The best books of 2010

I've done a lot more reading than writing this year, so here's a sampling of what kept me busy in 2010.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

Henrietta Lacks was a poor black woman in segregated 1950s Baltimore, but her cancer cells served as the basis for decades of cancer research and even the polio vaccine. Amazingly, at least by today’s standards, she never knew the doctor at Johns Hopkins had taken her cells, and she certainly didn’t live to see the contributions to medical research they allowed. Rebecca Skloot chronicles Lacks’ previously-untold story and forces the reader take hard a look at medical ethics. As a cancer survivor, I find it particularly thought-provoking as I go back and forth between being both outraged by and thankful for her doctor’s actions.


Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City by Antero Pietila

If you ever wonder why Baltimore is in the state it is today, you must read this book. Former Baltimore Sun reporter Antero Pietila details Baltimore’s appalling history of housing discrimination, complete with white flight, redlining, oppressive land installment contracts, and plain old racism. While I’ve always known that corruption is the cornerstone of this city, I was shocked to learn just how long some of the policies remained in place and the lengths to which our elected officials would go to keep certain people out of specific neighborhoods. Sadly, history truly repeats itself.


The Lost Dogs: Michael Vick's Dogs and Their Tale of Rescue and Redemption by Jim Gorant

This is a difficult read for animal lovers like me. I learned far too much about Michael’s Vick’s heinous behavior, as well as the local prosecutor’s reluctance to charge Vick, citing dogfighting as a fixture in Vick’s culture. The saving grace is that most of the abused dogs went on to be rehabilitated and lead the lives they deserve. It’s also nice to see the efforts made by so many to make sure that these abused dogs survived and thrived.


The Help by Kathryn Stockett

In her debut novel, Kathryn Stockett tells a fictional tale of growing up in Mississippi in the 1960s from the viewpoints of white women and their black maids. Some have criticized the book, saying the white author could never truly grasp what it meant to be black in the south, just as the civil rights movement was coming to a head. I believe Stockett did an amazing job of putting herself in the position of the women who lived in fear of the families they helped.


The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

I’m a sucker for any well-written book about dogs. Tell it from the perspective of a philosophical dog and you’ve got me hooked. Although he tells a sometimes somber and other times downright heartbreaking story, Enzo is a wonderful narrator who goes where mere humans can’t.


The Great Typo Hunt: Two Friends Changing the World, One Correction at a Time by Jeff Deck and Benjamin D. Herson

Grammar Nazis rejoice: You’re not alone. The authors of The Great Typo Hunt fulfilled some of my greatest fantasies when they traveled (and chronicled) their journey across the country, correcting the misspellings, inappropriate punctuation, and other misguided attacks on the English language. Oh, and they get arrested.

Live music, take note

One of the best parts of summer are all of the concerts and we've been to some great ones this year. But even my recent outing to the amazing Paul McCartney show reminded me those who put on concerts still have a lot to learn from their counterparts in the theater world.

The best thing about live theater is that it's generally predictable. When you have tickets to an 8 p.m. show for theatrical performance, it begins at 8 p.m. When you have tickets to an 8 p.m. concert, you're lucky if the act you're there to see goes on at 9. First you have to sit through an opening act that few have heard of and even fewer enjoy. Then it's a waiting game as everyone checks their watch and makes guesses as to which 15 minute increment the artist will select to grace us.

In addition, when you go to the theater you know what songs you're going to hear, whether there will be an intermission, and you never have to sit through the charade that is the encore. I don't understand the need for encores anymore. You know the artist is going to do an encore. The artist knows he's going to do an encore. Cut the crap and don't waste our time feigning disbelief that we simply must have more. Finish with your big hit and call it a night.

Theater venues are usually must more comfortable places too. I know big stadium shows and other outdoor venues are considered the place to be for a real rock concert, but the shows I've enjoyed most are held in theaters. Give me a padded chair, clean bathrooms, and a temperature-controlled climate any day.

Concert-goers also have a lot to learn from their theater-going brethren when it comes to manners. When you go to a Broadway musical, you let the professionals do the singing. But when you go to a concert, there are inevitably drunk fans who sing along and usually loudly. When I pay upwards of $75 for a ticket to a show (and let's face it, it's usually far upwards) then I'm there to hear the performer, not the drunk frat boys behind me.

And yes, I understand that some songs scream for you to sing along with them, but not every song. By all means, feel free to belt out the lyrics to Piano Man, Hey Jude, or If I Had a Million Dollars. But please, oh please, keep your mouth closed when it's time for Yesterday.

I don't pretend to believe that all theater-goers are models of perfect decorum. I can't count the number of performances I've sat through where despite strict instructions to turn off cell phones, an errant ringtone inevitably disrupts an important moment. But, I've also never seen a group of theater-goers deboard a kegbus. It's just a different crowd.

