Have you successfully taken your family’s photo for your holiday cards? (Yes, yesterday.)
Have you already sent out your family cards? (No. They’re ordered and I’m praying they arrive in time or else they’ll turn into New Year’s cards.)
Well this excerpt I read from my novel Mortified — about a mommy blogger, circa 2004 who reveals too much information about her family on the internet — is about the main character, Maggie Kelly and her disastrous Christmas card photo session with her two young children.
The excerpt is a blog post written Maggie wrote for her “anonymous” blog “Maggie Has Had It” (spoiler: it isn’t anonymous for long) about a terrible early December incident involving red sweaters from Baby Gap, baby wipes and candy canes.
Enjoy the dark humor as you think about those picture-perfect social media posts you’re seeing on Instagram, Facebook and on the cards being delivered to your home of uber-stylized family photos that extol happiness and joy … amid a killer pandemic, an historic recession, and while our president is running around like a mad king who has decided reality doesn’t apply to him.
You can get a signed copy of Mortified: a novel about oversharing at Tatnuck Booksellers in Westborough, MA.
Blogger Kelly Reci knows what it’s like to be a middle school student who suddenly and unexpectedly loses a friend:
Teen bereavement is real. Many of our tweens and teens will struggle with the loss of a friend. It’s heartbreaking, but sadly its life. When I was an eighth grader, (all the way back in 1992,) we lost a friend. He was just a year behind us, and the older brother to three younger children. Billy passed away while caring for their yard. He was the “man” in his family, and he often did chores that his mother and sisters couldn’t. That horrible day he happened to be mowing the lawn on a riding mower. He fell off, and the mower landed on him. He was asphyxiated before he was found. I’ll never forget the day we found out, or the days following. Our group of “bus buddies” mourned for months. Driving passed his house twice every day, and seeing the exact spot he departed our world, was virtually torture. Grief counselors were called in, but they didn’t stay longer than a week. I guess we were all supposed to be “healed” by then. Most of us weren’t. We could have really used a teacher like Mr. Clark to help us all heal.
In reviewing Mr. Clark’s Big Band, which shines a spotlight on how a small Massachusetts middle school–its jazz band in particular–handled the sudden death of a 12-year-old student, Reci recommended the book for those who have experienced loss:
Following these kids journey to healing was touching as well as inspiring. It was a very cathartic experience for me. Mr. Clark is amazing, and I really can picture him as jolly Santa Claus type. If you or someone you love has experienced a loss, whether they’re tween or older, I think you’ll love this book.
Meanwhile, blogger Cassandra McCann also posted a review of Mr. Clark’s Big Band saying it is: “a great book of healing with the magic powers of music in a way that seals the town in a mix of emotions that the readers will surely feel.”