Click on the photo to go to the website, or find her under “Inspiring Jewelry” on my blog roll. Mother’s Day. Spring. Love. Travel. Music. Something for everyone. She’s got it all.
Riley has a mad crush, but I’m not so sure about this guy. He seems a bit cocky, and might be a lot of trouble.
We have not seen her this excited since the Rolie Polie Olie obsession of 2002.
It’s weird, because she saw “The Squeakquel” movie in January, but the *love* only started over the last few weeks, after I bought the CD for the kids to enjoy while I was away.
Personally, I think it’s the boy/girl thing happening with the Chipettes that has her heart a flutter. She’s lookin’ at Alvin, the way I looked at Fonzie and Richie, when they were dating Laverne & Shirley.
It’s actually kind of sweet.
As far as crushes go, this one seems pretty benign.
No phenols in 24 hours and an extra long soak in epsom salts and Riley is a new person today.
Happy. Playing. So engaged, dancing to Alvin & the Chipmonks in her room.
Not one tear. Not one scream today.
Trying not to beat myself up for dropping the ball with the phenols. Trying not to cringe imagining certain people reading my last profanity laden post. Not taking it down though because seriously, that’s what it’s like sometimes. I try to stay positive, but I’m only ever posting a mere fraction of our lives. Sometimes it is just a lot to deal with.
I finally went to bed at 5:30 AM and slept ’til 10:00AM. When I woke, Todd came up to greet me, hugged me. He’d read it,
“You got the poison out, huh?”
Yes. That’s exactly it.
Spent the afternoon with Seth planning a mother/son overnight for next weekend. He is so excited. We really need some one on one. We’re going to an indoor water park. I wanted camping, but he got to pick. He promises me, “We’ll camp next time.”
Thanks so much for your kind comments and loving thoughts. Have a good weekend everyone.
1:48 AM and I’m up because I need a fucking cup of tea. It’s a crutch in times of stress. Not the tea, the swearing.
Wiped out, I went to bed at 10:00PM and tried to sleep. It didn’t take, because my baby girl is having a really hard go of it and I’m losing faith. My heart aches.
Todd worked late, came in to bed I don’t know around 12:30? 1:00?
He’s the only one who truly understands and I want to turn to him but I equally don’t want to, a million reasons why. A few sobs on his chest and I push him away.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
“If we really create our own reality, there is something seriously wrong with me,” I say.
He can’t help but laugh. I don’t.
I tell him my darkest thoughts and he does not judge.
Visions of her future that do not look good at all. Twisted wishes of her dying before us, because the idea of my precious girl winding up living in a psychiatric ward or on the streets is unbearable to me.
We go over the last couple of weeks. What’s different? Why is she so out of her mind?
Another horrid day at clay class. They are making Dr. Seuss houses and she had poured over her books all week, planning it in her head. She wanted to be there. She wanted to do it. No one is forcing Riley to go to fucking clay class. She flipped out attempting to roll out her first slab. She isn’t coordinated enough to do it easily on her own, but she refuses help. She didn’t want to look like a baby. Then she had a meltdown. Same story, different day.
It’s a small homeschool class, just five other kids, sweet, sweet kids, who are kind and understanding but the blood curdling screaming was starting to upset them. They were cringing. It wouldn’t stop. I took her in the hall, and she couldn’t stop. I tried to take her down the hall, away from the class and she fought me.
When she was tiny you could pick her up and remove her. Now, she is up to my chin. I resorted to dragging her by the arm, kicking and screaming down the hall, and Jingle did not like it. She BARKED furiously at me. She thought I was hurting Riley.
In a brilliant grasp of sarcasm mid-meltdown Riley screamed,
“WHY DON’T YOU JUST PUT A DIAPER ON ME! PUT ME IN MY CRIB! I’M NOTHING BUT A BIG BABY! I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO NEEDS HELP!”
I am so sick of having to be the room parent. The coach. The chaperon. Always there. Talking her off the ledge. She doesn’t want to need me and frankly, I could fucking do without it too Riley.
Could it be the phenols? Every couple of years we get kicked in the ass with phenols. How is it I forget?
Phenols are those wonderfully healthy anti-oxidant good for your heart things found in lots of fruits, tomato sauce, red wine, etc. She does not tolerate them well if taken in high doses over time.
