Friday, July 25, 2014

Living the Dream

Last Tuesday was one of those absolutely gorgeous summer days with plenty of sun, temperatures in the low 80’s, low humidity and a gentle breeze that was making the wind chimes in the corner of the back porch sing intermittently. So content was I that I totally ignored the ringing of my cell phone as well as the tiny ping that tells me I have voice mail. It was not until half an hour later that I took myself out of my weather-induced coma and looked at the phone. 

“Toni,” the voice inside said, “this is Jack Firneno, editor of the Bucks County Midweek Wire and I am calling because I would like to know if you will be available for a phone interview…” What? And then, my head went to brain freeze, An interview? Why? What have I done? Am I in trouble? 

And finally, Wait! The book! He wants to interview me about the book. Oh my God! What should I do?What should I say? What should I wear?

I almost dropped the phone, then steadied myself long enough to send texts out to several people including my daughter Cindi, who responded: Stop. Breathe. You’ll do fine. You’ll be great, Mom. Just relax. Remember that you can ask questions too, if there’s something you don’t understand. But above all Mom, don’t’ babble! I read her message over and over and even wrote it out in long hand, trying to memorize it so I would remember it during the interview. 

Ten minutes before the appointed time, I was again sitting on the back porch, as ready as I'd ever be, waiting for the phone to ring again. 

When it did, Jack’s questions were deep and thoughtful and the interview went well.. I relaxed.I listened. I asked questions when necessary and most of all, I did not babble. 

But it wasn't until the next day, while checking one of the the facts I had given Jack, that the  full import of what was happening hit home. Suddenly I realized I was sitting in a coffee shop (okay it was a McDonald's) reading my own book! I allowed that sensation to sink in for a few more minutes until finally I got up. Then with my hand on the ladies room door, I was struck again. Oh my God, oh my God,  I'm living the dream - and as the door swung open - I am living the dream!

My second memoir, Dear Elvis, is also available at

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