Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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What Would Erma Do?

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featured on erma bombeck

How do you write humor in a crabby world? It’s difficult to be funny when the mood of the country is worse than the temperament of a pack of hungry junkyard dogs, strangers are yelling at each other on social media, and even my usual cheerful friends are picking fights, taking sides and stomping their feet. In the midst of the angst, I ask the redeeming question: What would Erma do?

 

Erma Bombeck’s talent propelled her above rancorous debate and petty sniping. She pounced on an important topic and turned the issue into a teachable moment or a silly punchline. Even those who may have disagreed with her were delighted by her creative wit and profound wisdom. Through 4,000 newspaper columns written from 1965 to 1996, she became America’s favorite female humorist and the best friend to more than 30 million readers. She is my hero.

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What would she say about the current climate of chaos? In my opinion, she would offer an anecdote that portrays the weaknesses of our hectic, self-centered lives. For example, in her book If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What am I Doing in the Pits?, Erma writes about how she was trying to take advantage of some rare time alone to read a book in an airport waiting room. An elderly woman sitting next to her started a conversation, and Erma was irritated. Then she learned that the casket with the woman’s deceased husband also would be on the plane, and they had been married 53 years. Here is what Erma wrote:

“I don’t think I have ever detested myself more than I did at that moment. Another human being was screaming to be heard…All she needed was a listener…It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of supersophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.”

erma bowl of cherries

The book was written in 1978, and the message remains the same. Why are people so angry, and what are they demanding? They want the right to be heard. They want to matter. They want the rest of us to put down our business, look them in the eyes (through the magic of the Internet, if necessary), and say, “I’m listening.”

In Chapter 14 of the same book, Erma notes that life is not all fun and blue skies.

“There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt. And how do you know laughter if there is no pain to compare it with?”

Erma was a member of the national Presidential Advisory Committee for Women and supported the Equal Rights Amendment. Her advocacy was criticized by conservative groups, and some bookstores removed her books. The ERA failed, but Erma did not. She continued to amuse her readers with books titled, When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It’s Time to Go Home and A Marriage Made in Heaven…or Too Tired For an Affair.

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Erma Bombeck’s writing endures because she didn’t dwell on the negative or criticize others. Through all the problems of life, she continued to provide relief with humor and wit. I need to remember that as I’m sifting through the debris of dastardly discourse and wanting to fire off a curt comment. Through making jokes about stress, motherhood and life, Erma left us laughing. One last line: “The only reason I would take up jogging is so that I could hear heavy breathing again.” Thanks, Erma.

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Originally published on HumorWriters.org on February 14, 2017

 

When Loneliness Isn’t Funny

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sad older woman

 

I’ve never met Leslie Delamater Anderson Aitken, but we’re friends on social media. We’re both in our sixties, we like to write, and we’ve been stand-up comediennes. However, her life didn’t turn out as she planned, and now she writes about dealing with loneliness. Her latest blog is a reminder for us to reach out to those who didn’t receive flowers and gifts on Valentine’s Day. Leslie, I’m sending you a virtual hug.

FADING AWAY
by Leslie Delamater Anderson Aitken

I was 23 and married for a year when we moved to our first house in 1976 in southern California. Across the street, an aging widow lived alone in a tiny home only 650 square feet that she and her husband had built in the early 1930s. Her name was Avie, she was in her late 70s, and she had lived alone for more than 40 years.

She was short in stature, partly because of a severe curve in her spine, probably due to osteoporosis. She had been quite the gardener in her day. There was a big blue spruce in the front yard, a rarity for the area, and also a Cedar of Lebanon in the back yard, a persimmon tree and a black walnut tree, along with many very old rose varieties. She even had some lilies of the valley and a couple of rare Jack-in-the-Pulpits.

I would wave at Avie when I saw her outside wearing her big sun hat and watering her yard while balancing with her cane. I said hello a few times, but never really spoke to her other than the occasional greeting. One night her house was broken into by a couple of young thugs who knocked her to the ground, put a love seat on top of her, and stole a can of pennies. They fled out the back door, leaving it open.

A neighbor heard her very faint whimpers, and he told me later he thought it was a cat under her house. He found her and called for an ambulance. Avie never returned to the little house that she built and shared with her husband and where she planted her gardens. She went to a nursing home and passed away the following year.

Through the years, I’ve thought a lot about Avie, and I felt guilty because back then I was young and too busy to reach out to her. I should have stopped to talk with her as she worked in her yard and I never considered the many days and nights that she spent alone, never wondered if she was lonely, never asked if she needed any help with anything.

