I woke up feeling rather neutral on a dreary November day. I’m drowning in work– not uncommon for a small business owner– and keep receiving less-than-ideal news. The news is nothing worth complaining about, but certainly adds to my metaphorical plate.
I had promised a friend I would accompany him to the fish store today. The fish store turned out to be Elite Menagerie Habitats on Main Street in Pen Argyl, Pa., which is more or less my old stomping grounds, the Slate Belt.
The visit certainly improved my mood as I experienced awe and wonder at the variety of her tanks and the vibrancy and health of her fish. The care and passion she has for her stock is evident.
Now, my husband and I made some attempts at keeping fish many moons ago (and we named them all after Muppets) so I do know a bit about how much devotion and knowledge it takes to keep a healthy aquarium. Part of me would love to keep a tank again, for the relaxation and meditation angle of it, but I don’t have the time, patience, or resources to be a good aquarium caretaker.
For more information about Elite Menagerie Habitats, this is their website. And I am posting this is hopes that perhaps other people might wish to support her and her small business. Because small business is hard.
When I was in college at what is now Moravian University, we had to take several religion classes to fulfill our liberal arts requirements. We had to take one on the Bible, and I took Old Testament. For one of my world culture religious requirements, I took Religions of China and Japan, where I learned about Confucianism, Taosim and Zen Buddhism.
My daughter, now at Lafayette College, also a liberal arts institution, has taken several religion classes because it seems to be the only department with courses open when her class year registers. And unlike her parents– she has no interest in English classes. She also can’t take classes at lunch time because of her dog walk clients, and she would prefer not to take any more classes with labs.
This semester, she has two religion classes, an astronomy class (space math) and a class in her major department on psychiatric diagnoses. Her two religion classes are Religion in World Cultures and Anthropology of Religion. For her world cultures class, she has to visit a religious site/service and write a reflection paper.
Some members of her class are visiting the local mosque. Not us. During the summer, I had seen a video or some social media post about BAPS Swaminarayan Akshardham North America. I was pretty sure the TikTok algorithm suggested it. I showed it to Eva because I thought then it would make a fun road trip– simply because of the architecture.
We watched the orientation video that discussed the basics of their beliefs and the construction of the campus– which began around 2011 on 185 acres, took 12,500 volunteers and was more or less completed in 2023. The limestone was carved in India and shipped to the United States where it was reassembled “like a giant jigsaw puzzle.”
Even without reflecting on the spiritual spaces on the campus, their design includes so many statues, people, animals, and even hands and feet (as a sacred connection to the divine).
Our first stop was the mandir where we joined a prayer ceremony. Shoes off and divided into men and women, we sat on the heated marble floor in silence. The chants and prayers were familiar to the Hindus in the audience who joined in with strong voices and rhythmic claps as the leaders (monks? swamis?) in orange performed gestures before the (shrines?).
This was my first time experiencing anything Hindu, and I apologize for mixing up the words regarding the leaders, the representations of the Holy, and whatever instruments they used for the prayer ceremony we attended. I do understand and appreciate that touring the campus is an exercise in personal spirituality and a journey into the divine.
Swaminarayan refers to the type of Hindu faith and Akshardham means large temple.
And the architecture of the Akshardham in New Jersey follows the guidelines from Hindu scriptures, including an 80-foot spire that reminds those viewing it of the search for higher truth and the divine.
Let me repeat that I know nothing about Hinduism, but I did buy some books today: Hindu Vegetarianism, Hindu FAQs and Hindu Funeral Rites. So, hopefully this will spark a journey. I marveled at the expansive statues in the Akshardham and compared them to Christian stained glass window, as a way to share with the illiterate population the tenets of the faith. (And I loved the reminder that feet connect to the ground and the spiritual.)
The campus itself was beautifully landscaped and organized and moved people from place to place, maintaining order yet allowing everyone freedom to explore. Everything– from the statues to the levels of the water feature in the front of the grounds (symbolizing purity and the sacred rivers of India)– had symbolic meaning.
After we perused the grounds, the buildings, and even the construction timeline, we visited the food shop. And we bought a bunch of snacks to bring home (mango cookies, cashew fudge among them).
Then, we hit the food court. I wish we had a paper menu I could share with you. Eva had a saucy cheese street dish (Pav Bhaji) with toasted rolls, a mango lassi, a fruit drink AND a cup of hot masala chai. I had the cauliflower (Gobi Manchurian) and a odd little cookie coated with saffron (Kesar Vati).
