Trail Mix

Every morning I hike a few miles in Sabino Canyon, a beautiful spot in the Santa Catalina Mountain Range that began its formation over 12 million years ago. Hiking is one of the most exciting ways to explore the magic of the Southwest.

I like venturing off the beaten path, but even those who hike the main trail to the top of a mountain are expected to follow some basic rules:

1. Runners and hikers are expected to yield to equestrians, which makes a lot of sense unless you enjoy getting run over by a horse.

 2. Bicyclists are supposed to yield to everyone and to announce themselves when they are behind someone. They should avoid using a bullhorn, because that could spook a tourist, and spooked tourists leave bigger scat than non-spooked tourists.

 3. Anyone going downhill is supposed to yield to those gasping on their way uphill.

4. Groups of women should not block a trail, but if they do, it’s best to let them go ahead of you, so you don’t think you are being followed by a flock of cackling chickens.

5. Using headphones or ear buds is not a good idea, because you might miss a shout of “ mountain lion!” “I didn’t hear it coming” would look dumb in your obituary.

6. If you plan to go any further than the parking lot, carry water, wear a hat, bring sunscreen and carry a cell phone. I even carry a soccer whistle in case I come across game, and in the mountains that can be some game!

7. If you hike to the top of the mountain, remember you have only hiked half way, unless you want to jump off.

8. Leave no trace that you have been there. That means if you quaff an energy drink, you should have the strength to toss the can into a dumpster.

9. Share a friendly greeting. I often ask camera-snapping tourists if they’d like me to take their photo to include the photographer. Most visitors are thrilled, but not if I order someone to get into the picture and he doesn’t know those people.

10.  If you see a celebrity, leave him alone. One day, I spotted the model, Fabio running down the path with his long hair flowing behind him. Unfortunately, he was wearing a shirt.

During the summer season, we suffer a shortage of rain, but not a shortage of stupid. Someday, I’d love to own a tee shirt with a picture of a big cigarette and the words, “Keep your butt off of my trail.” By the way, everyone stops when a rattlesnake crosses the road. No one cares why he wants to get to the other side. Of course if you sit on a big rock to rest your footsies, you just might find out.

Esther Blumenfeld (there’s a tarantula on my welcome mat)

Umbrage---Take It Or Leave It

There are two secrets to becoming a writer:

 1. Place a chair in front of a computer, spread super glue on the seat of the chair--- and then sit on it.

  2. Get over being easily offended.

Over the years, I have collected enough rejections to paper the inside of a large city bus. Had I been easily offended, I would never have submitted my work elsewhere, nor enjoyed having my articles and books published, and my plays performed. As the saying goes, “No guts, no glory! Cal Taylor, an expert in creativity used to say, “If you get a rejection, wait a year and resubmit. Maybe they will have learned something.” A modicum of talent, extreme stubbornness, and several layers of thick skin are required.

Here are some actual quotes from some of the editors I encountered on my journey as a writer:

 “This is not what I want, but I don’t know what I want.”

“I am the most gifted editor you will ever work for, and I doubt that you will satisfy my high standards.”

“This article is too funny for our readers.”

“We cut the punch line out of your humor column, because we needed the space for a hemorrhoid ad.”

“Your book gave us lots of laughs and we all loved it, but we decided not to publish it.”

And then there was the rejection from a national magazine. The editors inadvertently left their notes to one another in the returned manuscript:

“Myrna, this is extremely funny. It’s a one-pager. I think we can get it for $500. What do you think?” And Myrna replied, “You are right, it’s hilarious, but do we need humor?”

Even a professional is allowed a little scream in one’s own garage.

Recently, I received an e-mail from my friend, Richard Lederer, the well-known linguist and writer of numerous funny books on language. He complimented me on a recent article, but gently pointed out a typographical error. He wrote, “I hope you aren’t offended.” My mother did not raise a fool. Why would I be vexed to have a famous writer edit my work---and do it for free?

However, if he sends me a bill, all bets are off!

Esther Blumenfeld (wishing certain editors an interesting life)

Who Are You?

In the poem, The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot wrote, “There will be time, there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that we meet.” I read the poem when I was in college, and throughout my life that particular line stuck with me.

It takes awhile to really get to know people, and even today, when I meet someone, I often wonder if I am meeting the person behind the mask. For 25 years, I observed a business associate who dramatically changed his persona depending upon the situation and with whom he was interacting. To this day, I don’t know if I ever really knew the man behind the faces he presented. I often wonder if somehow, somewhere, he lost his essence along the way.

I recently heard a lecture where the speaker emphasized the importance to, “Be yourself.” That, of course, can get a person into a lot of trouble. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, “Know thyself? If I knew myself, I would run away.”

