one I have is from 1839, followed by a book of poems from 1863, written by an anti-slavery author. I used to have many more, but about a month after I first moved to Salem, Virginia, the Roanoke River flooded the basement of the house I was renting and destroyed not only my precious books, but all my leather clothing. The clothes wouldn't fit anymore anyway, but I still lament the loss of my antique tomes.

Anyhow, after checking on-line for the worth of some of these books I was quite surprised to find out they are pretty much worthless. I really imagined I was holding gold on my shelves. And maybe I am via the written words inside, but the books are so fragile that I don't want to read them in fear of destroying them.

Well, I won't have to worry about that with my eBook Fractured Facade. I finally received my "business cards" for them. They look cool, don't they...and they hardly take up any shelf space!

On Mill Mountain

I must say, for someone who just had all four wisdom teeth removed, the girl looks pretty good. Unfortunately I can't say the same for the trees around Mill Mountain. Guess I waited too long to get up there and take some fall foliage shots...

Knocking on Heaven's Door

It would have been my father's 79th birthday today. People say it gets easier with time, but does it really?

Dad, I kept the promise you never heard. I did it. I told our story. I always knew I would dedicate my first book to you, but never dreamed it would be about you. Miss you...

"If Only It Was Available as a 'Real' Book"

Although I appreciate all the folks who have said, "Oh, I would definitely buy your book, if only it was available as a "real" book," once they saw what I would have to charge, I highly doubt they would put their money where their mouth is. And that, in a nutshell, is why I chose to only go the eBook route...cost!

I never bothered trying to attract a publishing house as I doubted my debut novel would attract the huge following that would ensure a hefty advance, a large first-run print edition, a prime space on the shelf of a Barnes & Noble bookstore, and an all expenses paid marketing campaign. Sure, I'm a dreamer, but I'm not delusional.

I could, as many others have, published my own "real" book that I could hold and caress, and sign for the throngs of readers who would surely show up at all the book signing events I would be afforded, if I only had a "real" book, by going through one of the many self-publishing companies out there. One of the most popular and most affordable is one called Createspace. Let's look at the start-up costs...

The cheapest package they offer is a mere $728.00, which includes a book cover, interior design, and an ISBN number. The next package costs $1,737.00 and adds one round of copy editing and LCCN assignment which allows the book to be eligible for sales to libraries. The advanced package comes in at $2,534.00 which includes all the above and adds a press release and creation of a book description. The final package is the Marketing Pro one which costs $4,853.00. The Pro package has all the features of the others but also includes another round of copy editing and a video book trailer.

I already have most of the components including the cover and book trailer, the only thing I am missing is the LCCN assignment and the press release (and that's only because I've been dragging my feet on it!) Maybe if I was a doctor, lawyer or some wealthy person who could afford to spend thousands I would, but I'm not, so let's say I went with the cheapest package. After you pay the start-up costs you only pay for the books you order, and you set the price.

My book in print would be approximately 347 pages. Let's say the trim size is 5.5 x 8.5, soft cover and I chose to charge $14.99 per book. For each book I sold on Amazon.com my royalty rate would be 53 cents. I would have to sell 1,374 copies to recoup the $728.00. If I wanted to get closer to my royalty rate on Smashwords I would have to charge $20.99 per book. I would have to sell 208 copies to break even. Other than some friends and family, maybe, I can't imagine anyone (except for me, when I bought other local author's books, books by the way, in genres I will never read, but still felt it was important to support a fellow author) paying almost $21.00 for a paperback novel. Just not gonna happen.

$4.99 is more affordable, so affordable in fact that one reader told me she first downloaded it onto her computer, read it, and then decided to buy another copy to download to her Ipad. I thanked her, but informed her that if she bought it from Smashwords she would be able to just download another copy to her Ipad without having to pay again. Not bad. One other perk for potential readers is they get to sample 15% of the book via Smashwords before deciding if they want to buy it or not. I know I'm not for everyone, but at least the opportunity to "try me" is out there.

So, just to recap you can get Fractured Facade here at Smashwords, or here at Amazon, or, at any other eRetailer now. What? You don't have an eReader??? Christmas is coming, and you can get a Kindle starting at $79!