Burnt Chocolate Stories

 I created Burnt Chocolate over twenty years ago, shortly after our son Ben was diagnosed with ALS. After my first few posts Ben asked, "Don't you want to write about anything else?" I did actually, but I was consumed with his illness, worried for his future and felt ill equipped to handle this devastation. I forced myself to write about my children, grandchildren, interests, travel, but ALS often crept in unannounced to my commentary. That's how I feel today. I wake up and the first thing I do is read Heather Cox Richardson's essay and become consumed with the battering our country is taking. Then I read my neighbor, Vicky Shufton's post, and feel unhinged. My worries do nothing to change the situation. I've joined the protestors, written postcards but feel powerless. Blaming every issue on immigrants has become the scapegoat of the current administration. These are good people seeking a better way of life for themselves and their children. But they shoul...

 Today is a day filled with chocolate covered strawberries, red roses and perfume for loved ones. And while I enjoy the goodies, I've felt putting aside a day to celebrate love is like putting aside a day to enjoy a good meal. Every day deserves celebrating our loved ones, telling them we love them, and putting aside old wounds so they can heal. As some of you know, I am writing a novel. Although it is a work of fiction, it also contains the love I feel for grandparents I barely knew, for their courage and love for a granddaughter they would never know. They saved me from a life of constant persecution because we are a Jewish family. Not that anti-semitism isn't alive and well in the United States because it is and always has been. I attended a program recently on the current politics our country is enduring. There were excellent charts presented with percentages of the numbers of people who support Trump's agenda and those who are against it. 35% for 59% against. Someone i...

Part of being human is making mistakes. Some of us have no problem owning up to them. Others feel they would lose their authority, or feel diminished, if they admitted they had taken a wrong turn. Saying 'I'm sorry' or 'I screwed up' or 'I made a mistake' are words I've said more times than I can count. It's a freeing experience for those who have never tried it. And I think it creates a strong human connection and provides the opportunity for forgiveness. Why am I thinking about this today? Mostly because there are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of people, neighbors and friends, who supported Trump in his early days and might have regrets today. Unsure of what to do or say, they remain silent and perhaps feel ashamed. And that's sad for themselves and for the rest of us. I admit I'm also a little sheepish about bringing up the topic, fearful it might lead to blows. At the same time, I think it's worth the risk.  The funny thing is...