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Diamond Head

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
This picture was taken when I finally felt strong enough to begin the trek back down. I admitted defeat. I looked awful, and I felt awful. But also, I was so very grateful. Things (mainly, me) could have been so much worse.

The topic of this week’s blog post involves our June trip to Oahu. In case you missed any of my earlier posts about our trip, I’m including the titles here. Click on the titles and you’ll be taken directly to that post.

Defining Disability

The Love Simulation

I Am Who I Am

When we began researching our family trip to Oahu, a visit to Diamond Head was one of the “must see’s” that showed up on list after list.

“Hawaii’s most recognized landmark is known for its historic hiking trail, stunning coastal views, and military history.”

“The 0.8 mile hike from trailhead to the summit is steep and strenuous, gaining 560 feet as it ascends from the crater floor.”

It didn’t take a lot of reading to realize a visit to Diamond Head isn’t easy for anyone, even someone in the best of health. Visiting Diamond Head required a “strenuous hike,” two words that don’t automatically come to mind when thinking of “things Wendy should do while on vacation.” 

My husband was the first to say we should skip it. Our seventeen-year-old son said he’d like to see it if possible. And, I said, “Of course we’ll go.”

When I told one of my closest friends about our upcoming trip and asked if she had any recommendations, she searched her phone, looking through the photos she had taken when last on Oahu. 

“There’s Diamond Head, but you’re not doing that,” she said.

“We already have reservations,” I said.

“Wendy…” she said. You could hear the rest of the unspoken sentence in just that one word. Wendy, what in the hell are you thinking? 

As I had explained to my husband and son, I wanted to see and do as much as I physically could. The truth is during the last couple of years my physical health has deteriorated. I am not as physically strong as I was. I own, and occasionally use, a wheelchair. Which is why, when it came to this trip, I wanted to see and do as much as possible, “while I still kind of can,” I told my family. 

We had reservations for Friday, June 13th. Maybe that was a sign.

I definitely should have paid more attention to the ambulance and helicopter we saw in the grassy field adjacent to the parking lot. 

“Maybe it’s for some sort of training exercise,” I said as I locked our rental car and double-checked my handicap placard hung from the rearview mirror. 

It wasn’t. 

Later in our visit, we heard the helicopter had been used for a rescue. 

We had our hats, our sunscreen, our bug spray, and water. We were ready. 

“Just take your time,” my husband said. 

I started off walking slowly, my usual speed. 

We stopped periodically to wipe the perspiration from our faces and to take sips of water. At times there was a handrail to hold onto. At times there was a bit of shade. Other times there were neither of those things. 

My husband repeatedly reminded me we could stop and turn back at any point. 

“Nope. I want to go as far as I can,” I said. Stubbornly, or stupidly, depending on your perspective.

The truth is I was worried and scared. About the steepness and the stairs I knew were soon to come. I didn’t know if my legs were strong enough. I worried this one outing would negatively impact the rest of our trip. (Remember it was Friday, June 13th. We weren’t flying back home until the following week, on Thursday, June 19th.)

Ultimately, it wasn’t my legs that forced made me stop; it was heat exhaustion.

I’ve always been sensitive to the heat. (Ask my dad to tell you about the infamous Dodger game we attended many years ago.)

But this time, it all kind of happened at once. I was over-heating. Dizzy. Nauseous. 

We found a spot, a ledge where I could plop. My husband dug in his backpack, producing a towel from the hotel. It felt like a magic trick. I was having a hard time concentrating, and my mind couldn’t make sense of how the towel had just appeared right when I needed it. (My husband had smartly packed the towel earlier that morning, without me knowing, without making a big deal out of it.) I turned my head, certain I was about to vomit, and trying my best to be as quiet and private as I could. 

Another woman sat nearby on the same rocky ledge. She was chatty, telling others who paused for a drink of water or to take a picture that she had a bad ankle. 

“I’m pretty proud I made it this far,” she said. 

Her husband had gone on ahead and would take pictures from the summit. She appeared so calm. So friendly, too, asking how I was doing and offering me anti-nausea pills. 

Why couldn’t I accept my physical limitations like this woman had? Why, instead, did I feel like I was letting down my son? Why did I feel weak and inept? Why did I feel like a failure? 