We spent $20 in the gift shop, $20 in the snack shop and $40 on lunch.
The scents of incense, tastes of good vegetarian Indian street food, warm floors beneath our feet, exquisite art surrounding us, welcoming staff and volunteers, beautiful chants and prayers, and the deep spiritual vibe made the day an enlightening adventure.
Gayle and I left my house in Pennsylvania’s Lehigh Valley at 7:50 a.m. Our destination was the Embassy Suites in Marlborough, Massachusetts, for EH Jacobs’ book signing at Tatnuck Booksellers tomorrow.
I noticed the other day that Dunkin has its spring menu out and I was very excited to have a pistachion flavored coffee. So, after about an hour on the road, we stopped in Bernardsville, N.J., for breakfast at Dunkin — and I didn’t like my coffee. Which I used to love.
For some reason, no matter how many times I told the GPS not to, it insisted on taking us over the George Washington Bridge and threw the Bronx. That was unexpected.
And somewhere early on in Connecticut, the tire pressure light came on. But briefly thereafter we stopped at a service center in Alltown that had free air, but it was too cold and windy to check the tires and deal with them. I’m fairly certain is the 60 degree to 30 degree temperature drops from the course of the last week causing issues, but it could be every time I come to Massachusetts, I don’t put enough air in my tires.
New Haven
Before we left I googled interesting bookstores around the half-way point so we can get out of the car, wander a bit and connect with some new people. New Haven popped up as the stop with the most potential based on geographic location, the time we left (Because we leave early and stuff isn’t open sometimes until 11 a.m. or noon), and the number of potential stops in the vicinity.
It’s usually done by gut feel, google search and social media. And I typically completely forget WHY I picked a place.
STOP 1: POSSIBLE FUTURES
So, if you don’t know, I have a bachelor’s degree in English/French language and literature and a second bachelor’s in international affairs. I did somewhere around a third of my master’s degree in world history– where I intended to focus on post-colonial Francophone Africa. My academic interest is in stereotypes and the racism against indigenous people, especially in the case of the French, the prejudice against Muslims. The French treated the Muslim colonial subjects as the lowest class of citizen, deeming them unfit for miscegenation (a tactic popular as part of the civilizing mission in Asia, for example) because it would weaken the French bloodlines.
Gayle and I approach this bookstore and find a mural. Gayle loves murals. We find a memorial to abolitionist Ruth Wilson Gilmore and evidence that in warmer weather this area houses a container garden.
The academic critical theorist in me loved seeing the works of Aimé Cesaire and Franz Fanon on the shelves, with memoirs of people like Josephine Baker (which I almost bought). Black novelists (stunning collection of Octavia Butler, but she is making a comeback) and quite a few Louise Ehrlich. The inventory included feminist books, Muslim books, lots of queer and other marginalized voices. And such great vibes! This one will make my bookstore and book detour list as part of my Substack newsletter/resources.
Although our other stops were only a mile away on the Yale Campus, we opted to drive as the wind was brutal.
And I did the worst parallel park job of my life on York Street. We’re not going to talk about it. But in my defense, the space was small. But I got in it!
GREY MATTER (south)
This was a really great used bookstore with reasonable prices. (Have you been to those bookstores that base their prices on the original price of the book? I don’t like those.) I bought three books– The Long Island one by Taffy what’s-her-name and two books about colonization in Africa from the 1960s. My bill was $19.
I’m not sure if I should write this… but the vibes between the two places made me think… Possible Futures was obviously the more liberal place and had a lively energy, lots of color, friendly staff who liked to chat, and a real sense of mission and place. Grey Matter felt much more conservative, dusty and stodgy and entrenched in that sense of academia and, well, whiteness. (Which one of my Africa books is by an Indian man from an Indian publishing company so I can’t wait to see his report of what was happening in Africa.)
Gayle grabbed an iced chai on the way back to the car, but sadly she dropped it before she even had a sip.
Speaking of sad, the GPS continued its revolt and took us up smaller roads to the Boston area. Route 20 looked very, very strange. The buildings were all empty at the side of road and neglected and lots of construction everywhere– Gayle thinks they are widening the highway.
We arrived at the hotel and were extremely impressed with our room. And the snacks. And the location and the friendliness of the staff. We were scheduled to meet author E.H. Jacobs and his wife at Welly’s for dinner. And I gave Ed his royalty check.
I had a lovely fig and arugula pizza and came back to the hotel for a soak in the hot tub.
