I loved every word of this chapter. Not only the beautifully depicted love scenes but all the meaning and implications of them. It was also important for me to get to know Vivian intimately because my youth is slowly leaving me, and we were taught not to like ourselves when this happens. I have had these thoughts in my head for a long time but was never able to confirm they were true. Thank you so much.
When I read your words about youth slowly leaving you, my heart cracked open. Because honey, I've been there. We all have. That moment when you catch your reflection and think, "Who is that person with—OH MY GOD—age spots?!?" That fear that perhaps the best of life is behind you. That terrible suspicion that society might be right—maybe we are supposed to fade away as we age, especially as women.
But sweet pea, listen to me: That's bullshit. Beautiful, cultural, pervasive bullshit that we've all been fed since we were little girls.
I wrote Vivian and Riley's love scenes because I needed you—yes, YOU—to see that intimacy doesn't belong exclusively to the young and firm-bodied. I wrote it because the most radical act of defiance is to love yourself completely in a world that profits from your self-doubt.
You say you've had these thoughts in your head but couldn't confirm they were true. Let me be your confirmation: The story of your life isn't a bell curve with the best parts clustered in your twenties and thirties before a long, sad decline. It's a fucking treasure hunt, with the most valuable gems often buried in the later chapters.
Your gratitude moved me to tears because it means I did what I set out to do—to reach across the page and say, "You're not alone in these thoughts. I have them too. And we're both going to be okay."
The day will come when you'll look in the mirror and see not what time has taken, but what it has given you. And on that day, you'll understand that aging isn't just okay—it's a goddamn privilege denied to many.
As I said last week to she who I plan to spend the rest of time with, when we're our age and we look at ourselves, we see all those who were in us, but when I see her and she sees me, we both see each other for the first time and only know what's now. Which is the person we fell in love with.
TC, what you shared landed with such quiet beauty. That ability to see now—not through the lens of what once was, but through presence, recognition, and love in its most grounded form—is a gift.
Your words mirror what I’ve only just begun to experience: that we carry all our former selves inside us, yes—and yet the truest connection happens when we’re finally able to meet one another without performance. Without projection. Just here. Just now.
Thank you for naming that kind of love. The kind that sees.
Arnaly, your words touched something raw and real in me.
I had the honor of editing this chapter for Gloria—and I felt it not just as a piece of writing, but as a reclaiming. A fierce, embodied truth about desire, aging, shame, and the stories we were never meant to carry.
At 57, I’ve only just begun living in my true self. For 47 years, I was fully dissociated—functioning, surviving, but without access to who I really was. Reclaiming my authenticity, my voice, and my body has shown me firsthand what Gloria so powerfully expresses through Vivian: that desire, joy, and intimacy aren’t reserved for the young. They belong to us now, in these bodies, in this life.
What keeps us small isn’t age—it’s conditioning. Belief systems implanted so early and so quietly that we think they’re ours. They’re not. They’ve just made themselves at home in our minds without permission.
Gloria’s work is more than a story—it’s a mirror. And I’m here not only to stand beside it, but to amplify it. Because every woman who has felt erased, ashamed, or too late deserves to know: you are not too late. You are right on time.
Jay, please allow me to praise your work and thank you for that note you just wrote for me. We’re contemporaries! I just turned 58 in November and after going through heavy menopausal struggles, things are finally settling down. I am feeling the privileges of being this age- especially not caring for what the rest of the world thinks about me.
After reading Gloria’s piece, my feelings about my place in the world have been all validated and I felt empowered to keep going on the same path that I’ve been on for the last two years since I separated.
Thank you so much again for helping me confirm what my instinct was telling me along with Gloria. She should be a national treasure. I honestly don’t know how she’s not much more famous. She’s a fantastic writer.
You both just brought so much joy to my life. Thanks again!
Arnaly, Thank you so much for your thoughtful note—and yes, absolutely, I consider us contemporaries too. There’s something powerful about finding others who are walking this part of life with open eyes and open hearts.
I love what you said about the privileges of this age—especially not caring what the world thinks anymore. That hard-won freedom? It’s priceless. And I’m cheering for you as you continue this path post-separation. Two years of claiming space for yourself, listening to your instincts, and standing in your truth—that’s something to be proud of.
