Citizen of the World

On Saturday night, at the conclusion of Lady Gaga’s “One World Together at Home” concert, I wept as she and a host of brilliantly talented musicians ended with “The Prayer.” Andrea Bocelli, Celine Dion, John Legend, Lang Lang on the piano, and Gaga herself stunned us all, stopped us in our tracks as they gave us a vehicle for our grief as well as a path to the hope we must have to continue in

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Sharing on Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving, my favorite daughter, about whom I’m not allowed to write, is trekking in Nepal. She sent me this picture this morning. She told me about the wonderful people she is meeting and how hard their lives appear to be. The only reason I can post it is that I’m counting on the fact she won’t see it.

It took me back to a memory I’d forgotten. Another Thanksgiving.

When Sarah was seven, it

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Those who know me well know that I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for a long time. If I were allowed to blog about fabulous daughter Sarah, I would say that she made it very clear that if I got a tattoo my motherhood status would sink to zero. Since I never wanted her to dye her hair and she hasn’t, I have steered away from the parlors that beckon.

When asked what I want

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Finding Perspective.

I don’t know how to find perspective in wake of this most recent violence in Boston, just an hour from where I call home. Twelve years ago, I had perspective. I physically witnessed both planes fly into the Towers. I knew people who lost their lives. I heard first-hand personal stories from those I held dear. It was easier then. I was part of the fray, and I was honored to feel the pain from

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Olympic Perspective

Gabby’s hair? You can’t be serious. The girl flings herself up off the uneven bars with no fear; she flips backwards on the balance beam with her arms gently limp at her side, muscles bulging in a perfect line. And you want to talk about her hair? Who are you people? Besides, it’s not like it was hanging in dirty clumps or anything. The truth is, I never noticed her hair and neither should you.

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Olympic Opening Ceremony

I love the Olympics. Not surprising, considering how much I love my country. I consider my birth here to be one of the greatest gifts the luck of the draw has given me.

I always love the opening ceremonies, and I was totally enthralled with the London Opening Ceremony. My friend Samantha lives on the West Coast and shares my love of the Olympics. She texted me about two hours into the replay on the

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I know. I never heard of it either, but not only is fragging a real thing, it’s a really awful thing.

I am in a screenwriter’s group. (Ok, although I’m in this group, I haven’t presented my screenplay yet. But writing it as if I were really ready to accept my Academy Award is tons of fun.) Last night, someone who had been in the military in Afghanistan was presenting his script and talking about

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Movie Review: The King’s Speech

Colin Firth, welcome to the big time. You are a magnificent actor and we expect you to rise to great heights from now on. No more Bridget Jones for you. Those days are over. Sure, there were signs (Pride and Prejudice), but nothing like the incredible breadth of this role and nothing as difficult to bring to us. Your performance in The King’s Speech is Oscar worthy, and perhaps even more important, worthy of being

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Two Sides to Every Story; Missionaries Arrested in Haiti

I’ve been out of the loop a bit recently. I’ve been traveling and busy at work and away from the fray of politics, media, and especially Haiti. At a dinner last night, there was talk about the missionaries from the good ole US of A who went into Haiti, took 100 children and were “going to the Dominican Republic with them to set up an orphanage.” They had no paperwork for the kids, no proof

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Pat Robertson and Haiti

I understand that I’m an opinionated person who sometimes can’t see another point of view. I think we are all held hostage by the movie running in our heads about what we think about this and that. It doesn’t offer commercial interruptions from others who might hold a different point of view. I try very hard to “seek to understand, rather than to be understood,” and rarely get there. But then there are times when

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