On Being Erma’s Child
I just returned from the 2012 Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, which celebrated the genius of this one, incredible woman.
My mom was Betty.
But this weekend, at an intimate event at the University of Dayton, I was reminded that I am also Erma’s child. Erma Bombeck.
And I’m quite certain that’s precisely how the other attendees at the 2012 Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop felt.
Erma died 16 years ago today. She left this world with far too many unfinished stories. Stories where she seemed to find the nugget of gold in the nooks and crannies of our days. It might be in the garbage disposal. Or in the burnt dinner. Or in the snippy conversation between parent and child. She always found gold. And she wrapped that gold in the dancing, smiling warmth you felt in her eyes. Her stories were your stories. Her stories made you feel alive. Her stories reminded you that – with Erma – you were never alone.
If you aren’t familiar with Erma’s works, youth is your only excuse. She wrote thousands of columns and countless books in the seventies, eighties and nineties. In sharing stories of her own family, she forever chronicled the stories of a generation.
And she did it with the universal language of humor.
The Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop draws hundreds of writers – from Pulitzer Prize winners and New York Times best sellers – to folks who are simply beginning their journey of sharing stories through a blog. The common bond of everyone, however, is a love of Erma. It is that bond that makes us her children.
Having just returned from this year’s Workshop, I’m still on an Erma High. I was honored to be on the faculty this year. This Workshop is different from the other writing and blogging conferences I participate in throughout the year. “Erma” isn’t packaged with glitzy presentations and it’s not overpowered by snazzy parties sponsored by big-name brands.
Nope. “Erma” is more like traveling home to a family reunion. The one without the nutty relatives.
The family atmosphere is reinforced by the regular attendance of members of Erma’s family. This year we were fortunate to have her husband, Bill, join us – along with two-thirds of her children.
Yep. “Erma” is the family gathering you love to attend.
L-R: Daughter- Betsy, Husband Bill, Daughter-in-Law Shari, Son-Andy
A sampling?
A walk with Craig Wilson – famed columnist at USA Today – back to the hotel. Just us. And we simply talked about my son, Kevin.
In the first class I taught on Integrating Video into Your Craft – I looked up only to see the A-List writer, Ilene Beckerman (who wrote the award-winning Love, Loss and What I Wore) sitting in the front row. Have you ever had someone of that stature take notes about something you were saying?
Sitting at a book signing one night – at the table next to Bruce Cameron – author of the NY Times Best Seller, A Dogs Purpose. My table mate, Dave Fox, and I wondered why they put the two bald guys next to the Hollywood-Good-Looks Cameron.
Having a chance to speak to one of my new heroes in life – Pulitzer Prize winner Connie Schultz. My admiration for her extends far beyond her writing. At the Workshop, it had everything to do with how she touched every, single person she met. Being with Connie for thirty minutes is a life lesson in the power of treating others kindly, encouragingly, and with respect.
Sitting at dinner listening to geniuses including folks like Alan Zweibel who was one of the first writers for Saturday Night Live or best-selling author Adriana Trigiani who wrote for countless television hits including The Cosby Show and A Different World.
You know that wonderful feeling you have when you’ve travelled to someone else’s home and walk down to their kitchen the first morning? You smell coffee. Perhaps cinnamon rolls. And you see the faces of people you forgot you missed? That’s how this Workshop is for me. Those “faces” are my true-blue writing pals. Suzette. Tracy. Michael. Karen. Michele. And they are the faces of some amazing new family. Anna. Nancy. Debba. And many more.
I’m enjoying my Erma High. I’ve been reminded of the goodness in the world. I’m reminded of the value in helping others. I’m reminded of the importance of opening doors for others. I’m reminded of the value of sharing your story and making others smile. Cry. Or laugh. But more than anything, I’m reminded of how fortunate I am to be a child of Erma.