The Story Behind ‘ The Jewish Lady, The Black Man and The Road Trip’ by Carol Sue Gershman

My lover walked out on me and I wanted to get him back! I took all of my negative energy and pain and turned it into writing. He and he alone was my inspiration!

It all started when I took a memoir writing course at Dade County College. I had previously written a two and half page story about a road trip I had taken with him and brought it an as an assignment. My friends and family had enjoyed my story.

Well, the class did not feel the same, thinking it was poorly written and kind of blah! I was more than insecure about myself as a writer and remember feeling terrible but challenged/ For the next four classes, I rewrote the story countless times becoming more and more inspired.

After one month I announced to my teacher, that I was going to write a book. I was on a mission. I wanted to shock my lover with our written story. We would read it together, realize our mistakes and go back together again.

For nine months morning noon and night all that I did was write. One day during one of the months the management knocked on the door saying there was water coming from my apartment. I said, “not here.” I turned around a saw a flood almost to my feet – that is how absorbed I was into writing.

It has been a joy and the whole process huge, bringing me on to new dimensions in my life that I never thought possible. In some ways, I am a completely different person.

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Constantly reinventing herself, Carol Sue Gershman attended the Miami Dade College memoir class and decided that she would turn her two and a half page “Adventure in Love Story” into a book. Never having written before, it was passion that drove her each day to write.

After spending 25 years in New York City, she was one of the first to arrive into the new phenomenon of Miami Beach (South Beach) She is presently writing her next book while working on laws to ban
smoking in residential buildings.

Now at 73 she will take her completed book back on the road re-living the cities and states visited on the road trip. You might just see her driving her hot yellow mustang convertible packed with books, hats and what it takes for life on the road.

You can visit her website by clicking here.

The Story Behind Tails of Sha’ar Hagai by Myrna Shiboleth

Imagine a typical “Jewish American Princess” finding herself, inadvertently and to her own astonishment, a “pioneer” in Israel.  From a comfortable upper middle class metropolitan life, she is transplanted to living in a modern day wilderness, without electricity or telephone, trying to make a living working with dogs, horses, and other animals (not a particularly respected or profitable profession in this part of the world), and to cope with the very foreign Middle-Eastern mentality.  That girl was me, and I (apparently a masochist through and through) am still in Israel, after years of struggle, smiles, tears, and adventures, telling the story of my attempts to survive life in Israel under conditions totally different from any I had experienced before or from anything I might have expected. The only things that enabled me to survive were an invincible stubbornness and a sense of humor.

The book begins with an introduction to Shaar Hagai, an overgrown and long abandoned group of buildings dating from the British mandate, perched on a hillside over the main road between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The next few chapters explore what brought me to this point in my life –  family background and an unexplainable attraction to animals and odd lifestyles.

Moving to Israel is just the start of a series of adventures.  Coping with a strange and totally different mentality as I try to support myself doing the things I love – but which are not so acceptable in Israel, especially when done by a woman – result in some very strange and funny experiences.  There are many animals sharing my life – first and foremost are the many and varied dogs, but there are also raccoons, cats, gazelles, geese, goats, sheep, horses, and Baba the striped hyena.  And of course, the varied people that are part of this world – “sabras”, abrasive and hard to understand for an American born and bred, Arabs from the nearby village, other immigrants from varied countries – all a challenge.  Marriage and raising a family Israeli pioneering style is part of life at Shaar Hagai, as well as having to cope with various disasters ranging in seriousness from a badly leaking roof to a major forest fire.

There are also adventures outside of Israel – three years spent in the heart of Africa as the unconventional wife of a career diplomat, and some rather unorthodox trips to Europe and other more exotic destinations, accompanied by a pack of dogs and non-conformist  friends.

Life at Shaar Hagai has never been easy – but it has certainly never been boring!  I found, over the years, that the only way to survive and stay reasonably sane was not to take myself too seriously.  Tails of Shaar Hagai is a humorous look back at my life – a life very different from what is experienced by most.

