My Blog

Saturday & Mr. Kline

Sat, 27 Mar 2010 10:18:45 -0700

A co-worker, Mia, liked to tell me that our names were mirror images. A-me. Me-A. Okay.
We both worked as drive-up tellers and had many regular customers. One, a sad woman whose little boy dangled himself out the car window while she tried to fill out a check. A veterinarian who tempted us with adoptable abandoned strays. The owner of the pipe and knife store in the mall whose deposit money smelled of cherry almond tobacco. And then Mr. Kline in his green Crown Victoria and bitter scowl. Even though he wasn’t a Merchant, the lanes where he had to manipulate canisters that got sucked up into the vacuum tube were too much trouble, he said, so he always came to the first lane with the automatic drawer meant for large merchant transactions. When Mr. Kline arrived all the other tellers scattered. You didn’t get a thank you, and he looked over all your work with great suspicion.
One day I told my fellow tellers that I would make Mr. Kline laugh. They sniffed at me, but they were eager to let me wait on Mr. Kline so they didn’t have to.
I would click on my microphone. “Hello, Mr. Kline,” “Mmm,” he’d say back. “How are you today?” I’d ask as I counted his money out. He didn’t budge.
One day the sad lady came through and as her brat dangled out of the car I dropped two of the give-away lollipops in the drawer, hoping she’d take one. As she drove off, Mr. Kline pulled in right behind her and I flipped the switch to send the drawer out again and I saw the mom had removed only one sucker. When the drawer opened on Mr. Kline’s side of the wall and he saw the sucker, he held it up. I spoke into my microphone, “It’s for you.” The slightest inkling of a smile showed on his face. An almost smile.
The next day Mr. Kline came to make a withdrawal, and instead of dropping the sucker in the drawer, I turned on the microphone and asked, “What flavor lollipop would you like today, Mr. Kline?” He hadn’t looked up or even acknowledged that there was someone on the other side of the window yet, “We have lemon, grape, strawberry and something blue that I don’t know what flavor it is.” He looked at me for a moment, perhaps he didn’t trust a joke when he heard it. Then he said, “Which do you recommend?” “Grape,” I said, “Definitely grape is our most popular.” He didn’t respond. I worked his transaction, then pushed the button to send out his receipt. “Have a great day,” I said. He reached in the drawer and saw that I had put in a lollipop of every flavor. “You have to let me know what you think of the blue one,” I said. He unwrapped it and stuck it in his mouth. With a stiff laugh, he said, “Thank you, Mia.” And drove off.
Mia! Mia had been assigned the Merchant Drawer that day. He saw the name plate that was stuck to the window and assumed my name was Mia.
I was fine with Mia, after all Mia and I almost had the same name.
Weeks later I had been assigned to work the inside lobby. On the floor counting rolls of pennies, I was not visible from the customer side of the teller line, when I heard “Is Mia in?” The head teller started to explain that Mia was in the drive-up, but I jumped up and said, “I’m right here, Mr. Kline!” When I completed his transaction. I said, “Sorry, but lollipops are only available at the drive-up.” “That’s okay,” he said. “They said you were working inside, so I thought I’d just say hello.”
“I’ll be back to the drive-up next week. I’m just covering a vacation.”
“Good,” he said. “I don’t like having to get out of my car.”
I was relieved he hadn’t lost his curmudgeon.

Tuesday and Mrs. Tibbles

Tue, 23 Mar 2010 08:49:14 -0700

Mrs. Tibbles, a character in my next novel, is inspired by a friend and student I had many years ago who had been a Martha Graham dancer. She had that willowy bend to her arms and legs. The lilt of her head that said grace. Her shoulders square and straight, but not soldiery. She worked on a memoir of her dancing days in the writing workshop I facilitated. Her stories were tales of working with Zero Mostel, Tennesee Williams, entertaining Russian delegates in her dinky New York apartment, serving dinner on a table made from her bathroom door laid over two bookcases. I picture her in a velvet and lace red dress while pouring ouzo or chilled vodka into tiny crystal glasses. That last part is in my head, details that arrange themselves based on who I imagine she was. A Vogue model, a true fact I only know because I picked her up to take her to lunch after she left the group, and she showed me around her home. A one-story Southern California middle class two-bedroom, with photos and magazine covers framed and hung here and there. The Cleavers could have lived in this house, and maybe they did. That’s what fascinates me about life: we don’t really know what goes on inside anyone else’s world, home, or their head.