I was so quick to discount all I had done, how far I had gotten. (We stopped near a sign that read Audio Tour 9.) 

I have been living with this illness for fifteen years, and I still haven’t figured it all out, and I’m not sure I ever will. 

When am I persistent and determined? 

And when am I foolish and stupid to try and push through?

On the way back down the trail, we once again came across the woman with the bad ankle. 

“You’re looking a lot better,” she said. I thanked her for her kindness. 

I didn’t tell her I aspired to be more like her — accepting of her body’s limitations, content with her effort, satisfied with her experience. 

Diamond Head – best enjoyed from afar

I Am Who I Am

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
My husband took this photo, a quick, "Honey, look over here." And the result is this photo, one of my husband's favorites of me.

In early June, a week or so before we left Los Angeles for Honolulu, I spoke to my therapist about how self-conscious I felt about my 49-year-old body and how it looks in a bathing suit. 

“I’ve gained weight, and I don’t know if it’s because of the Prednisone or menopause, or both,” I said. 

“My bathing suit bottom doesn’t fit.”

“I need to buy new shirts.”

And on it went like that.

And, my therapist, being the kind, thoughtful, smart person that she is, said something so incredibly spot-on that it’s now become an internal mantra. 

“You are who you are,” she said.

When she said it, I knew it was a great phrase. But I didn’t realize during our Zoom session the impact of those five little words and how often those words would play on a repeating loop in my head. I relied on those words not just when we were in Oahu, and I looked at my bathing-suit-wearing-self in the bathroom mirror. 

Back home, I find those words to be a comfort, something I can carry with me and have available any time, and every time, I need it. 

Sometimes I softly repeat the words, I am who I am.

Other times I silently mouth the words, watching myself in the mirror. I am who I am.

On the one hand, it’s a super simple piece of advice, and yet it felt like something brand new, something I had never thought of before. Wise words I had been gifted. 

I am who I am.

Why waste my limited time and energy thinking negatively about how I look? Or how I don’t look? 

If a magic wand did exist, if I could swirl it around and abracadabra change my weight or the way my body looked, I wouldn’t use it.

The truth is I would much rather use that magic wand to alleviate my pain. Living with an invisible disability has taught me that I am so much more than my chronic illness. Likewise, I am so much more than numbers on a scale.

I am who I am. 

Dear Readers, do you have a mantra or phrase you use to help overcome difficult situations and/or help you get through a rough patch? If you’re comfortable doing so, please share in the comments.

The Love Simulation

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

When it came time for our family to start packing for our summer trip — a week in Oahu — there was one item in particular I had to give serious thought to: which book did I want to bring with me on vacation?

I had finished reading a novel two days before our trip. Which meant I had to make sure the book I packed, the book that would take up valuable carry-on space, would be a book that would grab my attention and not let go until the last page. A book that would distract me and keep me entertained while flying. A book that would keep me company as I looked up from the page every now and again, to gaze out at the endless Pacific Ocean, marveling at the many shades of blue. 

I couldn’t just randomly grab a book from my stack of not-yet-read books. Generally I alternate between fiction (lately rom-coms) and nonfiction (usually a memoir). I had just finished a novel; however, I broke my own rule and decided I needed a romantic comedy with me on the trip. A feel good story with a guaranteed happy ending. A book that wasn’t a question mark in any way. I didn’t want to take a chance and hope I would like this new book. I wanted a book I was certain to enjoy.

From the dozens of unread books I have at home, I chose The Love Simulation by Etta Easton. (You may remember I wrote about how much I enjoyed Ms. Easton’s debut novel, The Kiss Countdown. In case you missed it, you can click here to read that blog post.)

The Love Simulation was everything I hoped it would be. 

During our trip, we visited a spacious Barnes and Noble, and of course, I couldn’t leave without purchasing a book. While I roamed around the store and picked up several different titles, I decided to maintain the romance theme. I purchased Heidi Shertok’s Unorthodox Love. Though now that we’re home, I’m in the middle of reading a memoir, so Ms. Shertok’s rom-com will need to wait a bit. But I like knowing it’s here. As an added bonus, I felt quite proud to be supporting an African-American author and a Jewish author.  

