WHAT I LOVE...
Waking to the smell of coffee and being handed a cup even before I get out of bed
Vincent Van Gogh
Sunflowers
Bobbing in the swell of the ocean
A cramped hand full of shells
The exhaustion and exaltation of finishing a book
The exhaustion and exaltation of finishing a book--I wrote
Teeny little flowers
Creme Brulee crust--still hot
Napa Valley/taking photos in the vineyard
Developing Black and White photos and watching it come to life.
The zing in my brain when I've had a revalation.
Traveling alone
Writing in coffee shops around the world
The creak in the floor in an art museum
Holy Quiet
Looking at water--any water--followed by a horizon.
I'm the author of MOTHERING MOTHER: A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir just came out this spring. I wrote it real time--over three years as my mother moved back in with me the year I turned forty.
It's about what it does to your head, your heart, your life, your other relationships--and mostly about how to perceive yourself as you go through the dying process with someone else--your mother--and all that tangled history.
I am a public speaker and spend much of my time giving motivational talks and share my experiences with Alzheimer's, caregivers, elder care advocates, policy makers, and the medical community. I hope that my work will help to bring families together and soothe their fears and isolation. If you have a group or organization tha might be interested, please let me know on my email or website www.mothering-mother.com
SHORT EXCERPT FROM MOTHERING MOTHER:
Taking Sides
The pets love Mother’s room. Our beagle, Floppy, never wants to leave, knowing there is an endless supply of crumbs to sustain her. Kismet, my rowdy Alaskan Malamute puppy, follows the three cats, Dunkin, (affectionately known as Fat Boy), Donut and Evi, (short for “inevitable”) to the apartment in hopes they’ll find the door open so they can have a pet version of a frat party.
Pets don’t care if you’re old, smelly, or fussy. Pets are one of life’s gifts, but Mother can’t stand any of them. She says she didn’t grow up with animals and just can’t get used to them, and she is not about to try. I wish she could; they’d be such wonderful company. Give me a cat and a book and a cup of coffee and come back in a week. Instead, she yells for me to come and get them. I pick Fat Boy up, pet his gray fur, kiss his forehead, and shoo the others out with my foot. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
“Here’s your breakfast, Mother.”
Kismet follows the promise of food and stands next to me. Her Alaskan Malamute tail curls all the way around, touching her back, her tongue hangs out to one side, her ears fold over, giving her a childish countenance.
“That could turn me against you,” Mother says, giving me a sour look as she nods toward my puppy.
“Don’t make me choose between you and my dog.”
ENDORSEMENTS:
[Mothering Mother] A beautiful rendering of a difficult but all-too-common situation, told with plenty of humor…and much love.
MF Wilkens, Booklist Review
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Carol’s prose is both stimulating and soothing, with humor and wit that adds a refreshing breeze to a subject often cloaked in whispers. A welcome new voice to the field of caregiving!
Jacqueline Marcell, author of Elder Rage
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Ms. O’Dell captivated her audience and speaks with the love, passion and wisdom. She is a competent and personable speaker with a wealth of knowledge.
Stephania Sykes-Burns, Program Coordinator
Alzheimer’s Association
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Her story [Mothering Mother] of that time is honest, poignant, even heart wrenching, and often, unexpectedly comic.
Rosemary Daniell,
Author, Speaker, Writing Coach,
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Mothering Mother documents the daily love, doubts, ambivalence, guilt, grief, and small triumphs that accompany caregiving. Those of us in the Baby-boomer generation will resonate with the emotional roller coaster that many of us have or are currently experiencing, or fear having to face with our own aging parents.
Barry K. Baines, MD. Medical Director
Hospice Director and Author of Ethical Wills
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WRITING and READING --The Perfect Combo Platter
I've written all my life--from weaving those 25 spelling words together in the third grade into a crazy but cohesive story, to sappy love poems, cockamamy lies to skip school, my wedding vows, letters to my babies, our own children's books, and finally....short stories, essays, articles and novels.
My second memoir, SAID CHILD is under consideration at my publishers, and I've just finished WHITE IRIS, a novel I'm infatuated with (it incorporates Vincent Van Gogh throughout the plot).
I also have a YA trilogy in the works.
Do I read? How much do I read? I have no idea. I don't keep track. I just know that like any good junkie, if it's been more than a couple of hours, god help me, a couple of days, I get real cranky.
I also garden, paint, (yes, I paint Van Goghs) am damn good cook, walk, bicycle every single day, swim, collect shells, make a mean creme brulee with perfect crust.
I yearn to travel, (I have--here and abroad and plan lots more trips) and love and am loved by a whole lot of people. Nature and humanity fascinates me--all the nuances--all they don't say, don't do....
I recently returned to college to finish my degree and took more classes than needed in glass blowing, philosophy, english, theology, psychology, and anything else not math related. I love physics and the metaphysical although I know diddly about higher level math,
which tells me what I always knew--I'm an art freak.
There. I've said it.
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