Gloria truly is extraordinary. Her words carry that rare kind of wisdom that doesn’t just comfort—it stirs something awake. I agree with your sentiment why nobody so far has "discovered" her for the "big stage". I feel honored to work with her and even more so to witness how her writing has affirmed your own journey. Let’s keep walking, side by side—more ourselves than we’ve ever been.
Yes, let's keep walking, facing forward and side by side. I'm so happy to have found you. I think the universe will grant you whatever you ask for, but you need to look for it first. In the little time I've been reading Gloria, I have been inspired and awakened. I'm thrilled and looking forward to what the future will bring. Love to you!
Arnaly, your words hold such clarity and care. I’m moved by the way you speak of both seeking and trusting—that quiet dance between looking and allowing. Yes, let’s keep walking. There’s something steadying about knowing we don’t have to do it alone, especially in this chapter of life where we get to rewrite the rules. And I share your sense of awe about Gloria—what she awakens isn’t loud, but it’s lasting. I’m so glad her voice found you, and that yours found me.
Love to you too—let’s keep walking forward, eyes open, hearts steady.
Thank you so much, Gloria for dedicating these words for me. I’m tearing up as I write this. One day, I realized that the lines in my face were not wrinkles, they were the signs of all the times I laughed. It happened while remembering this lady who mentored me when I was a little girl. She had a frown whenever she was serious, but she wasn’t an unhappy person, and in my 8 or 9 year-old mind I couldn’t understand why her mouth had a frown. Only when I looked in the mirror and saw it on my face, i understood it. I wrote about this in a post some time ago: https://open.substack.com/pub/arnaly/p/whats-behind-a-frown?r=2u8mtw&utm_medium=ios
I have also been defiant to my native culture (Venezuela) while letting my greys grow and now coloring them in whatever color I feel like. Right now, they’re blue. But they change. I have always had my mom and my 17 year old son giving me grief because of that. Thank you again. I’m so grateful for having found you. Much love to you!
What an incredibly beautiful piece of writing in all its aspects. You and your lucky wife must have something very special that many others can only dream of..... My hat is off to you and your most excellent creations, Vivian and Riley. We wait for further adventures..... As for the advance of "age" - it is just a number really. My mother, who made it to 99, told me when she was 84 (my age now) that she didn't feel any different about life in general from the way she had at 25. I am much the same way - obviously, we know much more now and our interests and relationships have become more mature, but our curiosity and wish to know more - what's over that mountain, what's in that box - has never left, and that has made life so much more interesting.
My house burned on 27 February to a near total loss. This is the first of your essays I have read since then. I will share it with my wife when she awakens. Thank you.
I've lost nearly 10 lbs since the "far" due to a full-out effort to retrieve as many damaged souls as I can find. Not a diet I would recommend, but it seems pretty effective. And I was pretty slim and fit to begin with for an old geezer.
Please know that Jody and I thoroughly "enjoyed"-- what an understatement!-- your essay. A truly beautiful and highly charged picture of how two people can "show" (another colossal understatement!) their love. Beautiful crescendo of eroticism that accompanies the slow development of how two lovely and formidable individuals can find one another almost by chance and discover the treasures they both deserve.
Thank you for sharing your well-crafted and beautiful writing.
I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your home. That kind of devastation is beyond words, and I can only imagine the weight you and your wife are carrying right now.
As the humble editor of this very special of Gloria’s pieces, I just want to say how honored I am that this was the first essay you returned to. The fact that you chose to share it with your wife in the midst of all this means something profound. Gloria wrote this chapter with such truth and tenderness—and knowing it reached you in this moment touches me deeply.
Wishing you both comfort, steadiness, and strength in this fragile time.
Thank you for your kind and warm thoughts. We were not hurt and our orange marmalade clowder of 5 felines (momma and her adult kittens) were quickly rounded up and crated into the car which was moved safely away. We're doing relatively well, but the losses have been great. One bright moment was the rescue of Jody's grand piano from its dank and cold living room where it once sang warmly to everyone's delight. The movers got it out as the ceiling, wet from the water cannons, was slowly falling around it. It was relatively undamaged and now sits resolute in our cabin nearby. A delight to hear Jody steal moments from her busy schedule to play "Ode to Joy." A great connection with Gloria's seductive piano scene.