Now my question for you, dear readers — what’s your decision-making process like when it comes time to pack a book for a trip? Do you bring physical books or e-books? Or, do you not read books at all and instead opt for magazines? I’d love to know. Feel free to share in the comments. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Blank

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Many readers are familiar with Zibby Owens and her many roles in the book world, including: her independent bookstore in Santa Monica, California (Zibby’s Bookshop), her podcast (“Totally Booked with Zibby,” formerly known as “Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books”), founder and CEO of Zibby Media – which includes her publishing house (Zibby Books), children’s book author (Princess Charming, published in 2022), anthology editor (Moms Don’t Have Time to Have Kids: A Timeless Anthology and Moms Don’t Have Time To: A Quarantine Anthology), and memoirist (Bookends: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Literature). 

And with the publication of Blank in 2024, we add novelist to the list.

I found myself quickly turning pages, not at all able to predict how things were (or weren’t) going to work out for our protagonist Pippa Jones. Plus, I was delighted to find many real life, book-related references throughout the novel, including the mention of the memoir My What-If Year (a memoir written by Alisha Fernandez Miranda, which was the first book published by Zibby Books) as well as a nod to real-life “Goodreads.com,” named “FabulousReads.com” in the novel.

(By the way, are we friends on Goodreads?)

The novel has a lot going on, tackling a range of topics including the publishing industry, female friendships, marriage and adultery, social media, and anti-Semitism. 

Honestly, my favorite parts were those that were clearly written as a celebration and tribute to the magic of books. Allow me to share a few passages:

“Publishing a blank novel would be a commentary on the literary world. I could say that I was addressing the reader’s almost nonexistent attention span. To keep the reader’s attention, they’d have to be able to read the words in, well, no time. To read this book, they wouldn’t have to do anything.”

“Imagine someone just came up with the idea of reading. Like, ‘Hey, let’s launch a product with no pictures, just words and letters. To enjoy it, you have to sit in one place and stare at it for hours, and then the whole story will slowly unfold just to you inside your brain. It might take you months to find out what happens in the end. It’s a completely solitary endeavor and you can’t do anything else at the same time. Oh, and you need to purchase it up front, hoping you’ll like it. But if you don’t, there’s no refund. Sorry! And there are literally millions of other products that look basically identical — some are great and some are terrible, and there’s almost no way to know ahead of time. Good luck. Go spend thirty dollars.’” 

“That’s what books are supposed to do:  connect readers to authors. Readers to each other. That’s why book clubs are so popular! It’s like that mural on Montana: ‘Stories are best when shared.’” (This is a nod to the mural outside of Zibby’s Bookshop, located on Montana Avenue in Santa Monica, California.)

This photo was taken back in January 2024

Friends — one more thing to share this week. If you didn’t see my Instagram post from a few days ago, I made some changes to the home page of my website. I’d love to know what you think. And, if you know of a reader, writer, and/or someone living with a chronic illness who might enjoy my weekly content, please let them know about my blog. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.



Defining Disability

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

The work in my Mastermind program continues. 

Part of our tasks has been to think about what we write and why. (I wrote a bit about this in a May blog post. Click here if you missed it.)

This week, however, I am sharing two photos with you as another example of what I write and why.

The photo shows my seventeen-year-old son and me parasailing, a week-and-a-half-ago during our family trip to Oahu. We calmly dangled 1000 feet above the Pacific Ocean. We talked and marveled at the incredible view below us and around us, noticing the quiet and the sense of peace we felt being that high up.

On that day, in those moments, my body was physically strong enough to climb aboard the boat, maneuver into the harnesses, and smile and wave at those down on the boat looking up at us. 

Yet back at the hotel, my backpack held my blue disabled parking placard. And when I left Los Angeles and arrived in Honolulu I received wheelchair assistance at both airports. (I also had wheelchair assistance at both airports for our return flight.)

Both situations are true. 

I may fit the more narrow, stereotypical idea of a disabled woman when someone sees me sitting in a wheelchair at the airport. 

But, I’m still a disabled woman, even when I’m gliding through the air, with a multi-colored parachute open behind us. 

And that is why I write — to demonstrate there is no definitive, one-and-done definition of disability.

Friends, I’m curious. Have any of you gone parasailing? Where? What was your experience like? Please feel free to share in the comments!