I had hoped to fulfill one of Gayle’s wishes and go see Harvard’s Gutenberg Bible, but we discovered too late that they do not have Saturday hours.
I worked my way through school at a very busy McDonalds franchise, working full-time there after college graduation until I found my first professional job four months later. When I returned to food service in my thirties, it was at our local Target (in the cafe, making official Pizza Hut pizzas and popcorn and selling icees) so that I had the income our family needed to make ends meet yet have the flexibility to raise our daughter. And go to school. And travel. And all the quirky things I have done.
So throughout most of Eva’s childhood, we didn’t eat fast food and I certainly didn’t set foot in a McDonalds for 20 years. (When I finally did, it smelled exactly the same as I remembered.)
Once Eva started to work and drive and as the pandemic changed a lot of our shopping and eating habits, we have revisited a lot of the fast food options. (There is a reason I gained 30 pounds since then, I guess.)
I was vegetarian for about eight years before Eva was born and fast food is traditionally not a place where vegetarians find many options– I remember making vegetarian Big Macs and “grilled cheese” at McDonalds. Basically, take the meat out of the traditional burger. Frankly, I always thought that sounded gross.
So imagine my surprise when I was recently scrolling the Chick-Fil-A menu online and discovered a host of vegetarian and potentially vegan options. And I decided to work my way through them. Now, I have had Chick-Fil-A’s salads, and any of them can be made without the chicken (and cheese or bacon or egg depending on the salad). They even have three vinegar-based salad dressings.
Now, let me say that I am no longer a vegetarian but I still gravitate toward vegetarian options.
I am in love with the relatively new kale crunch side salad– kale, cabbage, and almonds with the apple vinaigrette dressing.
The fruit cup surprised me. It’s mostly apples, but it also has fresh strawberries and blueberries and a couple mandarin orange slices.
The macaroni and cheese is a unique take on a classic. It does not have the uber-creamy texture of velveeta like most fast food macaroni and cheese, but almost has a rich gruyere flavor and a thicker texture.
Yesterday I tried the vegetarian cool wrap, which is the traditional cool wrap (with cold chicken, lettuce, cabbage and shredded cheese) but with the beans and corn from the southwest salad as the protein.
So, life got more hectic than usual this week. That’s a large statement on my behalf because my life is normally chaotic, but I promise this is not hyperbole.
I started a very part-time job this week (two days a week, short shifts) and the details of that shall remain for a separate post. But needless to say, the interview, the job offer, my acceptance, and my orientation happened in less than a week.
Winter is a terrible time for retail– and book sales follow retail trends– and my political journalism work won’t resume for another month. With the trials our furnace put us through this autumn and the illness that knocked us out of commission in December, I needed some predictable income even if it does only add $150 a week to the household coffers.
The Flat Tire
On Tuesday, Eva and I had a tight schedule– I had a morning meeting, Eva had some lunch dog walks and a therapy appointment and when she was due to get home, I would head out the door to my gym appointment at St. Luke’s fitness.
But when I got out of my meeting I had a flat tire with a screw sticking out of it. Luckily, a man in the parking lot had a portable air compressor and filled my tire. Then I picked up Eva, drove her to her dad’s to get his car, and then drove to the tire place.
Did I mention it had started snowing?
I had not slept much because of all the goings-on so I opted to cancel my gym appointment.
The Bedroom Reno/Redo
I’ve needed to deep clean my room for a while. I live with a bratty Goffin’s cockatoo and have three cats who live in my bedroom, so it’s always gross. I vacuum and clean cat boxes every other day if not every day but there’s still dust on everything, whether it be plaster dust, dust dust, bird dander or bird seed.
Eva painted my room originally about six years ago in Behr Diva Glam, which later turned out to be a pretty close match for “Parisian Phoenix Pink.” At that time, we painted the trim almond and ripped out the carpets but we never finished the old hardwood floors. Nala, my naughty Goffin’s cockatoo, has been peeling paint off the wall and eating window trim, and when we first painted the room we had an issue where the paint didn’t quite stick.
So, somehow, one thing led to another and the upstairs of our house has been scheduled for a deep clean. But somehow even that deep clean has gotten out-of-hand. Like maybe I should have gotten a bagster or dumpster.
We ripped down everything from curtains to bedding and Eva repainted my room and updated the color scheme. I managed to find the exact color I used to have. Eva also cleaned and updated the electrical outlets and switches. We also have a new ceiling fan to go in there eventually.