Yes! Ode to Joy! How perfect. My heart is with you. We evacuated dozens of times when we lived in Montecito, California and lived in fear of losing everything each and every time.
You have been through the inferno, too, so you know the emotional upheaval. Wrapping the high number of unsalvageable books from my extensive library (but not Eliot's Four Quartets, soaked to the proverbial gills, but still part of me after all these years. "Burnt Norton" has taken on new meaning.) in body bags doomed to the dumpster has been especially painful. But my order is already in for new volumes of the poetry of Kim Addonizio, a character who would fit cozily in one of your chapters.
Cheers as we celebrate a new day, despite all the carnage that tries to consume us.
Reading your words this morning stopped me in my tracks. The image of Jody at the piano—playing *Ode to Joy* in your cabin, while the memory of that soaked, falling ceiling still lingers—feels like a quiet anthem of resilience. I’m deeply moved by how you’ve woven both loss and light into your reflection here.
And your “orange marmalade clowder”—what a phrase, what a scene. I can almost see them all, tucked safely in the car, while the world you knew shifted around you. That you and Jody and your feline family made it through safely is no small thing.
Thank you for sharing this moment of grace and survival with me. I’ll carry it with me, especially that resolute piano, holding its ground like a witness and a balm.
Well, dear, you’ve done it…your musical ‘ouvre’…and paired it with the most crucial way of communicating ever. Brava & brave! Encouraged so many lovely memories for me & hopefully eased us all past that hesitation to speak our deepest truths.
Crystal-Lee, Jay Siegmann, Gloria Horton-Young -- She who stirs the storm!
With the tender, stormy beauty, what is so important about your piece is the TRUTH, the truth of Mother Nature, in the love, inner strength and freedom of a woman.
As a man who has loved one woman 54-years, married 52 to Nancy, the loving, strong, inwardly free woman, who is EVERYTHING to me, your love-story here, your story of mutual strength in high moral action in society to oppose racism, this speaks to my heart, my mind, and my spirituality.
One of my favorite writers, that Jay Siegmann can read, is Johanna Moosdorf (12 July 1911 - 21 June 2000) loved Paul Bernstein, a man in touch with his femininity, in 1932; moved in with this Political Scientist in a home for youth involved with unions; the move required the couple to marry.
Shortly after the Machtübernahme (Take over of Powers) in 1933, the SS elevated a swastikaed flag at the union home. The young, bold Johanna Moosdorf went across the street to the Berlin Police and got them to force the SS to take down the flag and repair the SS-induced breach of peace! Johanna Moosdorf was no shrinking violet.
The couple contemplated leaving Germany, but Paul Bernstein thought the weird tyranny would be a fascinating laboratory for his political-science studies. A war would end the regime soon, anyway, so thought Mr. Bernstein.
Only it became too late to escape.
Then Paul Bernstein was sent into labor camp. Johanna Moosdorf, as bold in her thirties as she had been in her twenties, got the authorities to mitigate Paul Bernstein's encampment, so he could ostensibly support the family with two young kids..
In 1942, Johanna Moosdorf intervened as Paul Bernstein was on a train to a concentration camp. At the very last minute, the loudspeaker yelled, "Paul Bernstein, Absteigen!" (Paul Bernstein, Back to the Depot.)
But in September, 1943 it was too late. Paul Bernstein was killed at Auschwitz. The rest of Paul Bernstein's blood family was murdered.
And Johanna Moosdorf never recovered, but became a great post-war novelist.
In "Freundinnen" -- Girlfriends -- culminated a teaching: Nazism was a distortion of testosterone aggressions into a murderous regime. The Third Reich was reminiscent of murderous Inquisition Tribunals that relentlessly murdered thousands of women, including, in some villages, three generations of women, in witch hunts, with torture and ultimate execution on the pyre.
The "Freundinnen" (Girlfriends) loved each other (true in real life for Johanna Moosdorf) as well as one man who was very in touch with his own femininity (Paul Bernstein).
They nurtured the story of a Mother Goddess, which made femininity the major creative and cultural force.
This is a work, among Johanna Moosdorf's novels, that merits reading and re-reading.
