Most of the time I have no idea what I'm doing … which is okay with me. Then something happens or I see something, and ding-ding-ding: into action I fly.
I'm a solitary 74-year-old writer and editor who has worked in every job in publishing, has had novels published by small presses and journalism published everywhere. I have a book agent, but as we approached the end of 2023 with no bites on my last two decidedly NYC novels, Cats on a Pole and The Spectators (whose blurb describes it as a love letter to NYC's Upper West Side and friendship), I knew it was time to take action. The ding-ding-ding was deafening, clearly about the upcoming election and both books—written to find answers to how I (and anyone who reads them) could handle living in an uncontrollable herd that was going in a devastating direction.
So I started a publishing company, Kano Press, to get these books into print as professionally as the work I've done for others, ensuring circulation before November 2024.
On September 5th, two months before the election, I read an article in the West Side Rag, "West Side Canvas: ‘A Heart Surrounded by Diamonds,’ Dispatch 1 From Verdi Square." In the first line it mentioned a group of volunteer gardeners, the Friends of Verdi Square. The Spectators features a pivotal scene in Verdi Square, three long blocks from where I live on the Upper West Side: mad dinging! Flouting my usual M.O. of procrastinating joining any group until I've driven myself crazy about "How much commitment will it be?" and "Do I really want to do this?" I leapt to the computer and filled out the application. Kathleen Murphy, one of the co-founders, got back to me that afternoon and by Saturday I was deadheading dried-up sunflowers, watering "the seating area," and learning the names of areas I'd been passing by for 50 years.
The Saturday after Trump won, my gardening colleagues were sick with grief and anger. I was merely somber. I'd expected this and planned for it by publishing the two novels, joyfully committing to a daily meditation practice, and by joining Friends of Verdi Square so I'd have new friends for this very moment.
This April, I missed a couple of Saturday gardening sessions because I was attending demonstrations, so I've really been looking forward to this weekend. But Friday it got nixed:
From Quentin Webb, the other co-founder:
Due to the rain due tomorrow, we will NOT be meeting to garden.
The good news is that our new little plants will get a good drink this week.
The bad news is that we’ll miss hanging out and gardening together!
See you all next week!
Quentin is a graphic designer, and I suspect the creator of this little urn … which brings me to the subtitle of this article:
At the close of the last gardening season, we cleared the central row of urns that divide Verdi Square into an east and west side. They were full of elephant ears:
(Video by Kathleen Murphy; Quentin is the good-humored guy in the tan jacket under whose bed most of the elephant ears overwinter.)
And I took home two babies to see if they would sprout indoors after dormancy. Voila! Reaching for the sun! As am I! As are so many of us.
May the 4th be with us …
Postscript
I'm fairly new on Substack—my first column was March 23, due to a ding-ding-ding about publishing a time-sensitive piece of satire, The 70 Million Old People's March. Since I've been here, I've witnessed so many smart, committed news people who've left jobs controlled by money and fear and are relentlessly and ethically doing what the Fourth Estate is meant to do (shout-out to Jim Acosta). They are reporting facts. Facts = Light. I'm thrilled to be part of this community. What is happening here is part of a growing tsunami of Light that cannot fail.
Betsy Robinson is an editor, fiction writer, journalist, and playwright. She has written about books for Publishers Weekly, Lithub, Oh Reader, and many other publications. Her novels Cats on a Pole and The Spectators were published by Kano Press in 2024. She writes funny stories about flawed people and examines our herd culture. www.BetsyRobinson-writer.com.
A growing tsunami of light! Thank you for these hopeful words!