Eva decided to go ahead and learn how to refinish the wood floors and she stained them Behr “espresso” water-based poly/stain combo. This room has not had the floors done since we’ve owned it, but we also did not want to wait for the oil to dry or asphyxiate ourselves while doing this in winter.
Today, before the impending snow storm, Eva and I opted to take all of the curtains, bedding and animal beds and stuff to the laundromat.
The Modernity of the Laundromat
So, I haven’t gone to the laundromat in 20+ years– even our apartments either had a laundry room or a washer/dryer hookup. But I have retained the habit of collecting “sacred laundry quarters” for parking, Aldi, tolls, emergencies like a cup of cheap coffee.
I know of at least three laundromats within a half-mile of my house and I googled them. I decided on So Fresh N So Clean for its location across from Wawa and Home Depot and between the former salon where my favorite nail tech used to work and Papa John’s pizza in the old health food store.
I expected, thanks to the web site, that there was wifi and that I could pay for my wash with my quarters or digital options or use the change machine to get more quarters. But I did not anticipate the app. The app attempted to tell me what washers and dryers were free and texted me when my laundry was almost done.
The hardest part about any health or fitness journey is forming better habits. The exercise isn’t hard. Taking your medicine or vitamins isn’t hard. Heck, if you have a balance of choices in your house, healthy eating isn’t hard.
Fighting with your bad habits is hard. Discipline is hard. Showing up is hard.
Once you walk in the door, going to the gym isn’t hard. Once you have a plan and get the ingredients out of the refrigerator, meal prep isn’t hard.
But change, change is damn hard.
I had two workouts this week with Alex at the Thrive Medical Fitness program at St. Luke’s Hospital. My first was Wednesday, and my second was Friday. I felt good after my first, but man oh man did my body hurt after the second one.
My next workout isn’t until Tuesday afternoon, so I found myself thinking that in order to maintain momentum I should do something today (Sunday). Because at this stage in the game any action that helps reinforce a consistent change in behavior is necessary.
So I contacted Greg at Apex Training and asked if he was hosting his Sunday morning boot camp at 8:30 a.m. The boot camp is drop-in and costs $10. I have never attended one of Greg’s boot camp programs, because I typically spent Saturday morning at the gym with Andrew. And a body needs a chance to recover.
Of course, Greg basically told me to get my ass over there, and so I did. What I love about my time at Apex is that all of the guys and all of the regulars are genuinely enthusiastic and helpful, and we’re all a tad sadomasochistic, which is of course part of what makes us successful. Plus the gym is a slow ten-minute walk from my house. The walk there and back is my warm-up and cool-down.
You see, even if I got to the gym this morning, did one set of exercises and left, it would have been a win. Because the goal was to get up, go out in the cold, and walk over. Once you achieve that mental hurtle, the rest is easy. At this point, I want to encourage myself to do something every other day and to increase my steps, not because of my steps per se, but for heart/cardio health.
And I know some people will use exercise as a reason to “reward” themselves with “cheat” or “treat” foods– but I’m the opposite. If I’m working out, I’m more prone to not sabotage my progress.
And, because I’m stubborn, I survived Greg’s workout.
But the way my body feels, I’m already struggling to get up the stairs.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it multiple times this year. 2024 has brought with it profound hopes and joys, and also some challenges and disappointments. I hate when people say “it’s been a good year” or even a “bad year” because our measures of time are such arbitrary concepts.
I would like to take stock of my life not in calendar years but more in marks of what I have achieved in my various stages and ages.
I believe after November’s blood pressure scare we have that under control. I have an appointment to return to the medical fitness program Friday, and have in the last four months successfully lost 4-5 pounds. Considering my affinity for stress eating, the low level of weight loss is not surprising.
Food certainly plays an important role in my heart health as my blood pressure and weight respond clearly and drastically based on my sugar and salt consumption.
Eva had a double ear infection, sore throat, laryngitis and vertigo three-ish weeks ago, and she is still recovering from that– and she has shared with me whatever gunk started her troubles. I had a small fever last Tuesday night and struggled with an excess of clear phlegm and a cough for the last week. I have coughed more and more at night for the last few days, hours each night according to my AppleWatch, and finally expelled some pale yellow mucus and blood from my nose at 5 a.m. this morning. With luck and dreams I can hope that was the “infection,” and perhaps I can start to mend.
Eva and I haven’t fully embraced Christmas in recent years, especially since my father’s death three years ago and the increasingly-distanced behavior of my parental family. But at the same time, despite my health challenging me, trying to grow my business and watching my financial security evaporate, and in general surrendering a lot of items and ideals that were important if not central to me, I find myself closer to peace than I have been in a long time.