Maybe I'm getting too old for concerts. And maybe that's a good thing because just about all of the artists I want to see are on their last legs anyhow. Thank goodness theater will always be around to keep me nice and cozy.

Twitter me this

Journalists left and right are falling all over themselves trying to convince the public that Twitter is the best thing ever.

And they're so very wrong.

Reporters regard Twitter as the savior for the news business when, in fact, it's really no more than a narcissist's dream.

For the uninitiated, I should probably provide a quick primer before going any further. Twitter is a web-based platform that allows users to post 140-character updates, or "tweets," that others can follow on their computers, cell phones, or other mobile devices.

Unfortunately this Twitter mania is catching on. Politicians love it because it's a new toy that gives the impression that they're of the people instead of the elitists that they really are.

Just a few weeks back when President Obama addressed a joint session of Congress, a handful of our elected officials used the opportunity to do their own play-by-play via Twitter. Yes, instead of hanging on every word as the leader of the free world discussed the biggest economic crisis of our times, these politicians instead opted to text. Nice. I'm so glad to see our austere representatives are on the same level as a group of tweens at a Jonas Brothers concert.

Now I'm not saying that Twitter doesn't have its uses. I'm just saying that even with all of the amazing people I have in my life, not a single one of them is interesting enough to warrant a forum to keep me posted on their every move and thought throughout the day.

I think Twitter could be a very positive tool if used sparingly. For instance I think it would be helpful to keep people in the loop for important life events, especially when it's not practical to make a bunch of phone calls.

Example: "So-and-so is out of surgery and doctors are hopeful." Good use of Twitter.

"So-and-so's water broke and we're on our way to the hospital." Good use of Twitter.

"I am opening the ketchup bottle." Bad Twitter person!

Now some may accuse me of being a hypocrite because while I refuse to Twitter, I do update my status on Facebook. There is, however, one big difference between the two sites. Facebook is about more than just a status update; Twitter is only a status update.

Regrettably, it looks like Twitter is here to stay. I'll just keep my fingers crossed that it soon goes the way of the typewriter, telegraph, and cave paintings.

The secret of the Irish

This St. Patrick's Day I think everybody should just come clean and admit what we all already know: Nobody actually likes Irish food.

Americans go through this elaborate ruse every March. "Oh look, it's corned beef and cabbage," we say. "Yummy, I'll have the shepherd's pie." Just shut up. We all know you'd rather have pizza or a burger. And there's nowhere near enough Guinness or Bailey's in the world to make bangers and mash even look edible.

Please understand that I don't mean any harm to the wonderful country of Ireland. I love everything else about that country and enjoyed every second I spent there. The people are so friendly and the atmosphere is so relaxed. (Clearly I didn't spend any time in Northern Ireland.) It's just that the cuisine leaves a lot to be desired.

I only got to spend a few days in Ireland when I went in 2001 but I did my best to sample the local flavor. On our first night in Dublin we went to a traditional Irish pub and I ordered something called chicken boxty which the waiter said was common Irish dish. It was okay but certainly nothing special. It's sad but my best meal in all of Ireland came from Supermacs, an Irish version of McDonalds.

To be fair, I understand that St. Patrick's Day is more about the drinking than the eating. Still, it would still be nice to have something worth washing down with all that green beer.

This St. Paddy's Day I plan to stick to normal cuisine. My ridiculously gaudy shamrock socks will have to show my Irish pride for me.

Catch me if you can (and trust me, you can)

I've been doing something lately that I never thought I would do. I've been running. And when I say running, I mean without being chased.

Since the beginning of February I've been doing a program called Couch to 5K. As the name implies, it's designed to get you off the couch and ready to run a 5K. I just completely four weeks of the nine-week program and I'm hoping to run the Bloomin' 5k on May 17.

I haven't told many people about my training, mainly because I was afraid I would quit before I got too far. I'm not the most athletic person and moreover, I've never been a runner, even back in my field hockey days. But, for some reason, I felt this was something I should do. Maybe it had something to do with turning 30.

I'm actually pretty proud of myself for sticking with it. I'm a big fan of being able to check things off a list and this lets me do just that. There's only been one workout I couldn't finish -- the first one of week four -- and I went back and did it a few days later. It was a nice sense of accomplishment.

Unfortunately I haven't seen the same progress on the scale. I started back with Weight Watchers at the beginning of January and while I was able to lose about five pounds that month, I've only lost a pound a half since I started running. It's frustrating because I know I'm doing everything right. I just wish the scale would recognize that.