We are living in an age of toxic perversion of testosterone. Obviously, testosterone, made by Mother Nature herself, has beauty and proper room to flower.
But MAGA repeats the toxicity that Johanna Moosdorf points out with surgical precision.
Like Johanna Moosdorf's baptism of German Feminism into a force of Nature, your own work stands on its own, to be read, to be re-read.
Armand, you are teacher, a poet, a wordsmith, a lover, a historian who holds our collective lives and stories gently in learned hands. I’m so honored to have your voice here.
This is a wowser💕 to savor and ponder women’s need to be open, honest, passionate, and rebellious; in other words, resist society’s fences. I suspect every reader will read it again and get more out of the non-sexual scenes like the passing of the necklace to a new generation. You provoke passion with intellectual bonds. The bonds of unified souls resisting the establishment. Kudos 💕
I wanted to hit several high notes in this chapter combining music and its power in any resistance and the power of love in all its many manifestations.
Why did this just show April 14 morn ? You posted on my 74 birthday. Noting or soft warning of intimacy between 2 woman ? A symphony of ergotism, sexuality and pleasure. You’ve the gift of reviving women’s loins with your own hands . On or off the keys.
There you go again, making me spit out my coffee and blush in the same sentence. That, my darling, is no easy feat.
First of all, happy glorious 74th birthday—and I mean that in the most Meryl-at-the-Oscars, Daphne-at-her-typewriter, Joan-Crawford-in-a-damn-ballgown kind of way. You are a walking literary plot twist. The kind that sweeps in wearing pearls and ruins every man’s nap.
As for your comment—what can I say? You cracked open a door and blew the whole boudoir wide open. A symphony of ergotism? I had to lie down with a cold compress and reapply my lipstick. You understand, Jennifer. You get it. We are the kind of women who read between the lines, underline the steamiest bits, and then dogear the page in case we want to revisit it later—with champagne.
Your words? A benediction. A spell. A love letter wrapped in silk and tied with a ribbon scented like memory and rebellion. If I’ve stirred anything awake, darling, it’s because it was already roaring just beneath your surface. I simply played the overture. With or without the keys.
From one wild, word-soaked woman to another—
With scandalous affection and a perfectly sharpened pencil, G
G L O R I A. Blush ? You?! I believe. The site of spitting coffee same time. Classic. Your writing is so beautifully erotic and soft . Brings back times with a certain man in my life . The intimacy was too powerful. To real . Too painful
This left me speechless in an amazing way As we age we become so much more critical about ourselves After reading this I realize the process of aging just gets better with time and we should stand tall and proud as getting this far in life is beautiful and I am thankful Amazing work Gloria.I am so proud of you and your works of art
I love the complexity of these Chapters. The sheer audacity of the plot, married to the intimacy and layer upon layer of character reveals. And, apart from all that, an excellent read.
Vivian would reply, Oh là là… séduire sans effort ? Chérie, à mon âge, c’est une question de regard, de silence bien placé… et d’un parfum qui laisse des regrets sur l’oreiller.
I loved every word of this chapter. Not only the beautifully depicted love scenes but all the meaning and implications of them. It was also important for me to get to know Vivian intimately because my youth is slowly leaving me, and we were taught not to like ourselves when this happens. I have had these thoughts in my head for a long time but was never able to confirm they were true. Thank you so much.
Dear Brave One, Arnaly—
When I read your words about youth slowly leaving you, my heart cracked open. Because honey, I've been there. We all have. That moment when you catch your reflection and think, "Who is that person with—OH MY GOD—age spots?!?" That fear that perhaps the best of life is behind you. That terrible suspicion that society might be right—maybe we are supposed to fade away as we age, especially as women.
But sweet pea, listen to me: That's bullshit. Beautiful, cultural, pervasive bullshit that we've all been fed since we were little girls.
I wrote Vivian and Riley's love scenes because I needed you—yes, YOU—to see that intimacy doesn't belong exclusively to the young and firm-bodied. I wrote it because the most radical act of defiance is to love yourself completely in a world that profits from your self-doubt.
You say you've had these thoughts in your head but couldn't confirm they were true. Let me be your confirmation: The story of your life isn't a bell curve with the best parts clustered in your twenties and thirties before a long, sad decline. It's a fucking treasure hunt, with the most valuable gems often buried in the later chapters.