Actually, I wrote this book for myself.  I wanted to preserve all the adventures I have had over the years, and thought that writing them down would be the best way.  Then I could pass the stories on to my grandchildren. Once I started writing and re-reading what I had written, and letting friends read parts of it, I realized that it actually was pretty good and quite funny, and that maybe I could become the James Herriot of Israel.  Who knows?

Myrna Shiboleth is an animal behaviorist, world champion dog breeder and international dog show judge, and is acknowledged as the world authority on Canaan Dogs, one of the few remaining breeds of feral dogs in the world. After growing up in the U.S. and receiving a degree from Northwestern University in art, she made a radical change in her life by emigrating to Israel.  She has worked at a variety of animal related occupations over the years, including stable manager and riding instructor, kennel manager and dog trainer, advisor on dog behavior to the Israel Defense Department, keeper and animal trainer at the Safari Park, and more. Her previous book, The Israel Canaan Dog, has been published in two editions. She lives and breeds Canaan Dogs and collies at Shaar Hagai Farm in Israel, lectures and instructs in Israel and abroad on a wide variety of dog related subjects, writes for professional publications in Israel and abroad, and continues to enjoy new adventures with her dogs.

www.sephirotpress.com

www.canaandogs.info

www.collies-israel.com

THE TABLET OF MY HEART by Elizabeth Walker

When I was eight years old I lost my voice. Not literally, figuratively. It was buried under the weight of sexual molestation. When I “lost my voice” I found a pen. I couldn’t get past the shame I felt in order to tell someone so I started writing my fears and my secrets between the covers of a tablet that became my childhood diary. While I did eventually tell, my writings had a lot to do with leading me to the point where I understood that I needed to. In black and white the tablet held fear, anger, confusion and finally, healing – But in essence the tablet held my heart.

Years down the road and after 10 years of marriage, I found myself a single mother with four young sons who’s hearts were broken by the absence of their father. As if divorce is not hard enough on a child, my kids’ father was not just absent from their home he was smack in the middle of a cocaine addiction and had little interest and little contact with them at all.

In the process of fighting the odds of ending up on welfare, going back to work, moving them from the only house they ever remembered living in, and convincing them in the midst of the earthquake that had become their lives, that we were going to make it – I saw in their faces the same distrust, the same disbelief that I felt when I was a child in the middle of loss and abuse, the first time someone told me “It’s going to be ok. This storm won’t last forever.”

So…..I couldn’t tell them we would make it to the end of this pain, I had to show them. That illustration began with telling them (gradually) about my childhood story. The story of victory over the pain of the abuse that I endured as a child, so that they could see that healing happens, not just hear it. In order to get to a victory, there first had to be trial. That story of victory began in my childhood journal.

As I thumbed through the writings an idea was born. During this mission to help my sons learn to let go of their anger and heal, maybe I could reach even more people. I decided that I would publish portions of the journal and donate from the proceeds to an organization that helps abused children. That outreach, I decided, would be the best illustration of healing that I could possibly paint for them.

Originally I had planned to publish only the poetry but as I read through them I thought that they might better serve their purpose if I added a little background to the prose. I found myself in touch with pieces of my heart that I had not entertained for years. The project kind of took off without me and took on it’s own form right beneath my nose. The narration turned into a flowing story and the poetry became just a piece of the bigger picture. By the time the manuscript was finished I had in my hands what began as an emotional hurricane and ended as a generously watered garden. A journal of abuse and more importantly healing, that read like a story. My story.

The boys (my kids) and I made it through some incredibly difficult times in the past few years. They had a hands on lesson in the devastation left in the wake of addiction, as they are still sorting through the wreckage. I learned, once again, that I was stronger than I thought I was, though I believe that my strength was a product of my kids’ faith in me. They went from having mom and dad, to just mom, to day cares and babysitters as I took on two jobs to make ends meet, to crummy neighborhoods and frightening neighbors – but we made it! We made it together. We’re wet, but we made it to edge of the storm.

