Why are all our Heroes so imperfect?* My thoughts on Lance

In the summer of 2000, we'd rented a cottage in the French village of St. Nicolas Courbefy (now famous for because the entire village was put up for sale early last year) At first the locals were standoffish. We later found out it was because they thought we were German - the occupation still loomed large in memory in this part of the Limousin - but once they realized we were English and American and spoke French we were welcomed. We went to a dance at the village hall where I was twirled energetically by elderly Frenchmen, and a couple invited us to dinner in their home.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to the Tour de France, which was passing through the region. My ex is a keen cyclist, so I'd started watching the Tour and developed appreciation and knowledge of the teams, the strategies, not to mention a bit of a crush on the British commentator, Phil Liggett.

Our French host was adamant that Lance Armstrong, who had come back from cancer the year before to win his first Tour de France title and was doing well that year, had taken some kind of miracle drug to enhance his performance. I was shocked. SHOCKED, I tell you. "The man had CANCER! He had chemotherapy...toxic chemicals pumped through his veins to kill tumors." Lance hadn't started LiveStrong yet, but I'd already drunk the Kool-Aid and leaped to his defense. To me, he was an inspiration - someone who had faced great challenges and overcome them to win.

I stopped admiring him when he dumped his wife Kristin, who had stood with him through his cancer battle and raised his kids while he trained all over Europe, for Sheryl Crow.

And now we find that my dinner host back in 2000 was right all along - that Lance was doping. We all wanted to believe, and he played us, but good.

Right now, I'm hearing Jill Sobule's Heroes on a loop in my head:

*CREDIT: "Why are all our heroes so imperfect? Why do they always bring me down?"




The answer I give myself is this: stick to everyday heroes. Make heroes out of the people you know and admire, the people who quietly, and without expectation of glory, do good for others, trying to make the world a better place.

P.S. I got to meet Phil Liggett that summer, after one of the stages of the Tour. And he kissed me. Twice. Once on each cheek. : ))).

I'm Grateful for Books, so here's my RIF pledge

I came from a family of readers. Hey we're Jewish and they call the Jews "People of the Book" right? But it's more than that. My Dad was always reading something, even on the john - and yes, the loos in our house are also filled with reading material - I mean there's so much to read and so not enough time, why waste a precious moment? :-) My Mom was also a big reader and she took us to the library every week to pick out new books Beloved books have been handed down the generations - I have my late Aunt Marilyn's 1937 hardcover copy of Noel Streatfeild's Ballet Shoes.






Yes, yes, I know the value and convenience of e-readers and I read some books on my iPad, but ISN'T THIS BEAUTIFUL? And tell me that you are going to hand down a beloved e-reader, much read e-read to your grandchild someday...

Last year at the Hudson Children's Book Festival, I was fortunate to hear Walter Dean Meyer's speak. He is a passionate advocate for literacy - as our National Ambassador for Young People's Literature, his tag line is "Reading is not optional." He spoke about growing up in Harlem, and how he didn't grow up in a house of books but his mother would read magazines to him and then, as soon as he learned to read, she'd have him read to her while she was ironing.

Virginia Woolf wrote about having a room of one's own. When it comes to literacy, it's so powerful for a child to have a book of one's own. And that's why I support Reading is Fundamental. Because I know that there are so many kids who aren't lucky enough to grow up surrounded by books the way I was. Kids who are growing up in neighborhoods where the school librarians have been cut and the library budgets are being cut. Kids who need a book of their own.




This Thanksgiving week, I'm grateful that I was surrounded by books growing up and that I've been able to provide that experience for my own children. To express that gratitude, I'm making a pledge that for every additional follower on Twitter @sarahdarerlitt (excluding p/rn spammers!) between now and midnight on Thanksgiving Day, I will donate $1 to Reading Is Fundamental. I hope you'll join me!

Movie Recommendation: Go see ARGO.