Children are experts at being themselves. A friend’s granddaughter recently learned the ditty, “In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.” Being 6 years old, she didn’t know just how long ago that was, so she asked her grandparents, ”Were you guys alive back then?” Dr. Seuss would have approved when he advised, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

Being myself was never a terrible problem for me, but like everyone else there were times I had to present a different face to deal with difficult situations or difficult people. I’d have to tell myself, “Suck it up, and put on a nice face.” However, I never played the Let’s Pretend game so often that I lost myself in the process.

The famous actor, Gregory Peck was attending a party with his wife, when John Wayne approached them. After exchanging a few words, Wayne ambled away, and Gregory Peck turned to his wife and said, “He really believes he’s John Wayne.”

The Canadian essayist, Andre Berthiaume wrote, “We all wear masks, and the time comes, when we can’t remove them without removing some of our skin.”  

I guess each of us needs to decide how much skin we can afford to lose.

Esther Blumenfeld (“ Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be”) Fanny Brice.

With Quill In Hand

I like receiving mail. I don’t mean turn-on-your-computer mail. I mean handwritten-stamp-on-an-envelope mail. The other day, I received a lovely card from a woman I have never met, but I am going to keep it, and re-read it, because it gives me pleasure.

In a recent interview for Time Magazine the historian, David McCullough was asked, “We don’t write letters on paper anymore. How will this affect the study of history?” He replied, “The loss of people writing a letter is not just the loss for the record. It’s the loss of the process of working your thoughts out on paper, of having an idea that you would never have had if you weren’t writing. And, that’s a handicap. People I research were writing letters everyday. That was calisthenics for the brain.”

Life long pen pals, John and Abigail Adams exchanged more than 1,100 handwritten letters, and these letters provided a window into history.  Winston Churchill and Franklin Roosevelt were also prolific letter writers. Roosevelt wrote to Churchill, ”It is fun being in the same decade as you.” Love was never sweeter than when Napoleon Bonaparte penned to Josephine, “Sweet incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect on have on my heart.”

However, it’s the funny letters that I hold dear. No texting for Chopin who wrote to his friend, Julien Fontana about how miserable he felt after catching a bad cold: “Three doctors examined me. The first says I’m going to die. The second claims that I am actually dying, and the third told me that I am already dead.”

Sorry, but an e-mail wouldn’t have had the same impact as Groucho Marx’s penned note, when he wrote to S.J. Perelman, “From the moment I picked your book up until I laid it down, I was convulsed with laughter. Someday, I intend on reading it.”

I am a keeper of letters. The handwriting of my parents and grandparents is an intimate glimpse into the past. My Father’s handwriting looks like chicken scratches, but I always got the gist of what he wrote. My husband’s misspelled, printed words added to the humorous thoughts that came from a nimble mind. I have a friend who only writes in brown ink—a distinctive and endearing quality.

During my career, I was privileged to receive several letters from famous people. When Lynne Alpern and I co-authored, Mama’s Cooking: Celebrities Remember Mama’s Best Recipe, we requested recipes, photos and gems of advice that celebrities remembered from their mothers. I didn’t receive a recipe, but will always cherish this terse note:

            “Dear Authors, I have no memory of any gems from anybody.

            Most Sincerely, Lillian Hellman.

In her inimitable style, she had told us to, Stuff it you turkeys! You’ve got to love it.

Esther Blumenfeld (“I’m going to sit right down and write myself a letter")

Rats! It's A Dilemma

Every once in awhile, all of us are faced with a difficult situation with limited options which require a choice. This choice might involve equally unfavorable results. It’s called a dilemma, and I was faced with a doozy.

It was an exceedingly hot day, and I went to our community pool for a relaxing swim. When I got there, I saw a very large pack rat drowning in the water. I had several choices:

1. I could turn around and go back home.
2. I could bludgeon it to death, but I am not a killer.
3. I could save its hairy little hide. 

When I was a child, one day, I entertained myself by stepping on ants. My father took me aside and told me that all creatures have a place in this world, and that I was upsetting the balance of nature. The lesson took.

I decided on the third option and fished the rat out of the water with a pole that had a leaf collecting net. Now, the critter was struggling in the netting. I couldn’t put a live rat into the garbage can, so I threw it over the wall, hoping that it would find its way home.

The pool is well chlorinated. The rat had been better behaved than some of the neighborhood children with whom I have had to swim, and I remembered seeing my brother’s golden retriever swimming in their pool. So, I decided to get into the water, and spend my time in the deep end away from where the rat had been.

I floated on my back and watched a hawk circling in the sky. I hoped that he appreciated the balance of nature and liked marinated rat. When I got home, I took a shower. So far, it seems as if I have suffered no harm---except I have an insatiable craving for cheese.

Esther Blumenfeld (please pass the gouda)