Your gratitude moved me to tears because it means I did what I set out to do—to reach across the page and say, "You're not alone in these thoughts. I have them too. And we're both going to be okay."
The day will come when you'll look in the mirror and see not what time has taken, but what it has given you. And on that day, you'll understand that aging isn't just okay—it's a goddamn privilege denied to many.
With fierce love!
Gloria
As I said last week to she who I plan to spend the rest of time with, when we're our age and we look at ourselves, we see all those who were in us, but when I see her and she sees me, we both see each other for the first time and only know what's now. Which is the person we fell in love with.
TC, what you shared landed with such quiet beauty. That ability to see now—not through the lens of what once was, but through presence, recognition, and love in its most grounded form—is a gift.
Your words mirror what I’ve only just begun to experience: that we carry all our former selves inside us, yes—and yet the truest connection happens when we’re finally able to meet one another without performance. Without projection. Just here. Just now.
Thank you for naming that kind of love. The kind that sees.
The kind we grow into.
—Jay
That she who you plan to spend the rest of time with is a lucky woman.
Arnaly, your words touched something raw and real in me.
I had the honor of editing this chapter for Gloria—and I felt it not just as a piece of writing, but as a reclaiming. A fierce, embodied truth about desire, aging, shame, and the stories we were never meant to carry.
At 57, I’ve only just begun living in my true self. For 47 years, I was fully dissociated—functioning, surviving, but without access to who I really was. Reclaiming my authenticity, my voice, and my body has shown me firsthand what Gloria so powerfully expresses through Vivian: that desire, joy, and intimacy aren’t reserved for the young. They belong to us now, in these bodies, in this life.
What keeps us small isn’t age—it’s conditioning. Belief systems implanted so early and so quietly that we think they’re ours. They’re not. They’ve just made themselves at home in our minds without permission.
Gloria’s work is more than a story—it’s a mirror. And I’m here not only to stand beside it, but to amplify it. Because every woman who has felt erased, ashamed, or too late deserves to know: you are not too late. You are right on time.
With recognition and warmth,
Jay
Jay, please allow me to praise your work and thank you for that note you just wrote for me. We’re contemporaries! I just turned 58 in November and after going through heavy menopausal struggles, things are finally settling down. I am feeling the privileges of being this age- especially not caring for what the rest of the world thinks about me.
After reading Gloria’s piece, my feelings about my place in the world have been all validated and I felt empowered to keep going on the same path that I’ve been on for the last two years since I separated.
Thank you so much again for helping me confirm what my instinct was telling me along with Gloria. She should be a national treasure. I honestly don’t know how she’s not much more famous. She’s a fantastic writer.
You both just brought so much joy to my life. Thanks again!
Arnaly, Thank you so much for your thoughtful note—and yes, absolutely, I consider us contemporaries too. There’s something powerful about finding others who are walking this part of life with open eyes and open hearts.
I love what you said about the privileges of this age—especially not caring what the world thinks anymore. That hard-won freedom? It’s priceless. And I’m cheering for you as you continue this path post-separation. Two years of claiming space for yourself, listening to your instincts, and standing in your truth—that’s something to be proud of.
Gloria truly is extraordinary. Her words carry that rare kind of wisdom that doesn’t just comfort—it stirs something awake. I agree with your sentiment why nobody so far has "discovered" her for the "big stage". I feel honored to work with her and even more so to witness how her writing has affirmed your own journey. Let’s keep walking, side by side—more ourselves than we’ve ever been.
Yes, let's keep walking, facing forward and side by side. I'm so happy to have found you. I think the universe will grant you whatever you ask for, but you need to look for it first. In the little time I've been reading Gloria, I have been inspired and awakened. I'm thrilled and looking forward to what the future will bring. Love to you!
Arnaly, your words hold such clarity and care. I’m moved by the way you speak of both seeking and trusting—that quiet dance between looking and allowing. Yes, let’s keep walking. There’s something steadying about knowing we don’t have to do it alone, especially in this chapter of life where we get to rewrite the rules. And I share your sense of awe about Gloria—what she awakens isn’t loud, but it’s lasting. I’m so glad her voice found you, and that yours found me.
