Review My Book! (please) and give some thought to reproductive rights....

Imagine a world where there is no such thing as birth control. No abortion either. Imagine a place where single mothers are shamed and baited. Imagine that the term single mother is replaced with the word slut. Imagine that you are the slut. You are pregnant. You are too dirty, too worthless, too much of an embarrassment to raise your baby. So you give him away.

Now imagine that this world is a real place. Because it was.

When I was a pregnant teenager in a small Catholic town in 1970, men were most decidedly in charge of women’s reproductive rights. The same issues are making headlines today.

I tell my story for a reason. Because it's happening right now.

If you haven't yet read my memoir and would like to, I'd appreciate a review. I currently have 30 Amazon reviews, but I've learned that there is increased visibility for books with 50 reviews or more. 

Now is a good time for increased visibility.

Here's the Amazon link: Birth Mother

Thank you. The book is a quick read in keeping with the publisher, SheBooks, novella length format. I hope you'll share this post. And I implore you to share it with anyone you know who has lost a child to adoption.

And here's the link to Center for Reproductive Rights in case you'd like to get caught up with the news.

And the link to Concerned United Birth Parents.

Crocheting is Good for the Brain

My mother crochets. Over the last few years she's crocheted dozens of doilies and dresser scarves. She's crocheted tablecloths that would make your Thanksgiving dinner look like you'd been transported to Downton Abbey. Before I went to France for my study abroad semester 30 years ago, she crocheted me a purse that I wish I still had. It was circular and had rings of color like a target. I thought the 70s orange and brown color scheme looked smashing with my orange raincoat. In some over-enthusiastic closet purge, I must have gotten rid of it. Maybe there's a retro hippie chick toting it somewhere in L.A., thrilled with her vintage find. Maybe not.

In the past few years, it's been snowflakes that my mother has taken a liking to. This past Christmas I told her my tree could use a few more. Whoa. 

The picture at the bottom of the post is what she's done since then--and that does not include the ziplock bag of a dozen or so more still waiting to be starched. She's making them for other people too. This trip to the east coast that we're on is not just a birthday trip, it's a snowflake distributing mission.

We carefully packed her book "101 Snowflakes" in her carry-on. After our flight was delayed, cancelled, and then subsequently re-scheduled due to the lightning strike at the BWI control tower, my brain was in a rather fried state itself. I think I put the book in her seatback pocket....and I think that is where it remained after we deplaned. Maybe not. 

But we can't find it. Also lost is her toothbrush, some underwear, and a gorgeous pair of earrings. Traveling at 89 is a challenge. We spent the first night at my brother's house, then my cousin's place for three nights, and now we're back at my brother's. In addition to our carry-on bags we brought four empty suitcases and stuffed them with all kinds of treasures that she left in Maryland when she moved to California a year ago. Among them a crocheted bedspread that I can't wait to unfurl across my bed. Anything could be anywhere. Or maybe not.

This is not the first time the book has been lost. A couple of years ago I figured I would simply snap one up for her on Amazon. But it's out of print and was being sold for over a hundred bucks. I considered buying it anyhow and not telling her what I'd paid for it, but she found her copy. Yesterday I filled out a lost and found report with Southwest Airlines. But this morning I went to Amazon and found the book for twenty dollars. I bought it. It should arrive at my house before we do. I think my cousin is right when he says that it's the crocheting that's keeping my mom's brain healthy. 

"If you want to be me, be me. And if you want to be you, be you..."

I legally changed my name in July of '08. The name change came with the final decree of divorce. Then came implementing that change. An endless litany of dentist, doctors, hairdresser, chiropractor, credit card companies, friends, etc. etc. I never got around to Amazon. Mr. Ex & I used the same Amazon account when we were together, and even after the split when I changed the password and entered my new credit card numbers for one-click shopping, I let the masquerade continue. "Hello, Mr. Ex," it would say as soon as I went to the site. It annoyed me. "Hello Barnes & Noble" I'd mutter--or "Hi there, Borders." But I thought it would be complicated to change it & I didn't want to lose whatever might be stored in my history.
Until.....last night when I bought a Kindle. I've been dreaming of a Kindle since I first heard about them & I finally took the leap. This morning I got the confirmation email and went to my Kindle page on Amazon to see that my  Kindle was called "Mr. Ex's" Kindle. 
Not anymore.
It's easy. Go to the settings page and change your name. Anyone could do it. It seems to me that as far as Amazon cares, the name on the account could be Paris France or Bimbo Dumas--or Dante or Homer.  Indulge your fantasies.


Title from Cat Stevens' lyrics from his song "If You Want to Sing Out."