Marjorie E. Belson's Blog
May 3, 2015
Nothing Is Promised Author Interview
Nothing Is Promised
Just back from the Los Angeles Times Book Festival. Great event, wonderful venue, excellent participants.
My interview for local television follows:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-WZ997a...
Just back from the Los Angeles Times Book Festival. Great event, wonderful venue, excellent participants.
My interview for local television follows:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-WZ997a...
March 5, 2015
Lunch in the Loft
Lunch in the Loft, Thursday, March 12, noon
Start: 03/12/2015 12:00 pm
Author Marjorie Belson recounts the devastation of her breast cancer diagnosis, the support from her one-of-a-kind mother-in-law, her effort to regain control of her life upended by 9-11. A quintessential New Yorker, Marjorie found renewed joy and meaning. In her fiestiness, you'll find laughter to be a very good medicine.
Cost: $20 includes a copy of Nothing is Promised and catered lunch. Please RSVP by March 11.
Location:
616 Broadway
Seaside, Oregon
97138
United States
Start: 03/12/2015 12:00 pm
Author Marjorie Belson recounts the devastation of her breast cancer diagnosis, the support from her one-of-a-kind mother-in-law, her effort to regain control of her life upended by 9-11. A quintessential New Yorker, Marjorie found renewed joy and meaning. In her fiestiness, you'll find laughter to be a very good medicine.
Cost: $20 includes a copy of Nothing is Promised and catered lunch. Please RSVP by March 11.
Location:
616 Broadway
Seaside, Oregon
97138
United States
November 23, 2014
N.Y. Times: Faces of Breast Cancer
Undefined and vulnerable, I felt as if I were crashing backward through space. I slipped into a post-operative depression after my bi-lateral mastectomy on August 2, 2001. In order to keep what remained of my sanity, I returned to work too soon, but misjudged the level of my stamina, as well as the fact that much of one's life is uncontrollable.
My second day back at work: September 11, 2001. How could I, as well as thousands of others know that on September 11, 2001, evil men with twisted minds would mark my city, New York, as a site for mass destruction.
In seconds, a still autumn sky would become animated with flames and smoke, choking the air with the sickening smell of lives destroyed. My relief in being alive was tempered by the overwhelming loss of so many in a matter of minutes.
Like countless others, I watched television, transfixed by its unrelenting coverage of our nation's greatest catastrophe. Humbled by a world gone mad, I offered my prayers for the souls and families of those who'd perished. In an instant, I'd become an insignificant speck and found it difficult to justify space for my personal trials.
I made an effort to accept that each step of my own, unpredictable, journey was a sign for me to live my life responsibly, as I'd been given a chance to redefine my soul and grant myself sanctuary from the world in which I had come to dwell. For me, as for many of us, each step forward was painful to take, but the need to move forward was far greater than the pull to retreat. I accepted that my life had been deeply altered, rather than remain trapped, frozen in a world of memories.
In truth, I'd been granted the opportunity to redirect and renew my faith in myself, and my ability to reach a profound, level of awareness of the potential richness of my life. Cancer had attacked my body and challenged me in my entirety to not only decide whether I would choose to self immolate, or rise again like a Phoenix resurrected, but also inspired me to write my memoir, “Nothing Is Promised” as way to encourage others struggling with their very, personal challenges.
My second day back at work: September 11, 2001. How could I, as well as thousands of others know that on September 11, 2001, evil men with twisted minds would mark my city, New York, as a site for mass destruction.
In seconds, a still autumn sky would become animated with flames and smoke, choking the air with the sickening smell of lives destroyed. My relief in being alive was tempered by the overwhelming loss of so many in a matter of minutes.
Like countless others, I watched television, transfixed by its unrelenting coverage of our nation's greatest catastrophe. Humbled by a world gone mad, I offered my prayers for the souls and families of those who'd perished. In an instant, I'd become an insignificant speck and found it difficult to justify space for my personal trials.
I made an effort to accept that each step of my own, unpredictable, journey was a sign for me to live my life responsibly, as I'd been given a chance to redefine my soul and grant myself sanctuary from the world in which I had come to dwell. For me, as for many of us, each step forward was painful to take, but the need to move forward was far greater than the pull to retreat. I accepted that my life had been deeply altered, rather than remain trapped, frozen in a world of memories.
In truth, I'd been granted the opportunity to redirect and renew my faith in myself, and my ability to reach a profound, level of awareness of the potential richness of my life. Cancer had attacked my body and challenged me in my entirety to not only decide whether I would choose to self immolate, or rise again like a Phoenix resurrected, but also inspired me to write my memoir, “Nothing Is Promised” as way to encourage others struggling with their very, personal challenges.