I've got deeply personal reasons for my fascination with covert operations and trade craft (Dad,who unfortunately has Alzheimer's now, was a proud member of AFIO. A few years ago I started playing around with an idea for a middle grade spy novel but I was approaching it from the wrong angle and it went nowhere.

In the course of my research, though, I read Ted Gup's The Book of Honor, The Secret Lives and Deaths of CIA Operatives, which made me appreciate how the clandestine services risk their lives in the shadows, often pulling off heroic acts which can never be recognized by the public because they are classified.

In light of the recent controversies about the "truth" of the Osama Bin Laden operation and the current politicking about the deaths of Ambassador Chris Stevens and others in Benghaz it's important to remember that while obtaining information is a critical part of espionage,its counterpart is disinformation.

Which brings me to ARGO, a movie I've been desperate to see ever since I first read about it. My only regret is that my father isn't compos mentis enough to have seen the film with us, because he would have loved it.



ARGO is loosely based on the Canadian Caper, a true life covert operation between the CIA and the Canadian Government to exfiltrate six American diplomats who escaped from the Consulate building in Teheran when the Embassy next door was seized and the entire staff taken hostage on November 4th, 1979.

The result is a suspenseful, pulse-pounding, my-boyfriend's-hand-has-nail-marks-in-it-from-the-airport-scene film that does not disappoint. Terrific performances by Affleck, Alan Arkin, Bryan Cranston, and John Goodman.

Two important takeaways from the film, IMHO:

1. Disinformation and classified information: The CIA's role in the exfiltration of the six diplomats, particularly the part played by Tony Mendez, wasn't known until 18 years after the fact when the operation was declassified by President Clinton. Knowledge of CIA involvement might well have jeopardized the safety of the Embassy hostages, so full credit for the operation was given to the Canadian Government - which deserved a LOT of credit, don't get me wrong. But this is why I get SERIOUSLY pissed off when certain Presidential candidates try to make political capital out of inflamed situations. And even more pissed off when, in trying to make even more political capital out of that situation, Congressmen blow CIA cover on CSPAN. We don't want to have to add more black stars to the wall at Langley, dammit!

2. Pay attention, really close attention, to the intro, before the movie starts. The history of US involvement in Iran isn't pretty. In 1953, the US staged a coup to overthrow the government of democratically-elected Iranian Prime Minister Mohammed Mossadeq. Mossadeq pissed off the Brits when he nationalized the Anglo-Iranian Oil company (these days known as BP, Gulf polluter), prompting the US and UK to oust him (OIL, $$$, OIL, $$$, sense a theme here?)leaving the Iranian people under the repressive dictatorship of Mohammed Reza Pahlavi for twenty years.

Here's a link to an interesting Canadian Broadcasting piece about Tony Mendez that gives background on the real Canadian Caper.


http://www.cbc.ca/player/Shows/Shows/The+National/World/ID/2276947408/

World Alzheimer's Day

Today is World Alzheimer's Day, and once again I'm celebrating the special person in my life who is afflicted with this devastating disease, my beloved father, Stanley Darer.

Since I wrote about Dad last year on World Alzheimer's Day, his condition has deteriorated somewhat, both physically and mentally. He can't walk as well as he used to, and sometimes has to use a walker, although he doesn't like to. When I visit, I hold his hand. His confusion has definitely increased. It seems to go down in steps, plateau for a while, then deteriorate a bit more. The Awesome Boyfriend asked me if I thought Dad still knew I was his daughter. I said, "No, I don't think so. But his face still lights up when he sees me, and he definitely knows I'm someone who loves him and who he loves."

And deep inside, he still worries about me. I've often told my kids about how difficult it was for me growing up because my dad had the double standard common to his generation between his male and female offspring. It was a source of tremendous resentment and frustration as a teenager.

I still remember exactly where I standing as a young woman in my 20's, working on Wall St and putting myself through business school at night for my MBA in Finance, when my dad told me: "I won't relax till you're married and have a man looking after you."

