My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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remembering Jeffrey Dallas in the silence

Still exploring my new CD player, have started to organize the CDs, just went from Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater, a huge favourite, to the Neville Brothers, to Beethoven cello sonatas. I thought at one point, all these Neville Brothers songs sound the same, and then I realized I had inadvertently pressed Repeat. I WAS listening to the same song. 

Yesterday, I did not talk to a single soul. Texts and emails, music and work, Jane’s class and tons of leftovers; I did not feel lonely. But it was a quiet day. Today Gina’s back and there was line dancing. I am figuring out what to write next. Have not been outside once, but have spent more time in my office in the last few days than for months before. Exploring old files, seeing again how very much I wrote and did nothing with, never sent out essays about divorce and single parenting, poems about AIDS, dated now. If only I’d had more confidence. Regret.

The day before yesterday, I read a snarky, condescending review of Macca’s latest album in the New Yorker; furious, I found the critic’s Twitter page and discovered a link, posted by another angry reader, to a terrific article about how Macca is still underestimated, why he is, why he should not be. A kindred spirit! I found the writer Ian Leslie’s email address and wrote him a letter of appreciation and a few hours later, he wrote back. The miracles of modern technology. 

Newly inspired, I spent yesterday morning writing a letter to editor of the New Yorker complaining about the review. It’s fun to send something to the New Yorker, even if there’s no chance in hell of it seeing the light of day. In a few weeks, I’ll share it with you. 

Those sonatas were just too much Beethoven for me. Now listening to a lovely Canadian group of women: “Quartette.” 

New Year’s wishes and kind words from a former student, an engineer originally from Iran and a fine, sensitive writer. 

Thanks for all your guidance and support over the last couple of years. I will always have a special appreciation for you, who gave me the courage, direction and the support I needed to step into an unknown and somewhat scary world of writing. You are a very good teacher, an understanding and open minded person, and above all a kind and caring human being.

My thanks to him. Good to read. Teaching starts in two weeks – three different Zoom classes, all different. A new challenge. 

And that’s it for today: music, leftovers – Christmas dinner for lunch, turkey soup for supper – melting snow, a neat stack of CDs behind me. A bluegrass banjo. 

Here’s my poem from long ago about my friend Jeffrey Dallas, who died of AIDS. What a nightmare time that was – the last truly murderous plague, before this one.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

Some Blogs I Follow

Chris Walks
This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

Carrie Snyder
Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.


Coming soon

A new book by Beth Kaplan, published by Mosaic Press – “Midlife Solo”

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