By no means are we a “perfect family” by definition but they are experiencing hope and healing and I have witnessed a beautiful thing happen in them; I have watched them defy the term “hurting people, hurt people” as they have learned by demonstration that – helping people heal, helps heal. The Tablet of My Heart has a little something to do with that in their lives – we hope that publishing it might have a little bit to do with that kind of healing in some one else’s life too.

A portion of the proceeds from The Tablet of My Heart are donated to Childhelp USA for the treatment and prevention of child abuse. Visit them at www.childhelp.org.

Elizabeth Walker is the author of the memoir, The Tablet of My Heart. You can visit her website at www.tabletofmyheart.net. To read an extended bio, click here!

A FULL HOUSE – BUT EMPTY by Angus Munro: “…I decided to write my story…growing up in the Great Depression.”

After completing thirty-nine years in hospital administration (in both California and Alaska) in 2003, I decided to retire. As a divorced man and having been a workaholic most of my life, I wondered what the prospects would be of having to throw in the towel devoid of further plans or goals. In pondering this (in limbo) situation, I decided to write a story regarding my growing up years during the Great Depression in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

I had an interesting but somewhat hectic childhood. However, during the difficult Depression from the age of seven-years-old through eleven, I ironically experienced the most wonderful part of my life. Prior to my retirement, to assist their working parents, I had been very actively involved in helping to take care of my two great nephews, Kyle, age eleven and Grant, age eight. These lads were so close in age to my happy growing up life span. I definitely decided to share those years with them.

When I completed this draft, my nephew, Paul – the lads’ father stated that I needed to continue to write my total life experiences. He firmly stated that I had had an interesting and successful life worthwhile reviewing and telling others. As a somewhat rather private person, who had actually, apart from those years, experienced a rather hectic and unorthodox background, I wasn’t certain I wanted to expose myself by uncovering those events. However, beyond the sad memories, as a mature adult, I decided it would be both constructive and feasibly cathartic to continue the story.

Waiving the childhood chaotic events, at age three, I was raised by my father, along with my sister, Laura, age 6 and Marjorie, an infant. Referring to those four happy years, we had united with the Inglehart family, a father with five children, whose marital status and circumstances were similar to those of my father. Both fathers came from farming families. After WW II started in Canada in 1939 our families parted when I reached age eleven. At age fourteen, after repeating the seventh grade twice – due to an unfortunate incident, I dropped out of school.

At seventeen, I was working in a sawmill, tossing lumber ends from a conveyor belt. At home, my father who was an outside foreman for a large oil and coal company, was a great partygoer. Our home was like a mini Grand Central Station with either parties or poker games weekly and in both cases lasting all night.

One evening, a theological student from the University of British Columbia (UBC) joined a group at my father’s pub club – who all thereafter arrived it our home for a party. The student, George started to attend our parties regularly. Apart from his university studies, he was also very active and president of the largest teen town center in Vancouver. He stopped by one evening and delivered a Dutch uncle speech to me. He informed this grade-school dropout and complete failure to get off of my ass and get moving. He suggested that I enroll in a local high school and take evening classes in both accounting and typing to acquire some basic skills. Further, to seek a white-collar entrance position in a company that would offer future promotional considerations. I countered by saying what a failure I had been and that I had no basic skills and nothing to offer. He quickly responded that he was certain I had above average intelligence with a great potential and to stop dwelling on circumstances. I immediately started taking evening classes as he suggested and started working for the T. Eaton Company in an entrance position.

My story continues moving up the ladder starting from the lowest rung. I became very success, despite my very limited beginnings. I spent nine years in the petroleum business and I was scheduled for a junior executive position in their home office. I decided to change careers and entered into hospital administration. I was very successful and spent thirty-nine years in healthcare as a director with staffing complements ranging from fifty-five to seventy employees.

I was so grateful to my theological student friend, George, who opened the door for me. Apart from George, the crux of my story, is the wonderful knowledge and goodness that I received from my somewhat rebellious father who taught me by example his wonderful attributes and basic people skills. He always said, “Do the right thing, regardless of the circumstances!” And further to those sagacious and profound thoughts, my motto has been, “Whatever you do, follow through!”