Hope, The Pitt

No Matter How Hard.

A couple of nights ago a dinner out with friends ended abruptly as everyone needed to get home to watch The Pitt. I loved it; handbags grabbed, coats flung on, bill paid, out we raced. It has been a long time since I cared about a series that much, or watched it on the night it was released. This Is Us might be the last show I can remember that made a weeknight non-negotiable for me. We are in human, world and climate chaos and this little cameo of an emergency room in a fictitious city has reached out of the mayhem and grabbed us by the heart.

Here are some coping tools I have deployed to combat daily heart plummets: reading, early and late, not screens. Good food, simply made, no shortcuts if possible, centering myself on the cooking and prepping task. Treats, recently I opened a tremendous bar of chocolate gifted to me, Blanxart, and have been wedging a piece into a few inches of fresh baguette with my tea in the afternoon. The French call it ‘le goûter’ and it elevates the slump in a big way. Kindness, to self and others. And if they can’t be kind back, letting it go. And most importantly, talking, seeing and being with my family including extended family as much as they can stand. Go outside. Every coping mechanism makes me feel better.

Why have so many of us been captured by The Pitt? To me, each episode feels like a mirror of our current existence. Realistic often frayed and flawed humans doing their job, taking care of all sorts of situations in extreme crisis. The script writes in skill, compassion and humility along with and a lot of blood, disaster and sadness, red eyes, tired bodies and constantly broken hearts. From the people who clean up the mess to the surgeons they give it their all. And when I think, after each show, what were those writers thinking I know they didn’t have to think very hard: this is an actual microcosm of the world right now.

I know! I am talking about an HBOMax TV show! How did this happen.

Because what has grabbed me is how their efforts, hard and bitter and beautiful, build foundations for hope. And I need to do this too, fiercely, no matter now hard and imperfect my single and imperfect efforts feel.

Exhale. Inhale. Eyes wide open. Witness. VOTE. Every one counts. Talk with a neighbor. Talk to a stranger. Hug your people. Make hope happen.

Bear. Taking a break.

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Bear, Hope, Publications, The Leaving, Twirling

Tinsel + Butter + Submissions

During the next month three of my essays — long and flash — will be published. Ending 2024 this way is amazing and at the same time this is a tough season to promote oneself. I am hauling ornaments and pounds of butter and checking social media and doing edits and today just want to lie down with a hot chocolate. So here is an overview before I break for the eggnog and family and wrapping.

First, on Thanksgiving Day The Keepthings published my piece about a bear, a mother and a gift of love.

Secondly, Two Hawks Quarterly has just published “Twirling” an essay that is the blueprint of my memoir, my story that braids the experience of both being a caregiver and patient. Click on my writing name, Alexandra Dane, to follow the link.

And early 2025 The Sonora Review will release my flash nonfiction piece “The Leaving” which captures, in a split second, the moment my mother transitions in her illness. (I tell you this in case the subject is triggering).

A heady way to end the year. I still struggle with my (free) Substack account, mostly who needs so many outlets? But those in the know think this is essential. All of five people have read that account. To be assessed in 2025? I love WordPress but unless you hit the follow button it is hit or miss if you see my posts.

I am grateful to the editors, the students and the proof readers that put my words into the world. Memoir is a singular perspective, personal and often controversial. Transparency about illness, death, dying and living is very important to me. Equally important is recognizing the threads of hope that lie in the marrow of our bones. That is what I write about.

Cheers to hard work and ending strong in a year of 95 submissions. Grateful for all of it, and you out there that read my words.

May we find peace and love and hope in the next year, despite.

Alexandra Dane

My well-loved garden Buddha holding a little sparkle for the season at the door of my studio.

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