Chapter One: Little me wanted to be a writer or opera singer, thanks to parents and grandparents who read to me, took me to plays and concerts and encouraged me to practice, dance and sing. I graduated Cum Laude from Mount Allison University with an Honours English degree, but didn’t pursue academia. Instead, I worked for the Atlantic Symphony Orchestra and Symphony Nova Scotia, where I met my cellist husband and listened to lots of music.

Chapter Two: Working me joined the provincial civil service, administering grant programs and helping create the first Nova Scotia Arts Council. I became Director of Cultural Affairs with a staff of twelve/six million dollar budget (many spreadsheets), and also became Jewish, got married and raised darling children and puppies.

Chapter Three: Government restructured, so I segued into the Atlantic Publishers Marketing Association, promoted books and published Atlantic Books Today. I created Cultural Affairs Consulting & Promotion, working as an agent, publicist and manager for a singer/songwriter, flamenco and ballet companies, choirs and a classical quintet. Loved telling artists’ stories.

Chapter Four: I remembered what I loved even more (writing), and enrolled in the MFA in Creative Nonfiction program at the University of Kings College (still working, for Halifax Camerata Singers, the Canadian Music Centre and Concerts in Care). With support from the Nova Scotia Talent Trust and the Atlantic Jewish Council, I’m writing a memoir, Mine to Tell: Looking For A Jewish Family, about my conversion to Judaism and the search for what happened to my husband’s family during the Holocaust. Many Zoom webinars.

Chapter Five: My poem, Passover 2020, was published in an anthology from Black Dog and One-eyed Press, and I wrote for Shalom magazine. Began blogging for The Times of Israel and renovating my grandparents’ 1930s house. Write, revise, renovate, repeat.

We tell ourselves stories in order to live...
We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the "ideas" with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.

Joan Didion, The White Album: Essays