I was speechless for a moment, thinking of how I'd always worked so hard to prove myself, how I had to work twice as hard as a guy to get credit, deal with sexism constantly, and went ballistic. "Who's looking after me now?!" I shouted.

The other day when I visited Dad, we were sitting on a bench holding hands and he asked me a question he quite often does when I visit: "So are you married?"

These days, the question doesn't make me ballistic. I smile, and explain that I was married, I got divorced, but I have a mensch of a boyfriend that I've been with for six years. Dad smiles, and I know that somewhere, deep inside, it makes him feel better to think I have "a man looking after me."

And I smile, instead of going ballistic, because I know that thought makes him relaxed and happy.

On Rosh Hashanah, I asked The Awesome Boyfriend to come with me to visit, so Dad could see living proof of my "man". Because we'd gone to services, we went in the afternoon, and Dad tends to be more confused then. AB and I think Dad thought the AB was my son, because he kept commenting on how much taller AB was than the last time he'd visited.

We decided to take Dad for a walk in the garden because he seemed really confused and we thought the fresh air and exercise might do him good. On the way outside, we passed some of his friends who were gathered round the TV watching The Sound of Music. And he introduced me to one of the other seniors as HIS CHILD. I almost started crying - because he REMEMBERED. He doesn't remember my name, but he remembered that I was his daughter, at least for that moment, and it meant the world to me.

Here's Dad discussing New Year's Resolutions with Benny


On September 30th, my mother and I are participating in the Walk to End Alzheimers. If you are able to donate to help us reach our fundraising goal, to help find a cure for this horrible disease.

xo

Sarah

Gardens, Harry Potter, Politics and how I got my start writing

It’s a beautiful day here in CT, and I finally got around to tending my plants, which like my health, I’ve been neglecting this year. If you ever want to judge my state of stress, look at my house plants. If they are thriving, I’m in a good place. If they are drooping and/or dead, chances are I’m going through a very stressful period.

This morning I finally planted chrysanthemums in my outside planters, replanted the geraniums in them into pots to overwinter inside, took cuttings from the houseplants that hat gotten old and stringy from neglect and planted them into new plots. It made me feel hopeful and reinvigorated. I know not all of the cuttings will survive, but some of them will. It’s like writing a first draft.

Of course after potting there was a huge mess of soil on the front step, so I grabbed a broom out of the garage to sweep it up. And that brought back of memories.

Yes, I was sweeping up with a Firebolt. I don't just have a Firebolt, my friends. I also have a Nimbus 2000.

Way back when being published was just a dream, I started reading the Harry Potter books with my son, who didn't just look like Harry, but, having moved here from the UK, sounded like him, too. Kids at his elementary school thought he WAS Harry. I was a frustrated creative masquerading as a housewife, and when my son was in second grade, I threw that creativity into throwing him the most awesome Harry Potter party ever.

What did that involve?

Here are a few of the highlights:

Potions class: We did experiments with Borax and made Goop

Quidditch Game: Each of the kids at the party got a Nimbus 2000 of their own. I bought all the brooms at Costco - some guy thought I owned a cleaning company and asked me for a job - and almost asphyxiated myself spray painting them. I got a bunch of ping pong balls, wrote point scores on them, and hid them round the garden. Then I spray painted one gold for the Golden Snitch. I hid that one in my pocket for when I wanted the game to end.

The kids "flew" around the garden on their brooms, hunting for the ping pong balls. The best part was that we, the grown ups, got to pelt them with wet sponges (the Bludgers). It was a warm, sunny day, so the kids would come within bludger range with astonishing frequency : ) When they'd expending lots of wonderful energy, I surreptitiously dropped the Golden Snitch and waited for someone to find it to end the game. The guys were very excited to be able to take their brooms home with them.

Sweets: Had local sweet shop, Darlene's Heavenly Desires make me some chocolate frogs. My sister created labels for them. We also had Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans.