She’s been chugging apple juice.
The giant two gallon jug of apple juice from Whole Foods we bought a couple of weeks ago was so good we bought another the next week. To help keep her hydrated, you know, after the recent severe ’bout of constipation.
Could it be, like Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat Comes Back, we’ve one giant mess creating another, bigger one?
I wait ’til his first snores, then slink off downstairs for my tea.
While it steeps, I pour the fucking apple juice down the drain.
Angelo Zuccolo was born into a family of actors, poets, sculptors, painters and singers. Within this context, the enchantment and romance of a world filled with sensory, sensuous and sensual poetry were present from sunrise to sunset. His insights into the flavor and spice of the human heart simmer with the delicate aroma of love both found and often lost. Join him for a very special and romantic event.
Friday, April 23, at 7pm, at RiverRead Books on Court Street in Binghamton, Angelo Zuccolo will be reading/performing from his books of poetry.
If you are in the Binghamton area, do not miss this wonderful (and free) event.
This event was scheduled in February, but got postponed due to a snow storm.
We went to a new age expo over the weekend. The kids saw a little picture taking/aura reading booth and wanted to have theirs read. I post these not because I take great stock in aura reading, (especially from a picture booth). I post because Seth’s picture has brought me so much joy, and if I put up his picture, I have to post Riley’s too.
I promise we did not get our children stoned before the event.
The print outs which came with the pictures basically said Riley is very creative and Seth is extremely “connected.”
Just because someone doesn’t do something I would like them to do, does not make them wrong.
Just because I feel sad, does not make them wrong.
When I make them wrong I merely feel worse, because I get kicked out of alignment.
That’s all pain is.
Feeling separate from who we really are.
If we knew how loved and adored we are. How supported we are by All That Is. How perfect we are in our messy, imperfect expansion. If we knew our value, our uncomfortable emotions could not last long. They would be springboards, causing us to move toward improved situations.
Uncomfortable emotions are not the enemy.
What if we talked to them?
“Thank you sadness, I know you are attempting to tell me something important. I’m willing to sit with you a moment, and listen to what you are saying.”
No one need be wrong, for me to be okay.
Even my sadness isn’t wrong. She’s a wise friend, who maybe tells me what I don’t want to hear, but what I need to know.
One of the best books on dealing with challenging kids I’ve ever read was Dr. Ross Green’s The Explosive Child. It changed so much for us. Dr. Green has a radio talk show on Tuesdays and takes questions on how to help your easily frustrated child do well. The shows are archived so you can take it in at your convenience.
If your child has flexibility issues, I highly recommend reading the book. And remember, as Dr. Green says, (paraphrased) when you are dealing with an inflexible person, it is asking for disaster to match their inflexibility with your own.
One evening on the Caribbean cruise, I met Richard. He’s a singer.
It was just before the karaoke show, (which I never would have participated in but enjoyed watching) and we discussed my public singing phobia. He used to have it too, and overcame it. He said you have to really want it. I said, I didn’t think I really wanted it. I said I didn’t have confidence what I had to offer, was really a gift to those who might be listening.
He said many times, if you just do it, the talent will come later. He said, he thought it was interesting I was in two choirs but afraid to sing.
I said, never mind.
He said, The Beatles weren’t initially all that talented, but became genius.
Goaded by Diana Leigh(another singing sensation) Richard brought his guitar and entertained us as we waited to get into the Abraham seminar one morning. The two of them got everyone singing. It was fun. Diana says it is a shame we have so many hang-ups about singing. She says in other cultures, people don’t worry about it. They just sing. It isn’t judged. Of course that’s easy for her to say because she is an amazing singer.
The moral of the story is, just singing is enough. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I’ll keep telling myself that.
Here are some videos of Richard singing. He’s got his own channel on You Tube.
He’s recently kicked me, and punched me in the head.
The other night, he got in late, and I was already blissfully asleep. I roused a little when I felt him get into bed, and began to scoot backward toward him to cuddle up. At the exact moment I scooted, he swung his knee forward, delivering a solid blow to my left flank, delivering a wicked charlie horse…this when I was still half asleep.
When I howled in pain, he proceeded to laugh. But not just any laugh. You see, his mouth was taped. So the laugh was all “pltghwwwt-hem-hem-hemplugfttt.”
