Write Around the Block

One of the best rewards of working with people from all over the country is hearing their stories. In my writing classes this winter there were stories from Texas cafes, a Mandarin Chinese classroom, and a Brunswick, Georgia, farm. There were accounts of Depression-era Iowa and wartime London. There were chronicles of Sixties war protestors at the University of Wisconsin and murders near Vassar. There were ancestral legends of long, arduous journeys from England and Ireland and Switzerland and Germany. And ribald tales from Canadian logging camps and South Georgia bars.

Today is officially my last day of the spring term with Around the Block students, and Thursday was my last day for my Jekyll Island students. My next teaching gigs are in April with the University of Richmond’s Continuing Studies and Chesterfield County’s Lifelong Learning Institute. So while I have the month of March to work on my own writing, I will miss the stories.

It was a grand journey, complete with lush scenery, charming dialects, and strong-minded characters, both real and imagined. I look forward to April.

When I was in college, my Catholic roommates always gave up something for Lent. Terri gave up smoking and then suffered through nicotine withdrawal until the moment she could light up immediately following communion on Holy Thursday. Pam gave up sweets, but never survived much longer than a week before she caved in to chocolate. I came from a frugal Protestant family who believed in saving rather than giving up anything, so the concept of sacrifice was lost on me. My church spent the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter holding Lenten Lunches, Soup Suppers, and a Maundy Thursday Pot Luck, followed by worship.

In recent times I notice there has been a movement among all Christians to focus on giving or sharing or helping someone out during Lent, rather than sacrificing something we enjoy. I like that notion very much.

Tonight Tom and I are going to a Mardi Gras party on Jekyll Island hosted by our friends, Jerry and Carolyn. Jerry and Carolyn are true born Southerners, while most of the rest of us are Northerners, Yankees soaking up some sun before we return to colder climates. There will be food and drink and conversation and lots and lots of beads. “No one is leaving here without taking their share of beads,” Carolyn says. “I’ve got way too many of them.”

So we will wear our beads and eat King Cake with the little plastic baby inside. We will drink and laugh. We will enjoy what Carolyn calls our “gracious plenty,” because by Easter most of us will be gone from this little island. Our time is short and we want to share it in good company.

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Hugh Jackman did a lovely job on the opening number, and it was refreshing to see the homemade stage props instead of the tech-stravaganzas we’re generally treated to. But, alas, he flashed at the beginning, and by the time he did his song and dance with Beyonce, I was over him, and wishing for Jon Stewart.

Liz and I concur: we applaud the new touch of the old winners inducting nominees into the fold. De Niro was hilarious; it’s nice to see him being a human who doesn’t shoot people. Hard to imagine Sophia Loren, dressed like Scarlett O’Hara Italian-style, could be scarier than black-clad Shirley Maclaine in whatever life she’s living at the moment. But Shirley seemed pretty down-to-earth compared to Sophia, who may be a few facelifts over the top.

As far as presenters go: I loved Will Smith’s relaxed bearing, and how charmingly he handled himself when he misspoke. He is still the Fresh Prince of anywhere he stands. I give the Robert Raspberry to Ben Stiller, who made a fool of himself in his attempt to make a fool of Joaquin Phoenix, who doesn’t need any help in that department, thank you. And even though Joaquin has renounced acting for the time being, he could always act figure eights around Stiller, who has the dramatic depth of sheet metal.

Oscar, either being inflated or deflated. I leave that judgment to you.

Lest I descend into utter nastiness, I’ll stop now.

Left to right: Sara Kay Rupnik, Liz Abrams-Morley, Tracy Robert at Hazen Manor, Findley Lake, New York, in July 2008.

Because we are three different women living three different lives in three very different places, one of us is usually doing something of interest. Well, most of the time anyway. Wherever we are, we hope to share little bits of scenery, local color, and what we are doing.

Tracy is the California native. Liz lives in downtown Philadelphia. Sara is seeing out the winter in Coastal Georgia. We are writers and teachers. We love movies and a good glass of wine. We love travel and food. We love a good sale and good gossip.

We met at Vermont College’s MFA in Writing Program in the Summer of 1989 and established Around the Block Writers Collaborative in 2003. We hold January Writing Workshops in Jekyll Island, Georgia, and July Writing Workshops in Findley Lake, New York. The chance of meeting at least one of us is good, so stay tuned as each of us shares thoughts on her writing life.