This is my first blogpost in my new website. I say “in” because I view the website as a home.
Granted I can’t give you schnitzel for lunch, nor can I offer you to sit in the yellow wingback
chair in the kitchen, but still, this site is my home—the place where I connect with you
through writing and singing, from my room of my own in Haifa to my home of my own on
the web. Textured and peeling walls, sunlight and shadow—a place where I can share all my
voices.
WriteInIsrael.com, my former website, was a wonderful place. It still exists, but I stopped
visiting when David and I left Tel Aviv for Haifa in July, 2019.
I felt guilty ignoring you on my old site during Corona, but I used those lockdowns for
growing a new skin in an old, neglected, beautiful city. Instead of writing, I played the piano.
Instead of poems, I wrote music and songs. Instead of walking on level ground, I climbed up
and down stairs, for Haifa is a city, not only of Sea, but also of Stairs.
When freedom to wander returned, rather than teach creative writing, as I did in Jerusalem,
Beit Zayit and Tel Aviv, I became a student of voice, piano, jazz and dance. Who knew that
one’s seventies could be the kiln for developing latent talents. I even went back to Yoga, after
a fifteen-year break, and today I can do The Plow!!
My professional haircutting chair enjoys a prime location on the porch, facing two old spruce
trees and the branches of a neighbor’s eucalyptus—a lovely place to have your hair cut,
should you be in Haifa and feeling adventurous. After Ann Hood’s daughter died (Comfort: A
Journey Through Grief, Norton, 2008), she took up knitting. She needed to be busy with her
hands. I started cutting hair the year after my mother died, but I have yet to figure out the
relationship. Subject for a future essay.
My goal in my new web home is to emphasize honesty and vulnerability. I look forward to
new relationships with old and new readers.
Feel free to write me directly from the Contact “room.” I especially look forward to reading
your reactions to Our Names Do Not Appear, my first book. If you are an Emily Dickinson
fan, please let me know.
Take your time roaming the site.
Again, Welcome Home. And when you leave, watch out for the wild boar in the garden.
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