I meet people every day who, in some cases, inspire me, and in other cases, remind me who I don’t want to be. I still spend too much time mourning the past and not enough celebrating the future.
I had coffee with an impressive woman last week– Lenore Kantor– at Plants & Coffee.
Let me share with you these holiday-themed photos I took there.
When one is battling health problems or illness, especially at the holidays, it offers so much time to think undistracted by the work we just don’t have the mental or physical energy to do.
And in my case, I have explored some of Roku TV’s nostalgic offerings for Generation X (and earlier). I have watched Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, Diff’rent Strokes and Pink Panther recently while AppleTV offered me a free month so I am binging La Maison.
Last night, I had the pleasure of accompanying Darrell Parry and William D. Prystauk to a reading at Cellar Beast Winehouse in Andreas, Pa., not that far from where I had breakfast at Bowmanstown Diner earlier this week (in the Palmerton/Lehighton/ Carbon County region). We joined Liz Rosen and JZ Nieves as part of a book-and-wine pairing event that celebrated this unique winehouse as well as our writing.
Darrell opened the evening with some poetry.
Bill went next with the opening of his novel, The Hanging Girl. The wines began with German-inspired white and progressed all the way to a dark, rich red called “Dark Angel” that the host paired with my reading from my second novel, Courting Apparitions.
I wish I could have seen the sign language interpretation of my excerpt as it was the only reading of the evening to contain a very sultry scene– in addition to the appearance of a ghost.
Darrell ended up buying a bottle of Dark Angel, and it was an impressive evening, both because of the organization, participation and the ambiance of the venue AND the excellence of all of the wines.
Checking out of our lovely Doubletree hotel (goodbye cookies!), Gayle and I headed to Sammy J’s Luncheonette for breakfast. Gayle made a comment about the proximity of the state line, not realizing it was so close. So I decided to take her to the next state– less than six miles away– for breakfast.
I knew it was a good choice when we arrived and had to circle around the building to find a parking space. And we found ourselves in a weird dumpy area, next to a fire station and what looked like an empty grocery store. There was a back door to the restaurant that asked customers to please not wear cleats in the restaurant.
I think we found the local spot where all the boomer men eat, which is surely the sign of a good diner. I had a kielbasa and cheddar omelette with baked beans and marble rye toast. Gayle had cranberry walnut pancakes.
After we finished eating, we put gas in the car and the GPS took us a lovely back route to the museum. We arrived in Haverhill about forty minutes before the Museum of Printing opened. Gayle suggested perhaps we could go early, park the car and walk the town. I pointed out that I didn’t believe the museum was in a town.
And sure enough, the museum was in a residential neighborhood, wooded, on narrow, badly aged one-lane streets. So we went to a shopping plaza about 1/3 of a mile away. It had a Marshall’s and I’ve been trying to use a gift card that Little Dog’s Mom gave me for my birthday.
At 9:25 a.m., we turned up on the doorstep of Marshall’s. And they open at 9:30. We waited– and here’s the kicker– a crowd assembled with us. TO GO TO MARSHALL’S. That killed fifteen minutes. And I got some cool stuff: coffee, syrup, candy and PINK NAIL POLISH.
We got into the car a little before 9:50 a.m. and drove back to the museum.
And there, my friends, let me tell you, the folks at the Museum of Printing can REALLY pack stuff in. The museum is relatively small but has just everything in it. The story the museum tells covers so many different aspects of printing. I’ll be writing more about that over at the Parisian Phoenix blog.
Then we stopped at Andover Bookstore, and Andover was cute and at the tail end of a scarecrow festival. The town was quaint but also a bit boring.
Next we visited Lowell, which I’m fairly certain is my great-grandmother’s birthplace. I actually downloaded a new parking app for Lowell. It has a rich history as a transportation center, canals and trains and all that jazz. Once we parked the car we noticed a sign, “Mochinut: More than Just a Donut.” I asked Gayle, “Can we go see what that is?”
And after we ordered some mochinuts (which we tasted after dinner and the ‘classic’ tasted like funnel cake) and a brown sugar thai tea with pudding and boba, we found an art store (a good one) and then we meandered to lala books where E.H. Jacobs is having a book event next week. Very cool store. Had small town vibes in a very urban space. And I bought some local books.
At that point we came to our hotel to find a charming desk clerk. She asked if either of us had pets with us. I answered, “Just my hair.”