My butt hurt for two days.
He has yet to apologize.
In fact, in a classic case of blaming the victim, he accuses me of “scooting too forcefully.”
A few nights later, we were lying in bed, talking before turning out the light. He was lying on his back, right forearm resting on his forehead. He turned to the left, in response to something I said, and brought the arm with him, misjudging how close I actually was (or so he says) and clocked me in the side of the head with his fist.
Again with the laughter, although this time no tape.
Last week was the first day in a new session of clay class after spring break. Riley had a hard time again. The start of anything new is a trigger for her. The clay was wet, and it stuck to her rolling pin. She didn’t want help, because she didn’t want to be treated “like a baby.” She ran from the room, screaming.
Jingle was with us. Riley would pet her and start to calm down, only to escalate again over fear of “falling behind” due to being out in the hall, dealing with her strong feelings.
It went around and around.
Today at Girls on the Run (yes we’re in week eight of a new session) Riley had a hard time. In a lesson about body image, the girls drew outlines of each other on the blacktop with chalk, but her chalk didn’t show up because it was too dark. And she was uncomfortable because it was too hot, and the sun was too bright, and then she knelt in a wad of gum, and imagine the germs! She ran away from the group screaming several times. Then she became upset because she hadn’t done as many laps as everyone else, and you know the drill.
Around and around.
Both times, last week and today, when she was melting, I sat with my daughter, not close enough to hover, and let her be. I didn’t try to persuade her to go back.
She was baffled by my silence. In between her fretting and sobs she asked,
“Mom are you mad at me?”
“No Dolly, I’m not,” I assured her.
Both times, last week and today, as she was going around and around with herself, a song was going around and around in my head like a mantra.
It’s a Rickie Byars song we sing at church, led by our music director, Kathleen.
Ricky Byars Beckwith, is the musician leading the Great Lakes Unity Music Conference next month here in Cleveland(see my blog roll to the right for info on that).
Parents of kids with special needs get this line all the time. I personally don’t think God is some wise old dude in the sky, doling out disabilities based on parental strength. Often it seems people use this quote because they don’t know what to say or do, and they feel helpless. Or worse, it is a way of washing their hands of the situation. God did it. Who can argue?
If you are ever thinking about letting that tired old line roll off your tongue, here is an alternative to try, which I guarantee will go over better…
“How ’bout I baby-sit for a couple of hours?”
Even if the parents can’t let go of their white knuckle grip and let you, they’ll remember your kindness.
Anyhoo. Windsong, Cleveland’s feminist chorus, is lucky enough to have a very talented composer in our midst, and our director Karen Weaver commissioned her to write a song specifically for the 30th anniversary of the group. It is a gorgeous ballad called I Have Learned(Not all roses are red).
These are some of the lyrics, in blue, written by Jan C. Snow:
“I have learned, in my years, sometimes we are given more than we can bear.
The trick is in knowing what to set down.
-it’s as much about balance as strength.”
And that’s just it, isn’t it? There are some things we just have to set down. I’ve had to set down any idea of a career for a while. My child has needed me home. I’ve set down worrying about what some relatives think of me. The burden was too heavy to carry. I’ve set down my old ideas about parenting, education, health care & medicine, forgiveness, friendship, marriage.
“The over and under and over and under of loss and love.”
So many times I’ve struggled against what is, wishing for things to be different. But while I’ve been home, I’ve had the most wonderful opportunity to delve into matters of the soul. While I must be available, I’m not needed every minute. This has given me time to read and write and look deep within myself at areas which needed to be healed, and are still healing. What once felt like a loss has actually been a gain.
“And I know a wish on a star, might not make it so, but it raises our gaze to the sky.”
Life is different than I ever expected it would be,and it continues to change all the time.
“I have learned, not all roses are red. Not all violets are blue. “
It is rich, and it is blessed. And some days it does feel like more than I can bear. Especially if I look out too far ahead.
And everyone has something. There is a dear sweet woman in the chorus whose husband recently became paralyzed in an accident. Maybe you are caring for aging parents. Perhaps you are going through a divorce. Perhaps you have health issues, or financial trouble, or abuse in your past. Maybe addiction weaves its way into your life. Maybe you are lonely. Our hearts are tender things.