Lucy Sings on Lucy Street

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

You may remember I have written about Robin Roberts before. In case you missed it, you can read my post about Brighter By the Day by clicking here.

Click here to read this post featuring From the Heart.

And click here to read my post about Everybody’s Got Something.

I’m definitely a fan. 

This week’s post features Lucy Sings on Lucy Street by Lawrence Roberts and Sally-Ann Roberts (siblings of Robin Roberts), with an epilogue by Robin Roberts. 

Not only is this a charming children’s book with delightful illustrations by Jestenia Southerland, it’s the story of how I came to own this book that makes it even more special to me. 

A friend of mine surprised me by ordering this picture book and having it sent to my address. She and I both admire Robin Roberts and find inspiration in the words she has written. It’s a natural extension, then, that we would both want to support a children’s book written by two of Robin’s siblings and inspired by their beloved mother, Lucimarian “Lucy” Tolliver. 

My friend knew that. And she didn’t just tell me about the book, she bought me a copy and completely surprised me by having it delivered to my home. 

At its heart, the book has a timeless, ageless message:

“Life is filled with ups and downs.

No matter what,

keep a song in your heart.

Keep singing.” 

In the book, Lucy’s family is experiencing tough times and struggling during the Depression. But through it all, Lucy finds comfort in her family, her singing, and her good friend, Wanda.

Friends. How lucky Lucy was to have Wanda as her good friend.

And how lucky I am to have Nina F. as my good friend. (There are two Nina’s in my life, so I’m using the teacher technique to differentiate between the two special Nina’s I know.)

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


Love + Books

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

June is Pride Month, sometimes referred to as LGBTQ Pride Month. It’s a time of celebration and reflection and commemoration.

As a white woman married to an African-American man and the mother of a mixed-race son, I understand – to an extent – how it feels to love someone some members of society may say I have no business loving. 

But love isn’t business. 

And who I love is of no one else’s concern. 

By extension, who someone chooses to love and the pronouns and gender someone chooses to identify with (or not) are none of my concern. (Also, I do realize there is so much more to Pride Month than what I’m suggesting here.)

So I’ll keep this post relatively short and to the point. 

And look to my candle for words of wisdom — All you need is love and books. 

This week, I’m posting a rainbow stack of books, featuring (in ROY G BIV order):

How to Walk Away by Katherine Center

Leaving Orbit: Notes from the Last Days of American Spaceflight by Margaret Lazarus Dean

Magical Meet Cute by Jean Meltzer 

Royal Holiday by Jasmine Guillory 

Call Us What We Carry: Poems by Amanda Gorman

Colors of Paris by Mike Gerrard

This week (and all weeks, really), let’s celebrate love and books, in all their beautiful forms. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Time to Take a Seat

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
Image Credit: Wishbone Words Magazine

Friends, I’m pleased to share that my personal essay, Time to Take a Seat, has been published in Wishbone Words Magazine, Issue 15. 

This piece was a difficult one to write. It’s a personal essay that went through many revisions before I submitted it.  

It’s a personal essay about my decision to purchase a wheelchair. 

I’m grateful Wishbone Words Magazine provides this space for me and other “disabled, chronically ill, and/or neurodiverse writers and artists” to share our experiences and our creations in a safe, inclusive space. 

You can click here to learn more about purchasing Wishbone Words Magazine, Issue 15. 

Image Credit: Wishbone Words Magazine

What I Write and Why

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I am currently participating in a three-month (May1 – July 31) Mastermind program run by Dan Blank. This Mastermind is different than the one I wrote about in March. (If you missed that post, you can click here to read it.)

This Mastermind uses the ideas and information Dan wrote about it in his book Be the Gateway. I read this book a couple of years ago and wrote about it here. I’m re-reading the book, to coincide with our weekly topics. 

Why am I doing all this? Because I believe there is an audience for my memoir-in-essays. And while I continue to research publishing paths (so far, I have entered a couple of competitions which offer a publishing contract to winners), I want to make sure I’m as ready as I can be for that publication journey. I want my online presence — my website, my weekly blog, my Instagram account, and my as-of-now-unwritten Substack, to be as solid and welcoming to my readership as they can be. I want to make clear what it is I write and why I write it. 

