There’s a terse but accurate way I sometimes describe what I write about, at least in the nonfiction world:
“A marriage…forty-plus years…fifty states…one wrong turn at a time.”
What can I say? It takes courage to take jabs at my family in print, sharing personal tales from the many ages and stages of doing life together. My loved ones can’t thank me enough for being so brave, but I blame Erma. She led the way, sharing this truth: “Humor writers all have something in common. We share part of our personal and private lives that few other writers share.”
Humorist Erma Bombeck imparted plenty of wisdom like that as she poked fun at life in the suburbs from the 1960s through the 1990s. I can still see my mom, back in the day, coffee cup in hand, chuckling over the latest from Erma’s syndicated column, "At Wit's End." Imagine, daily newspapers—then in their glory days—were delivered by kids on bikes, with a choice of morning or evening distribution. We got the morning edition each day, and I remember snatching The Detroit Free Press from Mom after she’d read it, craving a dose of Erma for myself.
As Erma frequently showed us, “There is a fine line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.” That’s one of the things I loved most about her. She reminded us that life combines all the things. We don’t get to pick and choose which emotion to feel at a given time.
When I write, I feel Erma’s influence, regaling readers with memories of family farces through the years. Our experiences aren’t so much unique as universal. I mean, young or old, married or single, who hasn’t experienced a breakdown on the road? Or missed a flight? When those glitches get under your skin, listen to Erma: “If you can’t make it better, you can laugh at it.”
Speaking of the road, in April I hit it once more, this time without my partner in crime. Part of me worried. How would I hold up driving six-plus hours straight, lugging my own bags, and handling all the travel minutia that drives me insane? Then a smile crossed my lips. I could do things my way, deciding on my own when and where to stop for gas or grab a bite to eat.
While I truly believe, “Life is less about the destination than the journey," here’s the thing. I was headed to the 2024 Erma Bombeck Writing Workshop at the University of Dayton. So destination did matter. Big time. And lucky for me, my journey went fine, kind of like this:
“A woman traveling solo…sixty-six years…four states…one CarPlay glitch and rest area snooze at a time.”
The workshop itself—the destination—was ah-maz-ing. Presenters and keynotes included Pulitzer Prize winner Anna Quindlen, Beth Lapides, and poet/healer Barbara Fant. Jessica Strawser, Ann Garvin, and Tiffany Yates Martin. Cindy Ratzlaff and Kathy Kinney (Mimi from The Drew Carey Show). Jacquelyn Mitchard and memoirist Wade Rouse, who also writes fiction under his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman…so that she can live on. How I love that man.
For two and a half days, I met new friends, learned boatloads of craft tips, and ate lots of cake. Now back home, like my Erma sisters (and, yes, a few brothers), I vow to cut back on the cake but keep the creativity flowing. Not because I’m the most creative or talented, but because I can.
I have a coffee cup to prove it. It says, “You can write.” ~ Erma Bombeck
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