“I have learned, not all roses are red. Not all violets are blue.”
Recently, I spent an evening in Peurto Rico with two love birds.
Betsy is mom to three children, one of whom is a teenage boy with autism. Her husband John is a physician who uses holistic biomedical therapies to help kids on the spectrum obtain optimum health. They live in Wisconsin. We were celebrating Betsy’s birthday, the day the picture above was taken.
Dr. John spends time early in the morning visualizing each patient he will be seeing, in their full perfection. Betsy oversees the day-to-day operations of their practice, Elementals Living and organizes national conferences and retreats on wellness-related issues. She’s also just finished a book on solutions for picky eating, and has a resume a mile long with one impressive accomplishment after the other! I’ll be writing more about her picky eating book here soon.
It is wonderful to meet another autism mom, who understands and seriously applies Law of Attraction principles to her life. I have so enjoyed getting to know her better over the last several months and to finally meet her in person on the cruise.
If you are looking for a bio-med doc in the Wisconsin area, John might be your guy.
They also run a store out of their practice where you can buy all kinds of supplements, holistic remedies, books, special foods for special diets, etc.
Do check it out!
P.S. I’ve put the store on my blog roll for future reference.
If you’ve followed this blog for a while you know about our challenges with playgrounds. They fall under the category of things that are supposed to be fun for kids, but aren’t fun for Riley.
Once in a while though, for some reason, when the planets (or neurotransmitters) align just right, she is able to master motor tasks she usually isn’t capable of.
Yesterday she was adamant we go to Preston’s Playground, a beautiful park a few neighborhoods over. It wasn’t, “Will you take me to the playground?” It was “You will take me to the playground.”
The kids had been so patient and sweet at the singing bowls event, I obliged.
As they walked into the park my typically reticent Riley basically strutted.
She ran and ran, keeping up with her brother.
She hung upside down, unheard of!
She went down this bumpy slide several times. She could never bring herself to do it before.
I braced myself when she sat at the top of this one. Her depth perception issues make slides particularly challenging. Especially steep ones.
She said, “I’m scared. This is so steep!”
I thought she’d get mad because Seth was doing it easily. I thought she might give up and run away. I braced myself for tears and screaming but had my camera ready just in case. Then, she did it!
Next came the biggest challenge, climbing.
Usually by the time she gets to the second rung, she is screaming, calling herself a “baby,” or a “loser,” begging for help to get down. Often she’ll insult the other children who are climbing around her, calling them “show-offs.”
I cringed as she approached this climbing thing-a-ma-bob.
But no worries.
She scaled it like it was nothing. Like she does it all the time. Like two weeks ago she wasn’t wailing, “GET ME DOWN! HELP!”
These sudden bursts of ability have happened before. This is one of the challenges for kids on the autism spectrum and the people who work with them. Just because they are capable of doing something one day, does not mean they can do it the next. Those who are less flexible themselves have a really hard time with it. They think the kids are being willfull. I’ve been guilty of it myself, but I’m starting to understand more and more.
It doesn’t matter what she did in the past.
It doesn’t matter what might happen tomorrow.
She had a really great day, and therefore Seth had a really great day too. I will turn it over and over in my mind, milking every drop of joy I can from it.
After many days of the kids passing a tummy bug back and forth, today was the first time everyone was feeling well at the same time.
Being stuck inside the house with sick kids takes its toll on me. I do my best to take little breaks here and there, but when Todd is working long stretches, I start to feel trapped.
So I informed the kids, “You are getting dressed and we are getting out of this house!”
I didn’t know where we were going, but the sun was shining, everyone was well and we were going.
She invited me to an open house in a private home right in my neighborhood where there were crystals, and readings (tarot? psychic? I’m still not sure),etc. She said I could bring the kids.
We went, and Riley and Seth played like little angels, entertaining themselves in the backyard the whole time.
I got to talk with grown ups! There were crystals and jewelry for sale, but the big event was the singing bowls.
When it was time, everyone gathered and Kathleen Calby (a different Kathleen) began playing. I swear I felt the resonance in every cell of my body. All the stress of the last two weeks just vibrated right out of me!
There were about 20 or so people and all were instantly brought into a meditative state through the sound. Calby plays the bowls impromptu, there is no set order or sequence. She said she listens to which one is asking to be played.