With that in mind, this week I’d like to share with you, my dear weekly blog readers, something I shared with the Mastermind group just last week. The comments had involved thinking of our own missions and our creative work and what our creative work promises to others. I wrote:

“Dan, lots to think about here. As you spoke about the transformation our mission and our work promises something clicked for me. I was transported back in time, when I received my diagnosis, and later that day went home and Googled this rare autoimmune disease of mine. I found a handful to links. That’s it. I wanted to know someone else out there in this big world of ours was living with the same chronic illness and still fully living their life. I wanted to know I wasn’t going to feel sick forever. I wanted to know what happened next, after coming home with a name for the symptoms I had been experiencing. And I couldn’t find out any of those things. That is why I write what I do. That’s the transformation I hope to provide for my readers.”

And from that, I’m proud to share My Mission Statement with you — what I create and why:

“Everyone lives with pain and scars of some kind; some easily visible, some seemingly invisible. I write personal nonfiction to demonstrate the wide-ranging experiences of disability and to offer connection and support to others living with chronic illness and chronic pain.”  

Thank you, friends, for being on this journey with me! I welcome any feedback or comments you have. Please feel free to share.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


Glow in the F*cking Dark

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Two years ago (yikes! already?) I wrote a blog post in praise of Tara Schuster’s Buy Yourself the F*cking Lilies. (In case you missed it, click here to read that blog post.)

This week’s blog post is in praise of Ms. Schuster’s second book, Glow in the F*cking Dark: Simple Practices to Heal Your Soul from Someone Who Learned the Hard Way. 

Once again, I found so many statements that caused me to pause my reading. Sometimes I re-read those statements. Other times, I sat and thought about what I had read and thought about how that applied to my life or why that statement resonated with me. 

This week, I’m sharing some of those statements with you:

“We are stars. I mean that quite literally. Most of the elements that make up our bodies came from the Big Bang, from the very things that make up stars. I think you’ve probably heard that before and it isn’t a fable, it’s true. Isn’t that just about the most enchanting thing to think about? That you are made of stars?”

“I know you have the power to glow because you already do. The human body is bioluminescent. It glows on its own. Ultrasensitive cameras can photograph our natural radiance. So, you glow already, whether you like it or not. Now is the time to clear off the dirt, the cobwebs, and the ghosts that are obscuring the shine within you and set that glow free.”

This book, Ms. Shuster writes, is “… for anyone who is tired, hurting, and feeling like their shine is gone.”

This statement is listed as one of Ms. Schuster’s life truths:  “When we try to fight reality, we lose. The more we reject how we actually feel, and the real circumstances of our lives, the more pain we put ourselves in. I’ve come to realize that the distance between how things are and how I want them to be is the exact measure of my suffering.” 

“My life is boring and predictable and because of that it’s easier to be creative and content. BEING BORING IS AMAZING! I spend almost no time thinking about how I will structure the ‘free’ blocks in my day because the rituals I have created have taken the heavy lifting out of the mundane.” 

“One of my favorite quotes in the whole wide world comes from the author Annie Dillard — she wrote, ‘How we spend out days is, of course, how we spend our lives.’ Spend your days living what you care about and feel yourself light up with life. Your life.” 

And since I find it way too easy to find fault with my body (how it looks, how it does and doesn’t function), I loved this: “… now I see my body for what it is — a living, breathing, moving sculpture, one of a kind and priceless, worthy of my absolute care and adoration.”
“What about body gratitude? What about the fact that if you have a body, even if it comes with complications and pain, you can ultimately be glad to be on earth?”

“I think this fear of making ‘bad’ choices is why we very often end up on our ‘Good Enough Plateaus,’ where it’s safe and comfy and there’s a Starbucks around the corner and we know exactly what we can get.”
“… but we get into real trouble when we start believing that’s it, when we stop expanding, growing, and shoving off on new adventures. Then we deprive ourselves of the opportunity not only to mature and taste a richer life but also to deepen our experience by knowing what it means to come up short.”

“… if you truly appreciate the unbelievably precious gift of your being, you will do everything to live it to its very fullest. That’s how we show gratitude for our existence, damn it!”  

My dear readers, have any of you read Ms. Schuster’s book(s)? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.