I know a lot about what went on in Ellen’s life because she told us in the group. She didn’t write it down. What she wrote was very banal and undetailed. But she would elaborate verbally when we would tell her she needed to tell us more. “Put it on the page!” we would say when she’d relate a story about clomping around her apartment with large tomato juice cans tied to her feet to practice for the Lolapalooza. “Put it on the page! Write it down!”

She never did. Ellen was diagnosed with severe Alzheimers. She would lose her way to my house (my living room is where I hold my private groups), and we thought she was bonkers. We’d smile at one another, a look in our eye that translated into “She’s loopy.” We meant it with love. Then she had to leave the group because they took away her car. I continued to stay in touch, to take her to lunch, to try to reach out to her. I didn’t want her stories to disappear. I encouraged her to continue to write. She quit taking her medication “because it makes me dizzy” and what dancer wants to be dizzy. She’d had a good life, the best life anyone could expect, she said. She didn’t see any point in having to stick around for what was to come.

One day, after a panicky and disoriented lunch, she called, and said I was the only person who still contacted her. She believed everyone had forgotten her.

I never heard from Ellen again.

Three Weeks on The Road

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 10:01:37 -0700

I spent the last three weeks on the road. The first two weeks I was in Saratoga Springs, NY at my favorite annual summer event--New York State Summer Writers Institute. I get to hang out with the likes of Robert Pinsky (who is a great joke teller), Marilynne Robinson (who giggles) and Mary Gordon (who I have a huge crush on), and many other National Book Award, Pulitzer, Literari Emeritus award winners and nominees. Why I am there? I can tell a pretty good joke at the dinner table too. Or at least I think that’s why they keep asking me back. This was my ninth year.
As part of my job as writer-in-residence I read student manuscripts. This year I read five novels-in-progress, each one unique and intriguing in its own way. I love the way human beings have these engrossing tales to tell. I especially love that I am lucky to get to read so many. This was my second year on the staff, and so no more dorms for me. But my writer friends did come to my faculty housing and eat M&Ms, drink Saratoga Seltzer water, and gossip until the wee hours of the night.
The third week of my road trip I ventured into Manhattan to meet with my agents, Meg Ruley and Christina Hogrebe of the Jane Rotrosen Agency. Meg gave a big thumbs up to the publishing industry and said it was doing well, and would always find its way in this world.
The last few days I spent in Texas on what my paramour, Eber Lambert calls Redneck Country Safari. I’ll have to blog about the barbecued goat and pecan groves soon. But we were there for my Dad’s 80th!

DimeStories Showcase at Orange County Affiliate

Fri, 1 May 2009 14:18:55 -0700

DimeStories Open Mic Affiliate in Orange County just opened a few months ago at Laguna Beach Books. This Sunday, they are having their first DimeStories Showcase! The line up of readers is top of the line (see above). Check out this article on DimeStories Orange County that just came out in today’s Laguna Beach Independent.
http://www.lagunabeachindependent.com/news/2009/0501/front_page/003.html

DimeStories Authors at the LA Times Festival

Wed, 29 Apr 2009 12:08:13 -0700

DimeStories readings at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books was as stupendous as it was, audience in the 100s, mesmerized, laughing out loud, sitting on the edges of their seats, because of the authors. I will list here Who the Authors were and what piece they read. Their pieces are available for download on the DimeStories website. But I will also post them on this website under the DimeStories heading where I’ve posted some of my own readings.

Listed in the order that they read at the Festival, here are the readers and their titles:

1. Frank DiPalermo A Running Joke

2. Shanna Mahin Acapulco Motel

3. Kelli Ochoa King of Yuma

4. Sarah Saulter 2nd Chances

5. Jim Ruland Twilight of the Idiots

6. Emil Wilson Things Are Bad For Everyone Out There! And, That Includes You, Katie!

7. Meredith Resnick Smokestack

8. Kim Cromwell Jake

9. Eber Lambert Party Dogs

10. Victoria Melekian What I Don’t Tell Him

11. Marivi Blanco On Race

12. Suzana Norberg Died on the 4th of July

Los Angeles Times Festival of Books 2009

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 12:24:19 -0700

Today will be about what a great weekend it was. DimeStories had its biggest event ever. I took it to the Los Angeles Times Book Festival this year. We did a performance on one of the outdoor stages, the Etc. Stage in particular. Every year I walk by the stage events and I think, “Pitiful. They have no audience.” I always feel like I should stay awhile and sometimes I do. So, when I proposed the idea to the LA Times I figured it would be great exposure for DimeStories with the name in the paper for upcoming events the week before, and our name on the programs etc. But I thought (and don’t tell the DimeStories authors this) that we’d be reading to ourselves and rows and rows of white plastic chairs.