I closed my eyes and felt peaceful, and glad I had manifested such a nice moment. I felt happy to be invited. Thanks Kathy! Happy my children could be out of my eyesight, but okay. (That was a long time coming). Happy there are people in my neighborhood who are open minded and sensitive to energy.
Afterward, Kathleen Calby allowed Seth and Riley to play some of her bowls, and talked to them about the different names for each. Riley tuned right in, to the sound of the bowls. Seth also liked it a lot. Just for your information, there were no clouds floating beind her today like in the video below. At least, I don’t think there were. My eyes were shut so I can’t say for sure.
The hosts who opened their beautiful home for the event were lovely.
As you can discern from the title, religion is woven throughout Kathleen Deyer Bolduc’s Autism & Alleluias. Despite attending Unity churches for several years, I consider myself one of those now cliched “spiritual but not religious” people so I wasn’t sure what I would think about it. Since everyone does not have to think exactly like me, and since I like to support other parents of kids with special needs I agreed to be part of her on-line book tour.
It didn’t take long to find a connection. In church on Christmas Eve, her son is getting agitated. Kathleen discovers if she changes her attitude, her son’s energy shifts as well.
Score! Exactly what I know to be true.
In the next chapter she owns up to being royally pissed off (my words not hers).
I can relate.
She meditates.
Me too.
She has moments of utter despondency in which her child extends heartbreakingly beautiful kindness.
Been there.
She considers the possibilty that even though her church is conservative, her son’s loud, full body way of participating in the service might not be wrong.
Love this.
I’m glad I read the book. As I went through Autism & Alleluias, I was able to see how despite differences in spiritual beliefs, autism parents are more alike than unalike.
We all love our kids.
We all struggle.
We all shine brilliantly sometimes.
One Source.
Many paths.
All perfect.
One love.
Amen.
For info on Deyer Bolduc’s April 8th Webinar, which will focus on helping churches be more welcoming of people with differences, click here.
So what do you do after you were just bamboozled into your first solo and you want to push it far, far from your mind? You take the kids to the zoo. How about HT’s new fully shaved head? He finally went all the way. This is us waiting for the trolley at the Cleveland Zoo. I’ve told you before how Todd’s eyes disappear when he laughs. Here’s actual proof. I have not seen his eyes in 14 years because he thinks I’m such a riot.
Seth got his hands on the map, and went all “little expert” on us. It was such a beautiful, relaxed afternoon, we went with it and let him navigate. He loves to navigate.
My babies.
My guys.
My girl.
Monkeys watching the monkeys.
Candygram!
I don’t believe you. You’re that pesky shark!
I’m not a shark ma’am, I’m a dolphin.
For some reason we wound up spending a lot of time in the aquarium. Not rushing is good. No crowds at the zoo on Easter Sunday. It was just us and a few Jewish folks.
We leaned over a stone wall, and stared at the giraffes, mesmerized by their patterns and slow lanky movements. Each of us thinking our own thoughts,
What’s it like to be tall?
What’s it like to be tall?
What’s it like to be tall?
What’s it like to be tall?
This is Riley feeling victorious after duping her mother earlier in the day.
She claims “the chocolate made her do it.”
Come to think of it, she did eat a small chocolate bunny that morning.
We woke up. The kids found their Easter Baskets, and hunted for eggs. Riley and I were to be at the church by 9:00 to rehearse for the 11:00 service. At about 8:30 she started complaining her stomach hurt. She had been sick with a flu bug for a few days and I knew she meant it when she said she didn’t feel well. But she wanted to go. She wanted to sing! She wanted to do her solo. So we went.
Upon walking into the sanctuary, she saw the other kids, and froze like an animal being led to the slaughter(pre-Temple Grandin). She’d forgotten about the kids. Grown ups she feels safe with. Most adults she comes in contact with are loving and supportive. With kids, you just never know, and she didn’t know these kids well. We missed some rehearsals because she was sick. Therefore, she’d only ever rehearsed the solo with the children’s choir director, not the whole group. Things were different, and that is hard for her.
Riley got up on the stage and back down again about five times during rehearsal. She went for a walk with Betse the children’s choir director, who coached her on creating a safe space for herself. Betse told her she didn’t need to do the solo, everyone would still love her just as much, no matter what. One time Riley got up on stage and looked like she was doing well. She was engaged! But no, she no longer wanted the solo.