Still, I know I'm healthier and building my endurance. My legs are definitely stronger. I'll never be a fast runner -- an elephant could lap me -- but I'm okay with that. I don't mind if I don't finish a winner; I just want to finish.

Over the weekend I took Buddy and Snoopy for a walk around my parents' neighborhood. The loop is about a mile and a third around and I was practically dragging the dogs behind me by the time I reached the halfway point. It was nice not being the one dragged for once.

Welcoming the new

She may have been three weeks earlier than expected but I'm quite excited to welcome a new little friend into the world. Riley Rose was born on Monday to our good friends, Kristen and Nathan and we had the pleasure of meeting her, with her full head of Nathan-like hair, the very next day.

I wasn't exactly enthusiastic when I first learned that our favorite couple was expecting. It was more like a combination of shock and confusion and I didn't react too well. When Nathan first said Kristen was pregnant, I suppressed my initial urge to blurt out "On purpose?"

I wised up quickly enough and over the past few months have warmed to the concept of our friends with a baby. It helps that I have full confidence that Kristen and Nathan will be wonderful parents and will raise what I'm sure could be the world's most perfect child. But no pressure, of course.

After meeting Riley and seeing what a good baby she is, I'm starting to get excited about all of the things we'll be able to teach her. And we can use her as an excuse too. Instead of Rich and I looking silly adults when we go to the circus or the zoo, now we'll be able to take Riley because, well, that's what you do with kids. It's a win-win.

So welcome Riley, and congratulations to your parents. Please stay as sweet as you were in our hour together and do your best to minimize the stinky diapers. Thanks in advance.

The end of an era

My grandmother passed away a week ago today. Her death is the first loss I've suffered as an adult and I'm still trying to cope with it.

None of this was entirely unexpected. She was 93, after all. About a month ago, her doctor diagnosed her with late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. She'd quickly gone from just being forgetful, to someone who we couldn't care for at home. We decided to move her from the hospital to a nursing home and that's where she remained until her death.

The funeral was Monday and at my grandfather's request, I gave one of the eulogies. I was glad to be able to talk about a few of the things that made my grandmother so special.

Below, I've posted the text of what I said at the service. For those of you who didn't know my grandmother, I hope it gives you a little insight into the amazing woman that she was.


There was nothing in life more important to my grandmother than her family. She was so poroud of all of us and so glad all of her children and grandchildren lived so close to her.

Grandma wanted to make sure we all got a good education so she could brag about how smart we were. She wanted to make sure we all had our own houses so she didn’t have to worry about where we would live. And she wanted to make sure we all found the right person to marry so we would always have someone to take care of us like she had Grandpa to take care of her.

Grandma did everything in her power to make all of this a reality. She wound up driving each of us back and forth to school countless times. And whenever one of the grandkids was ready to buy a house, she gave us the money for a down payment.

And even in her last weeks, she was intent on making sure all of her grandchildren had their perfect match. I was visiting her at the hospital and she asked where my brother Danny was. I explained that he was home and would be visiting later. She said she just wanted to introduce him to the nurse because that’s the kind of girl he should meet. Nevermind the fact that the nurse was married.

Seeing her family was always the most important thing to her. Whenever something good happened, we couldn’t wait to run and tell Grandma because we knew how happy she would be. Forget world peace or winning the lottery. Grandma just wanted me to find a husband.

One of my favorite memories is how when we were little, my brothers and I would spend New Year’s Eve at my grandparents’ house so my parents could go out with their friends. Grandma would always stock up on cake and ice cream and say “We can have our own little party.” The best part was that Grandma would always let me stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop but she’d make my brothers go to bed early.

Every Jewish grandmother tends to worry but Grandma turned it into an art form. When there wasn’t anything to worry about, she created something. Thank goodness she never discovered the Weather Channel. She taught us that a car is a weapon, never to pick up hitchhikers, and beware of the undertow. We knew to always wear our seatbelts, to lock the doors, and never touch a cigarette.

But most of all, Grandma taught us about love. My grandparents have been married for 70 years. Their marriage has been an inspiration to all of us. It meant so much to me get married with her wedding band and I wear it everyday.

I can’t even begin to explain how much I’m going to miss my Grandma. I know she loved every moment she had with us and I’m just so very lucky to have had 30 years with her.

-30-

On the occasion of my 30th birthday it seems only proper to take a look back at the three decades which have been my life. Happily, I feel I can honestly say I have no regrets.

My family, all its quirks included, has made me who I am today. I married a man who couldn't be more perfect for me. And, I was born to do the job I do.

I am undoubtedly one of the lucky ones. This doesn't mean that I haven't faced my share of challenges in life, but it does make me a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.

My first major hurdle came around the time I turned 12 years old. Struck by depression and anxiety, I stopped going to school. Through the amazing patience of my parents and grandparents, I started home-schooling which gave me the chance to stay up-to-date academically while sorting through the other issues.