Love to you too—let’s keep walking forward, eyes open, hearts steady.
😌
Thank you so much, Gloria for dedicating these words for me. I’m tearing up as I write this. One day, I realized that the lines in my face were not wrinkles, they were the signs of all the times I laughed. It happened while remembering this lady who mentored me when I was a little girl. She had a frown whenever she was serious, but she wasn’t an unhappy person, and in my 8 or 9 year-old mind I couldn’t understand why her mouth had a frown. Only when I looked in the mirror and saw it on my face, i understood it. I wrote about this in a post some time ago: https://open.substack.com/pub/arnaly/p/whats-behind-a-frown?r=2u8mtw&utm_medium=ios
I have also been defiant to my native culture (Venezuela) while letting my greys grow and now coloring them in whatever color I feel like. Right now, they’re blue. But they change. I have always had my mom and my 17 year old son giving me grief because of that. Thank you again. I’m so grateful for having found you. Much love to you!
What an incredibly beautiful piece of writing in all its aspects. You and your lucky wife must have something very special that many others can only dream of..... My hat is off to you and your most excellent creations, Vivian and Riley. We wait for further adventures..... As for the advance of "age" - it is just a number really. My mother, who made it to 99, told me when she was 84 (my age now) that she didn't feel any different about life in general from the way she had at 25. I am much the same way - obviously, we know much more now and our interests and relationships have become more mature, but our curiosity and wish to know more - what's over that mountain, what's in that box - has never left, and that has made life so much more interesting.
Bruce, this is such a wonderful and also comforting answer. I am looking forward to the years ahead.
My house burned on 27 February to a near total loss. This is the first of your essays I have read since then. I will share it with my wife when she awakens. Thank you.
David, if there is anything I can do to help you and yours, reach out. I’m here.
Please let me know your wife’s thoughts about this chapter and I’d like to know yours as well.
Thank you for supporting my work.
I consider you a long distance friend.
Thank you again for your kind words and support.
I've lost nearly 10 lbs since the "far" due to a full-out effort to retrieve as many damaged souls as I can find. Not a diet I would recommend, but it seems pretty effective. And I was pretty slim and fit to begin with for an old geezer.
Please know that Jody and I thoroughly "enjoyed"-- what an understatement!-- your essay. A truly beautiful and highly charged picture of how two people can "show" (another colossal understatement!) their love. Beautiful crescendo of eroticism that accompanies the slow development of how two lovely and formidable individuals can find one another almost by chance and discover the treasures they both deserve.
Thank you for sharing your well-crafted and beautiful writing.
Very best
David,
I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your home. That kind of devastation is beyond words, and I can only imagine the weight you and your wife are carrying right now.
As the humble editor of this very special of Gloria’s pieces, I just want to say how honored I am that this was the first essay you returned to. The fact that you chose to share it with your wife in the midst of all this means something profound. Gloria wrote this chapter with such truth and tenderness—and knowing it reached you in this moment touches me deeply.
Wishing you both comfort, steadiness, and strength in this fragile time.
Thank you for your kind and warm thoughts. We were not hurt and our orange marmalade clowder of 5 felines (momma and her adult kittens) were quickly rounded up and crated into the car which was moved safely away. We're doing relatively well, but the losses have been great. One bright moment was the rescue of Jody's grand piano from its dank and cold living room where it once sang warmly to everyone's delight. The movers got it out as the ceiling, wet from the water cannons, was slowly falling around it. It was relatively undamaged and now sits resolute in our cabin nearby. A delight to hear Jody steal moments from her busy schedule to play "Ode to Joy." A great connection with Gloria's seductive piano scene.
Yes! Ode to Joy! How perfect. My heart is with you. We evacuated dozens of times when we lived in Montecito, California and lived in fear of losing everything each and every time.
I can’t imagine your loss. ❤️
Thank you, dear lady.
You have been through the inferno, too, so you know the emotional upheaval. Wrapping the high number of unsalvageable books from my extensive library (but not Eliot's Four Quartets, soaked to the proverbial gills, but still part of me after all these years. "Burnt Norton" has taken on new meaning.) in body bags doomed to the dumpster has been especially painful. But my order is already in for new volumes of the poetry of Kim Addonizio, a character who would fit cozily in one of your chapters.