But this girl had claimed that solo! No one had even suggested it. She just knew it was hers and asked for it. I hated for her not to do it. I didn’t want her to regret it or be disappointed in herself.
Kathleen the director looked around, trying to figure out who would do it.
Mommy mode kicked in.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
I thought if we did it together it might work. Riley was thrilled. She stood on stage holding my hand, and we rehearsed some more. My heart soared for her!
Then she looked at the other kids.
And began to fret.
She whispered, “What if they think I’m a baby and need my mom up here with me?
In her sweet little Easter dress, she started doing the silent jumping, ramping up into meltdown mode.
Meanwhile, time was ticking away. I knew the solo better then anyone from practicing with Riley. The choir was counting on us.
This might be a good time to reiterate my absolute fear of singing in public. I’ve been in choirs here and there, my whole life, always hiding in the background. Support staff. I’m comfortable there, where other stronger singers hit the cues and the high notes, and no one notices if my voice cracks. Singing one on one with Riley was going to be a stretch for me. Way out of my comfort zone, but I’d do it for her.
Rehearsal went on and Riley became more and more upset. More adamant about not doing the solo, or a duet. During a bathroom break, I told her, “Riley, I’ve never sung by myself before, and I’m nervous, so I really need your support. Can you just stand up there with me?” She said she would, and honestly when push came to shove I thought she’d join in.
Time was up.
Todd and Seth and Jingle came in and sat down. As the service started, I alternated between wanting to faint, and having a straight talk with myself. Who cares if you screw up? This is about teaching your daughter by example. How can you expect her to face her fears if you aren’t willing to do so yourself?
During the service, announcements were made and there was a nod to the choir and a mention of a solo being performed by “Michelle O’Neil.” Todd did a cartoon-ish double take. Eyes wide. I averted my eyes and couldn’t look at him the rest of the time. He thought maybe they messed up and really meant Riley. He knew I would not have volunteered for a solo.
Right about this time, I became aware of feeling majorly duped. On a metaphysical level it was as if Riley’s soul and Kathleen’s (the music director who knows my fear) were colluding to get me over a major block, using my love of Riley to do it. I also became aware of feeling like I might pee my pants. Also, did it have to be the most crowded service of the year? Easter Sunday? C’mon! Things were snowballing out of control!
The song featuring “Riley’s” solo came right after a meditation in which Rev. Tony referred to all of us as being “the perfect child of God.”
Enough of this already.
Breathe.
You are a grown woman.
A mother.
Breathe.
Calm down, and sing like “the perfect child of God” you are.
And then we were up.
And then I was up.
Riley stood beside me, but it was not a duet.
She patted my arm, and smiled.
She was so proud.
She supported me.
And the mic didn’t come on for a few seconds. And I was shaky. And I don’t think I quite got the high note at first. But the second time I did.
At 41 years old, this is the first time I have ever done a solo in my life.
Riley beamed.
During the fast part she looked at the other kids and opted not to do the hand motions we’d practiced because they weren’t doing them. Annoying, but age appropriate, not wanting to be different.
Immediately after church her stomach ache was gone and she does not appear to feel the least bit disappointed in herself for not doing the solo she insisted was hers.
The whole thing still feels a bit blurry.
I wouldn’t believe it myself if Todd hadn’t recorded the whole thing.
This is me being brave. This is me being a mother.
I’m scared to post it, but that’s why I need to post it.
At church tomorrow, the adult and children’s choirs are combining, and Riley has volunteered to do a solo! She just flat out claimed it. No one asked her. She wanted it. She’s never done anything like this before. I am in awe.
I am the total opposite. I hide as much as possible in the back of the choir. It is strange, given Riley’s overall shyness, for her to be so gung ho. It is strange given my overall non-shyness, to be so fearful. I am thrilled not to have transferred my fear of public singing onto her. She has a very sweet little singing voice.
She’s actually been quite sick the last few days. Hopefully she’ll be up to speed in time for the Easter service.
Keep her in your thoughts.
I can’t promise she’ll go through with it, but it seems like she’s going to.
The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise. -Alden Nowlan, poet, novelist, and playwright (1933-1983)