My family's dedication ultimately led me to St. Timothy's School where I truly thrived. Thanks to the school's attention to the individual attention and academic rigor, I went on to college and then law school. Had it not been for St. Tim's, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today.

Five years ago this week, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. That's a life-changing event, if I've ever seen one. It's definitely made me a stronger person, or at least I'd like to think that it has. I might as well get something out of it, right?

It's funny how all the little bits in life add up to make me who I am. I can't wait to see how life plays out from here on out.

My darling husband recently reminded me that in journalism, 30 signifies the end. I guess it's a good thing I'm not a journalist anymore.

Caught

This year marked a new development in our Black Friday snowglobe hunt.

I got caught.

I was on my fourth time around when it happened. I'd left the store through a side exit and waited for a crowd of people before walking in again. I tried to blend in with them but it didn't work.

There was a bottleneck. I stood there two seconds too long. I was spotted.

The overly-cheerful JCPenney employee turned to me and slowly handed me a snowglobe.

"Second one?" he said, looking at me with a sly but knowing grin. I sheepishly accepted the snowglobe.

"I'm observant," he added.

Oh, I can't tell you how badly I wanted to say "Well, apparently not that observant, because this is actually my fourth one." But I kept my mouth shut.

Still, the family finished out the day with 11 snowglobes. I have no complaints.

I wasn't sure how well this year would go. The family has had a rough time lately and I was afraid the stress and need for sleep would keep my fellow snowglobe hunters in bed this year. We moved my grandmother to a nursing home this week after she spent a week in the hospital with what her doctor is calling late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. It's been a really hard time.

The family immediately balked last night when I reminded them that JCPenney opened at 4 a.m. They were tired. They wanted to sleep in. I said I'd be leaving the house at 3:45 and whoever wanted to join me was welcome.

My brother, Matt, was outside of my house when I opened the door at that ungodly hour. He and I drove to JCPenney where, to our amazement, a line was already forming outside.

I then had a call from my husband who was shocked that I left the house without him and said he'd be right there.

In all, I got four snowglobes and Matt and Rich each got two. I was happy with the eight, but later got a call from my dad who said he and Matt went back later on and they got another three.

I know it's a stupid tradition but for some reason, it means a lot to me. And I think it means even more to me this year when we're so worried about Grandma. It's nice to have some continuity in life.

Our new America

Barack Obama officially changed our nation yesterday, winning the hearts and minds of millions who previously never gave a thought to politics. And it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone.

This election has been unique from the very start.

Obama is a politician like none I've seen in my lifetime. He's so different, in fact, that I don't know what to think. He has fans and followers with an enthusiasm that typically accompanies boy bands and football teams.

It's that hero worship, not his politics, that makes me uncomfortable. I've been brought up to believe that you can't trust politicians and that it's the public duty to question their actions and inactions.

But in this election, I found that people were personally insulted if you so much as asked a question about Obama. It was as if by questioning Obama, you were questioning their entire existence. There was a new emotion in this election. Of course after eight years of George Bush, I can see how people would get a little emotional.

My father points out that we can now thank Bush for one positive thing: Motivating people to vote.

And I certainly give Obama credit for getting interested in politics again. I worked as an election judge again and voters voted with a passion. We went to start setting up the polls on Monday night and one gentleman came by just to make sure he knew exactly where to go the next morning. I was the first election judge to arrive on Tuesday morning and at 5:15 a.m., there were already people camped out.

We went non-stop from the time the polls opened at 7 a.m. until 12:20 when we finally got a minute's break. Surprisingly, the steady flow did not continue through the day. Although we reached a 69 percent voter turnout at our precinct, the afternoon and evening hours were very slow.

Many more people brought their children with them to vote this time around. And unless you've got a screaming baby, I've always thought this was an important thing to do. I still remember my parents taking us with them to vote over the years. I particularly remember going with my mom to Winand Elementary to vote in the Reagan-Mondale contest in 1984. I thought those old-style voting booths with the levers and curtains were the coolest thing. I hope the kids of today had the same positive experience as I did.

I'm very curious to see what will happen once Obama is inaugurated in January. Every president gets a honeymoon period, but I have to wonder how long Obama's freedom from criticism will last.

I really wish him the best of luck, even though I might not agree with him on all of the issues (but I also don't agree with McCain). He has a tough job ahead of him and a lot of work to do. It's a job that I certainly don't envy.

For America's sake, I hope he really does have all the answers. But I also hope people remember that he's a politician and as citizens, we have a duty to keep our elected officials in check. After all, it was George Bush who argued that it's un-American to challenge your government and we all see how well that worked out.