Cheers as we celebrate a new day, despite all the carnage that tries to consume us.
David,
Reading your words this morning stopped me in my tracks. The image of Jody at the piano—playing *Ode to Joy* in your cabin, while the memory of that soaked, falling ceiling still lingers—feels like a quiet anthem of resilience. I’m deeply moved by how you’ve woven both loss and light into your reflection here.
And your “orange marmalade clowder”—what a phrase, what a scene. I can almost see them all, tucked safely in the car, while the world you knew shifted around you. That you and Jody and your feline family made it through safely is no small thing.
Thank you for sharing this moment of grace and survival with me. I’ll carry it with me, especially that resolute piano, holding its ground like a witness and a balm.
With care,
Jay
Thank you, Jay. Your poignant words are balm in themselves. Jody and I both were moved by your response.
David and Jody, thank you.
Well, dear, you’ve done it…your musical ‘ouvre’…and paired it with the most crucial way of communicating ever. Brava & brave! Encouraged so many lovely memories for me & hopefully eased us all past that hesitation to speak our deepest truths.
I’m so happy the story spoke to you. ❤️❤️❤️
Crystal-Lee, Jay Siegmann, Gloria Horton-Young -- She who stirs the storm!
With the tender, stormy beauty, what is so important about your piece is the TRUTH, the truth of Mother Nature, in the love, inner strength and freedom of a woman.
As a man who has loved one woman 54-years, married 52 to Nancy, the loving, strong, inwardly free woman, who is EVERYTHING to me, your love-story here, your story of mutual strength in high moral action in society to oppose racism, this speaks to my heart, my mind, and my spirituality.
One of my favorite writers, that Jay Siegmann can read, is Johanna Moosdorf (12 July 1911 - 21 June 2000) loved Paul Bernstein, a man in touch with his femininity, in 1932; moved in with this Political Scientist in a home for youth involved with unions; the move required the couple to marry.
Shortly after the Machtübernahme (Take over of Powers) in 1933, the SS elevated a swastikaed flag at the union home. The young, bold Johanna Moosdorf went across the street to the Berlin Police and got them to force the SS to take down the flag and repair the SS-induced breach of peace! Johanna Moosdorf was no shrinking violet.
The couple contemplated leaving Germany, but Paul Bernstein thought the weird tyranny would be a fascinating laboratory for his political-science studies. A war would end the regime soon, anyway, so thought Mr. Bernstein.
Only it became too late to escape.
Then Paul Bernstein was sent into labor camp. Johanna Moosdorf, as bold in her thirties as she had been in her twenties, got the authorities to mitigate Paul Bernstein's encampment, so he could ostensibly support the family with two young kids..
In 1942, Johanna Moosdorf intervened as Paul Bernstein was on a train to a concentration camp. At the very last minute, the loudspeaker yelled, "Paul Bernstein, Absteigen!" (Paul Bernstein, Back to the Depot.)
But in September, 1943 it was too late. Paul Bernstein was killed at Auschwitz. The rest of Paul Bernstein's blood family was murdered.
And Johanna Moosdorf never recovered, but became a great post-war novelist.
In "Freundinnen" -- Girlfriends -- culminated a teaching: Nazism was a distortion of testosterone aggressions into a murderous regime. The Third Reich was reminiscent of murderous Inquisition Tribunals that relentlessly murdered thousands of women, including, in some villages, three generations of women, in witch hunts, with torture and ultimate execution on the pyre.
The "Freundinnen" (Girlfriends) loved each other (true in real life for Johanna Moosdorf) as well as one man who was very in touch with his own femininity (Paul Bernstein).
They nurtured the story of a Mother Goddess, which made femininity the major creative and cultural force.
This is a work, among Johanna Moosdorf's novels, that merits reading and re-reading.
We are living in an age of toxic perversion of testosterone. Obviously, testosterone, made by Mother Nature herself, has beauty and proper room to flower.
But MAGA repeats the toxicity that Johanna Moosdorf points out with surgical precision.
Like Johanna Moosdorf's baptism of German Feminism into a force of Nature, your own work stands on its own, to be read, to be re-read.
What you say here is so true.
It is as true as it is deeply beautiful.