The whole family got in on the creative hijinks. My brother in law Mark played Professor Snape and led the potions class. I was Minerva McGonagall. Lindsay, our then nanny, aka "Mary Poppins, made the most awesome Kings Cross Station sign, which hangs in my garage right where I park my car:

My mother, who had always been artistic and now is finally pursuing it with her pet portrait business, created a portrait of The Fat Lady for the entrance for our Griffyndor Common Room (aka, the dining room where we were going to serve the cake).

Unfortunately, she's a little worse for wear due to the damp in the garage, but she still looks pretty good after 11 years!

I can thank my enthusiasm for Harry Potter for my first ever byline, for my start in both publishing and as a political columnist. It all began with this column, published in the Greenwich Time on April 29th, 2001. Unfortunately, the only copy I could find is the one I had framed (because it was the first thing I'd ever had published) so please bear with me.

"I'm glad my son identifies with Harry. And I don't think that in ten years time he will be out in a wood somewhere performing satanic rituals because we spent many happy hours together, sharing, with great excitement and anticipation, the next chapter of Harry Potter."

Well, it's now ELEVEN years later and I'm pleased to report I was right.

My son is a smart, engaged, kid who likes to read, makes good choices and cares about what goes on in the world. He's a Harry, and I couldn't be more proud. Meanwhile, since then, I've published four books, more political opinion columns than I can count, and at risk of sounding like Annie Wilkes, I can't help but have this feeling that if Jo Rowling and I met over a cuppa one day, we'd have plenty to talk about and become fast friends.

In the meantime, it's time to get back to work and try to look after both my plants and myself better.

Stop making excuses for the inexcusable

This was a letter I sent to The Duke Chronicle, the newspaper at my alma mater, after our winning basketball coach, Mike Krzyzewki (aka Coach K) who is lauded similarly to Paterno, defended Paterno in the New York Times last November


"As a proud Duke alum who is also a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I was appalled and disgusted by Coach Mike Krzyzewski’s attempt to make excuses for his fellow Coach, Penn State’s Joe Paterno, for not contacting police when informed of a horrific act by then assistant coach Jerry Sandusky. (New York Times, The Quad 11/14/11) Coach K wants us to give Paterno a pass based on his age (“one thing you have to understand is that Paterno is 84 years old) and thus the “immense changes and how social issues are handled in those generations.”

For a man who in June taped a show for ESPN with Paterno about “ethics and integrity and issues related with college athletics,” Krzyzewski’s moral ambivalence and his insistence that Paterno remains a “great man in a horrific situation,” makes clear that he needs to revisit his understanding of integrity, ethics and greatness.

When teaching writing workshops, I always start with character, because exploring human nature is what makes writing such an endlessly fascinating pursuit. Plot discussions focus on throwing stumbling blocks in the character’s way, so he or she is forced to make choices, because in the immortal words of JK Rowling’s Albus Dumbledore (drawing on Sartre) “It is our choices…that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

The point Coach K doesn’t understand, or perhaps chooses, willfully, to miss, is that it’s the choices one makes when faced with such a horrific situation that prove whether one is truly great, not the number of football games or basketball games won.

Joe Paterno has achieved many wonderful things in his 84 years. But like many who could have achieved true greatness, he had a tragic flaw, one that resulted in children who might have been saved being sexually abused. His legacy is rightfully tarnished. Coach K shouldn’t be in the game of making excuses for the inexcusable."

Penn State, leadership and faith

I did a presentation at the CT Writing Project's Young Writer's Institute this morning, and met a High School student who asked me to sign two of my books. She told me she particularly loved CONFESSIONS OF A CLOSET CATHOLIC because her mother converted from Catholicism to Islam when she married, so there are times when she's sitting in church feeling like Jussy. She also told me about going to a family event at the church her mom grew up in where the priest yelled at her mother to leave and told her she no longer belonged there.

We talked about Confessions and told her that in my experience the people with deep faith, rather than dogmatic faith, are the most accepting, because they recognize we we all pray to one G-d so we should look for the commonalities we share rather than the rituals that divide us.