We’re at an Extended Stay America. The dishwasher has a swamp in the bottom of it, the sink drips and the internet keeps dropping even though I paid extra for the “enhanced” wifi because I couldn’t get on the internet at all and had no cellular service. I even got to call tech support!
That’s when we went to a nearby Mexican restaurant, Gayle found it and told me to order a margarita. The host was from Macungie. We started chitchatting when I asked if he had a t-shirt with the same phrase as the neon in the doorway: eat tacos, drink tequila, have fun.
And all I need to say about that is that the cocktail I had included cassis, rhubarb bitters, maple syrup and fig and was beyond delectable. And they had this enormous appetizer of Brussel sprouts. It was sweet, savory and just yummy.
I can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I posted anything to this blog– if you’re looking for me I’m using on social media and on ParisianPhoenix.com as more and more my publishing business must support more of my life. It’s hard to believe it’s been 13 months since Stitch Fix closed our warehouse.
So, my personal life isn’t much these days because my professional life has blended so much into my personal life– and I don’t take care of myself with the attentiveness I used to because I have less resources and worse medical insurance.
But a while ago, I went on a tangent about Grey’s Anatomy. (I really cannot believe that it’s still on the air. I cannot stand Meredith herself.) All my Grey’s Anatomy’s posts can be read here.
After I finished all the season’s available of Grey’s Anatomy on streaming and watched Season 20, I turned to The Resident. I had attempted The Resident once before and abandoned it fairly quickly. I started that in early summer and finished it right after my Atlanta trip, a trip where I stayed about a mile from the museum that they used for the exterior of the hospital.
I think Dr. Bell’s transformation on that series– from the hands of death and destruction to an actual nice guy– was rather impressive. The way they handled Emily VanCamp’s (Nurse Nic Nevin) departure from the show was frankly stupid. They had an end-of-season two situation where Nic was stabbed, (one of the quintessential medical drama plots) and the staff saved not only her life but that of her unborn child, only to have her die in a car accident a few months later. As a writer, I would have much preferred to see her leave Dr. Conrad Hawkins and join some international medical NGO than simply die after swerving to avoid hitting a deer.
That show also did a troubling time jump. In the middle of one episode, they fast-forwarded three or four years as a way to get Conrad out of private practice and into the hospital again, since he is the main character. They used trick or treat night, and skipped to a bigger child and a different Halloween costume in mid-episode!
So, while The Resident has some perks, it also aggravated me as most of these shows do. You always have the maniacal surgeon who must have good outcomes at all costs, the doctor with cancer, the doctor hooked on pills. There’s always the natural disaster that threatens the hospital. The generators never work when they should. There is always a field amputation. And there is always a pregnant woman who gets in some horrible accident. And don’t forget the brilliant surgeon who has some catastrophic injury but manages to come back.
I could go on.
I was very skeptical when I started New Amsterdam, but I quickly noticed some nuances about the show. It’s far from perfect– within the first season we hit most of those typical plotlines and stereotypes. But the show grew on me. I’m troubled that they used the dangerous pregnancy plotline, with the caesarean without tools at home scenario, but killed the character off in the same episode with not complications from any of that, but in an ambulance accident.
And the storyline of psychiatrist Iggy Frome infuriates me and endears me to him. In the middle of the show’s run they have a few incidents where he must face the idea that he might be a narcissist, only to drop it without resolution (okay, technically I have about six episodes to go). But his later struggles to define himself and his role in his own relationships is stellar.
They tackle real topics with more than a perfunctory mention. The pill-popping doctor must deal with her sobriety, her addict family members, her sister’s overdose and her own controlling behavior as she realizes she replaces substances with sex and even people. The episode on the overturning of Roe vs. Wade had weight to it, as the medical professionals struggled to find solutions.
Their representation of diversity includes a trans nurse, a doctor with a dwarfism condition that starts as an extra and works his way up to chief of the department (even if that didn’t last), a conservative doctor who fathers a child in a polycule, and a deaf oncology surgeon who participated in one surgery and eventually became a main character– with a whole lot of ASL and other deaf actors/characters.
Now add to all of this that New Amsterdam is based on a 2012 book, Twelve Patients: Life and Death at Bellevue Hospital, and the author really did serve as medical director of Bellevue and survive cancer as the main character of New Amsterdam does… I, of course, had to read the book.
I’m 60 pages in, which is into the third chapter and I’m impressed at how well the book and the television program complement each other.
Angel Ackerman 