Armand, you are teacher, a poet, a wordsmith, a lover, a historian who holds our collective lives and stories gently in learned hands. I’m so honored to have your voice here.
Gloria Horton-Young: Your pen subtly moves the Storm!
This is a wowser💕 to savor and ponder women’s need to be open, honest, passionate, and rebellious; in other words, resist society’s fences. I suspect every reader will read it again and get more out of the non-sexual scenes like the passing of the necklace to a new generation. You provoke passion with intellectual bonds. The bonds of unified souls resisting the establishment. Kudos 💕
I wanted to hit several high notes in this chapter combining music and its power in any resistance and the power of love in all its many manifestations.
You did that and far more! I’ll never hear Beethoven the same❤️❤️
Then my work here is done ✔️
Great chapter like all the others .Gloria . Very intense in every way . hugs and peace to you
Thank you 🙏
Exhilarating!
Thank you, Ian. Vivian would ask you, “How so? Can you clarify that?” 🫠
Vivian would like to clarify everything, but some things are just spontaneous as she surely knows.
That are! Well said. ❤️
Why did this just show April 14 morn ? You posted on my 74 birthday. Noting or soft warning of intimacy between 2 woman ? A symphony of ergotism, sexuality and pleasure. You’ve the gift of reviving women’s loins with your own hands . On or off the keys.
Oh Jennifer—
There you go again, making me spit out my coffee and blush in the same sentence. That, my darling, is no easy feat.
First of all, happy glorious 74th birthday—and I mean that in the most Meryl-at-the-Oscars, Daphne-at-her-typewriter, Joan-Crawford-in-a-damn-ballgown kind of way. You are a walking literary plot twist. The kind that sweeps in wearing pearls and ruins every man’s nap.
As for your comment—what can I say? You cracked open a door and blew the whole boudoir wide open. A symphony of ergotism? I had to lie down with a cold compress and reapply my lipstick. You understand, Jennifer. You get it. We are the kind of women who read between the lines, underline the steamiest bits, and then dogear the page in case we want to revisit it later—with champagne.
Your words? A benediction. A spell. A love letter wrapped in silk and tied with a ribbon scented like memory and rebellion. If I’ve stirred anything awake, darling, it’s because it was already roaring just beneath your surface. I simply played the overture. With or without the keys.
From one wild, word-soaked woman to another—
With scandalous affection and a perfectly sharpened pencil, G
G L O R I A. Blush ? You?! I believe. The site of spitting coffee same time. Classic. Your writing is so beautifully erotic and soft . Brings back times with a certain man in my life . The intimacy was too powerful. To real . Too painful
Totally blushing! (Like Riley)
Good!!
This left me speechless in an amazing way As we age we become so much more critical about ourselves After reading this I realize the process of aging just gets better with time and we should stand tall and proud as getting this far in life is beautiful and I am thankful Amazing work Gloria.I am so proud of you and your works of art
Thank you. That means so much to me.
This is beautiful and freeing. Thank you. Your writing is a gift to us all.
Thank you 🙏 Karen.
I love the complexity of these Chapters. The sheer audacity of the plot, married to the intimacy and layer upon layer of character reveals. And, apart from all that, an excellent read.
Thank you 🙏 Jennifer. High praise from you and I am thrilled!
Delicious, enticing, the music playing like fingers against the skin. Erotic and pure. Well done. 👏🏻 Brava 👏🏻 Encore por favor.
Merci, ma douce enfant.
🤭 not a child here, dear Gloria. I think I’m only about six months or so younger than you!
My French is very rusty, but I understand the basics 😁
Then—
“Merci, ma tendre et douce.”
(Thank you, my tender and sweet one.)
"that particular edition of Baudelaire you were pressed against is nearly a century old"
Delightful mischief 😎
Vivian te lance un clin d’œil, malicieuse.
(“Vivian throws you a wink, mischievously.”)
She’s always got style, that one.
Et séduire sans effort
Vivian would reply, Oh là là… séduire sans effort ? Chérie, à mon âge, c’est une question de regard, de silence bien placé… et d’un parfum qui laisse des regrets sur l’oreiller.
❤
The mesh of music, sexuality, trust and resilience…Brilliant.
Thank you so very much! ❤️