I've been thinking about the definition of "a good person" recently, especially how one can go through the motions of being a faithful, "good" and even lauded member of the community - a much admired leader - yet beneath the surface have a flaw that makes mockery of this.

I speak, of course, of the late Joe Paterno.

At the time of his death, Paterno was lauded, particularly by members of his church, where he was a regular.

The Dumas' one a fellow Penn State professors and the other, a senior lecturer, lauded Paterno thusly:

"It's not only a great loss for us of a great benefactor and a great man," Mr. Dumas said, "but our country lost. He showed us an example of what it is to be a coach and a teacher."

"And human being," Mrs. Dumas added.

Mr. Dumas continued, "I'm sorry that we could not have had a better ending for this great man. When Victor Hugo died in Paris, everybody ran around the streets shouting, 'Hugo is dead! Hugo is dead! Our hero is dead!' That is the ending I would have liked to have seen for Joe Paterno, because he is our Victor Hugo."

Yesterday, the results of an independent investigation into the sexual abuse scandal and cover up by Louis Freeh was released. I made the mistake of reading it while I was eating lunch. It was truly sickening.

“Four of the most powerful people at The Pennsylvania State University — President Graham B. Spanier, Senior Vice President-Finance and Business Gary C. Schultz, Athletic Director Timothy M. Curley and Head Football Coach Joseph V. Paterno — failed to protect against a child sexual predator harming children for over a decade. These men concealed Sandusky’s activities from the Board of Trustees, the University community and authorities. They exhibited a striking lack of empathy for Sandusky’s victims.

Moreover, after McQueary witnessed Sandusky raping a boy in the shower in Feb 9th 2001 and reported it to Paterno on Sat Feb 10th, Paterno waited to inform Curly and Schultz until the following day because he "did not want to interfere with their weekends." Very Christian of him. (seethes)

Paterno then interfered when the plan was to report Sandusky to Dept of Welfare. An email from Curley to Schultz and Spanier says he changed his mind "after giving it more thought and talking it over with Joe (Paterno) yesterday."

As a result, Sandusky went on to abuse more children and damage more lives.

Who would make such a choice? Was that the choice of a godly, church going man? Was that the choice of a "great man"? Someone who is "an example of a coach and a teacher"?

No. It's the choice of someone with hubris.It's the choice of someone who would rather sacrifice the lives of innocent young men for the "greater good" of his legacy. If it pricked his conscience at all he could point generosity as a benefactor for good causes and all the fine young men (the ones who weren't as poor and vulnerable and thus escaped Sandusky's clutches) to graduate from the football program at Penn State, the ones who helped to earn him his all-time Division 1 football wins record.

Paterno, the Dumas', the higher leadership of Penn State, the students who rioted when Paterno was fired and the folks who raised a statue to this man, are all in denial, and denial is one of the biggest factors that allows sexual abuse to continue. The perpetrator is, of course, the most guilty party, but those around the perpetrator who choose denial are complicit in the crime.

Sandusky could have been stopped in 1998. Paterno lied to the grand jury about his knowledge of that incident. Sandusky could have certainly been stopped in 2001. But the ego of a supposedly "great" man, a man held up as an "example"caused him to make choices that resulted in the abuse of more children.

And did Paterno go to his grave feeling bad about this? Apparently not. Two days ago, a never published op ed he wrote before his death shows his continued arrogance and denial. It is all about protecting his legacy with not a word of compassion for Sandusky's victims. They don't even rate a mention.

I only started speaking publicly about my own abuse last year, and part of the reason I have continued to do so, and now have offered my services as a speaker to The Center for Sexual Abuse Crisis Counseling and Education is so that both teens and adults understand the importance of destroying the culture of complicity and denial. Denial is my sworn enemy and as Winston Churchill said, "whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."

We shall fight it in the religious institutions, we shall fight it in the Universities, we shall fight it in families, we shall fight it in schools, we shall fight it in the military, we shall fight it in Congress, we shall fight it in our communities, until our children our safe.