Kathryn Mayer • Writing Out Loud
I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
My contribution for 1000 Voices Speak for Compassion. #1000speak When you’re witness to the worst nightmare possible as our town was with the Sandy Hook shooting, you would think it would be impossible to ever feel anything but overwhelming sorrow and grief ever again. And yet, in the after, what I recall is the overwhelming sense of love and compassion that flooded our streets and went to work to heal our broken hearts. In
After the Sandy Hook shooting, December 14th is forever remembered the world over as the worst of times, as it should be. Except when it’s not. Here in Newtown, there was a huge push in the days following the shooting to rename the horrific massacre 12-14 to save the stigma from being directly associated with Newtown and Sandy Hook. But you never heard that from me, as I ignored such pleas
Originally written on December 17, 2012. The media is suffocating, clogging the roads and parking lots with bright lights and satellite dishes and polished professionals putting on too much makeup in their caravans before venturing out to stick a camera in our weary faces. But I don’t want them to go away. Because as hard as it is to see my quiet sleepy town on the 24 hour news cycle,
This is not the post I want to write, but it’s one I have to write. I’d like to think you have no idea what it’s like for people in Newtown, and especially our vulnerable Sandy Hook families, to get that reverse 911 call: the automatic alert set up for emergency school closures, in case of, you know, a snowstorm. Or a broken water pipe. Or a low-to-no threat bomb scare and
I went to Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop desperately seeking my funny. When you’re surrounded by 300+ women writers and a handful of men all of whom are genetically talented, it has the distinct possibility to leave you crying in the bathroom. Forever alone. A girl and her cellphone. And a quite possibly a cocktail. The Erma groupies were more than a little intimidating: books and columns and syndication and by-lines. Comics and screenplays and blogs and
I actually know exactly when I realized we would all be okay. It was in the middle of a muddy cornfield, with smoking fire sculptures, freezing, dirty kids, bands blaring Irish music, and lots and lots of strangers – laughing, running, hugging, and climbing, then eventually, drinking, eating and dancing. Kids were free falling into waves of mud; rolling, picking themselves up and doing it all over again; laughter echoing
When you experience something like Newtown did last December, you spend a lot of time hand-wringing, crying, frustrated, hoping somebody, someplace will take notice and do something. Someone with a voice, with power, with influence. Somebody capable of making a difference. Surely, this must change. Surely someone is doing something. An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and
If tragedy strikes your town, like it did mine, this may or may not happen to you. Hopefully you will never know. 1. You will find friends where you never expected. Hold them close. 2. Grieve at your own rate. Do not judge. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, has a story to tell and a burden to carry. 3. Not everyone will comprehend the power of grief. It’s just not
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kathryn Mayer (aka Kathy and/or Kate) is a writer, humorist, and activist writing out loud with humor and grace about little life moments with big ripples, including the space between parenting and aging parents, social issues, angsty reflections of midlife, and, sigh, gun humpers. Still. Sometimes a big deal, sometimes not Mayer is a national award-winning columnist, according to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and her essays have been recognized as Voice of the Year … Read More Here...
kate[at]kathrynmayer[dot]com
xo Kate