25 Thoughts at the H-Ocean
In Montauk, looking out from our porch at the hocean.
That’s what one of my grandmothers called the ocean. The hocean.
I’ve been thinking of her, of both of my grandmothers.
I’m thinking more about my grandchildren.
I’m thinking, too, about other family members.
The hocean and David Sedaris’s new book, “Calypso,” which I read out here, are making me think of my family.
Sedaris’s parents, siblings, husband, humor, and pain invariably do that.
Humor in pain. Pain in humor. Of course.
My husband is on the beach now re-reading Mark Twain.
My father always had a Mark Twain book on his night table.
And quoted Twain all the time.
I’m going to share a great Twain quote on writing at my Jewish Book Council workshop Wednesday, Sept. 5. I know two of the people who have already registered. Link to Register.
I’m excited to teach this workshop Wednesday. I’ve loved my summer classes.
And hated the bout of ‘occipital neuralgia’ I got upon arriving in Montauk.
It’s a nerve thing in the head. I had it 4 years ago. I phoned my neurologist in NYC who diagnosed and treated it.
He died.
His son, who took over his practice, told me to take Aleve.
My neurologist’s death is a shocker.
So is his having a neurologist son, who took over his practice.
I thought the son of my now deceased neurologist was much younger. Like in lower elementary school.
Jonathan said maybe he is.
Laughter helps.
Everything.
I’m better now. Sunshine, swimming, lobster rolls, and Sedaris helped.
So does the hocean.
