Suzy Jacobson Cherry
Writer. Artist. Educator. Interspiritual Priestess. I write poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and thoughts on stuff I love.
The “Empty Nest Syndrome” Isn’t Just an Anecdote
In families where there have been good relationships, where families are close, the changes that come when the children grow up can bring confusing feelings. There is a sadness that accompanies the passing of time. It cannot be pinpointed; It cannot really be named. We have come up with words to try to describe this sort of…loneliness. It isn't something that waits until all the children are gone and then suddenly happens. This…melancholy that grows more evident with each child's graduation from high school, each move into a college dorm, or down the wedding aisle.
Finding the Rhythm of Life
Though I semi-retired a couple of years ago, for a long time afterward I still struggled with the feeling that life was out of control and racing willy-nilly to the next task to be done. Now that I have fully retired from outside work, this sense of chaos will still hit me once in a while. This is absolutely unnecessary.
That One Time I Embarrassed Myself At My Own Poetry Reading
It was the mid-1990s. I had re-joined the Phoenix poetry community a couple of years before, having been away living, working, writing, and reading poetry in L.A. and Houston. I was thrilled to be invited to feature at a poetry reading at the Willow House. I had shared the podium with my poetry group at readings in Houston but had never featured solo before.
Women of the Mary Tyler Moore Show
When I was a child, I watched Mary Tyler Moore playing Laura Petrie on the Dick Van Dyke Show. I remember thinking she looked cool in her capri pants, slipper flat shoes, and loose, attractive blouses. She was a fun mom who was always there for her television son, Ritchie. She was sweet, a loving wife and mother, and a good neighbor.
This story was published on Medium in the fall, but I was reminded of it again when I was talking with my daughter. It was originally published in the first issue of one of my old newsletters, HearthStones, which came out at Samhain in October, 1994. I later shared the story with members of a UK-based online community I belonged to in the early days of the 21st century, Ayla’s Cave.
How Hawking Helped Me Emerge Empowered
The Shy Girl People might not believe it now, but I was once a very shy person. I was terrified of public speaking. I don’t know if it was because I was always the new girl and never felt fully at home in my classes, or what. I distinctly remember the time in my Junior year of high school English class when I had to give a talk about the poet Vachel Lindsay. I was shaking all over, my teeth chattered, and my knees literally knocked together.
“Hippie” by Barry Miles
Hippie by Barry Miles (2005) is interesting and filled with information about the multitude of movements that happened in America and Britain from 1965 to 1971. It was a tumultuous, terrible, deadly, inspired, mystical, and hopeful time. During it all, I was in my formative years, watching the war and the riots on television. I am of the first generation to grow up with television for my whole life, yet I had no idea what kind of Happenings were going on. This book was informative. However, I found it wanting in some ways.
My Experiences with Fantasy in Story and Art
I Was Born to Read I think it was inevitable that I would fall into the worlds of fantasy. My mother’s idea of bedtime stories included the works of Poe and Coleridge. She was constantly reading to me herself, and enrolled me in the Dr. Seuss Book Club when I was very little. I started getting books from Scholastic as soon as it was introduced to me in elementary school. I looked forward to those little flyers and the annual Scholastic Book Fair.
Thrifting and the Middle Class
My earliest memories of thrift shopping are of dark stores with racks jam-packed with dresses, suits, and jackets. Big boxes filled to the brim with children’s clothing, underwear, fashion accessories, and stuffed animals congregated in the middle of the stores. We tore through them, looking for something that fit us and that we liked. Shelves with old toys and books lined the walls, usually in the back.