INSTEAD! We had an audience in the 100s, or at least that’s what someone estimated. I didn’t count and I should have, but when the show started every row of white plastic chairs had a body in it. And behind the rows of body-filled chairs we had rows of Standers. It was tremendous. The audience was engaged, in their seats and wanted more.

I couldn’t have asked for a better turn out.

Emil Wilson, the DimeStories Creative Director and Dance Captain designed our new sign. I’m in love with it. I’m dancing around it in my living room. I gaze at it while I eat my lunch salad. As I put it away in the closet until our next DimeStories event I get a little choked up knowing that it has many many stage performances and applause ahead.

The DimeStories Authors were our very best that day: Frank DiPalermo, Shanna Mahin, Kelli Ochoa, Sarah Saulter, Jim Ruland, Emil Wilson, Meredith Resnick, Kim Cromwell, Eber Lambert, Victoria Melekian, Marivi Blanco and Sue Norberg. Each of them can be heard on the podcasts on the DimeStories website www.dimestories.org.

And that’s what we do.

Adam Lambert on American Idol

Wed, 1 Apr 2009 23:17:41 -0700

It’s uncanny. Really. How well this kid can sing. I’ve never watched American Idol in my life. I prided myself on that fact, actually. I’m something of a snob about such things as reality shows. I miss TV like Mary Tyler Moore and Bewitched. But this year, I’m watching American Idol faithfully. Adam Lambert is my long term partner, Eber Lambert’s son.

Adam blows away the entire rest of the Idol crew. Okay, Allison, she’s pretty amazing. 16! My god that girl is a natural. Now I sound like Kara. But it’s true. Kris Allen, he’s Kute and talented.

But Adam is just brilliant. It doesn’t come easy. Sure, the talent is natural and when he was Allison’s age he was blowing his pipes to the heavens. But he also has style and here’s the part that I find most amazing: He’s 27 years old and this guy knows who he is. He knows how to stay true to himself. How many of us can say that about ourselves? It’s not that easy to do when the whole world tells you what you’re doing wrong all the time.

I think America should Idolize Adam Lambert for shear ability to not cave to what everyone tells him would be most popular. Finally someone who isn’t Gap, Banana Republic or even Starbucks. He’s who he is. I love that.

DimeStories Theatre

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 11:38:28 -0700

That’s me, checking my timer, pulling the next name from the bucket. As founder of DimeStories, a reading series of 3-minute stories read by the original authors, I’ve earned the moniker, Time Dominatrix. Five years of whipping out my cat-o-tails, folks get it now. The challenge is to write a story that fits inside the tiny capsule of 3-minutes.

DimeStories has grown beyond belief, not just in popularity, but in all the events. We have a public radio series in post production, podcasts in the works, showcases popping up all over Southern California, open mics that are bursting at the doorways for more body space, and Read-Offs between university creative writing programs, and now regular matches in San Diego. Last summer we had showcases in Los Angeles and New York City even!

On April 26th we will be at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books Etc. Stage from 3-4pm. Twelve pre-selected readers will read their stories to the Festival’s audience. Come by and give us your support, and learn more about what a DimeStory is. Write one of your own, and read it at one of our many venues. Just don’t go over 3-minutes!

Creating my own website.

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 23:01:37 -0700

It’s kind of fun if you like procrastinating on the work in life that pays. I like procrastinating. I’ll never be a web designer or even web tinkler. But I can poke around on here and put up new pictures and wonder about things that don’t matter, like, “what will people think when they see this photo, or read this blog.” And of course the answer to that depends on whether or not anyone ever tunes into this website. I wouldn’t, but then, I don’t do most of the things other people do. Like procrastinate. I never procrastinate.