Now my children have grown up and moved away, and I am divorced. I have only left my house twice in the last two weeks, and in that time I have only talked, in person, to two people who know me. In that same two weeks that I have only eaten two meals in the company of other humans. Those were when I was so lonely for human companionship that I went to eat at a restaurant, not so much for food, but just to be around other people and to hear other voices than my own talking to myself or my pets.

Have I inadvertently picked up the long forgotten baton of solitude left behind by Avie Abbot? How did this happen to ME? And is this how we start to just fade away into the oblivion of someone that people used to know? I’m reminded of a verse in a familiar song: “I am…I said to no one there. And no one heard at all, not even the chair.”

Many well intentioned people have suggested that I volunteer for various organizations and community activities. For many years I traveled that route, “busying” my life with hours of volunteering my time to parent-teacher associations, school functions, and Girl Scout meetings. I increased my services after my children moved away and after my divorce as I tried to fill my hours with “doing things.” I was running as fast as I could from the reality that there was no one home when I got there, and that there was no one coming home “later” either.

There is something weird about all the years I donated my time and energy. There are dozens of groups that welcome the willingness of others who give hundreds of hours of their time and gladly soak them like a dry sponge. But if you stop giving, no one reaches out, or even seems to notice. It is like you were there, and thought you were making a difference, and then just fade away, unnoticed. In all of the years of volunteering, fund raising, parking cars, selling programs, organizing bake sales, delivering cookies, planning events, catering teachers luncheons, I can honestly say that I never made one real friend. Oh, I have lots of acquaintances and people who know my name. But at the end of the day, very few who know my phone number or would think to reach out.

I am only 62, but the thought of a long future filled with vast amounts of companion-less days and weeks feels like cruel purgatory. I will no longer engage in self-serving, busy endeavors to make me feel less lonely. I guess I have lost my motivation, but am not quite ready to fade away. Dear Avie, I should had stopped to talk with you.

 

Speaking at the 2016 Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop

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featured on erma bombeck

I am thrilled to be included with the distinguished faculty for the 2016 Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop scheduled for March 31-April 2, 2016 in Dayton, Ohio.

Other speakers include Jenny Lawson, New York Times bestselling author and author of “The Bloggess,” NPR humorist Roy Blount Jr, bestsellling novelist Amy Ephron, feminist scholar and humor writer Gina Barreca, bestselling humor writer Judy Carter, and stand-up comedian Leighann Lord.

Erma Bombeck’s syndicated column, “At Wit’s End,” appeared in more than 900 newspapers. She wrote 12 books, nine of which made The New York Times’ Bestsellers List. Bombeck also appeared regularly ABC-TV’s Good Morning America for 11 years. She was still writing her column for Universal Press Syndicate and developing a new book for HarperCollins Publishers when she died from complications of a kidney transplant on April 22, 1996.

Bombeck attended the University of Dayton and credits the university for launching her writing career. The University Alumni Association co-sponsors the biennual Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, drawing hundreds of aspiring and professional humor and human interest writers from across the country.

Registration for the 2016 workshop opens at noon on December 1. Spaces are limited, and the last conference sold out within 12 hours.

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2016 Bombeck workshop faculty
Elaine Ambrose

Elaine Ambrose

Elaine Ambrose is an author, syndicated blogger and humorist from Eagle, Idaho, who writes for The Huffington Post, BlogHer, HumorOutcasts and Midlife Boulevard. Her 2014 book, Midlife Cabernet: Life, Love and Laughter After 50, won two national humor awards. Publishers Weekly called the book “laugh-out-loud funny.” In all, she has authored or co-authored 10 books, including Menopause Sucks, a national bestseller that helps middle-aged women learn and laugh instead of break something. In 2003, she founded Mill Park Publishing, which self-publishes books and offers women’s writing retreats.

Workshops

Write Funny, Now! (one time only)
Elaine Ambrose

Experience the serious work of humor writing. In this interactive session geared to beginning writers, participants will learn how to use various types of humor to deliver humorous lines and grab readers. Participants will read a sampling of Erma Bombeck’s columns, discuss why certain lines are hilarious, share their own on-the-spot work and interact with others to improve their writing.

Turn Your Blog Into a Book (one time only)
Elaine Ambrose

This session focuses on the nuts and bolts of creating a self-published book from your best blogs. You will learn how to compile and format chapters, hire professional designers to create the cover and layout, hire editors to read your manuscript, obtain reviews for the cover, purchase an ISBN number and bar code, and submit to print sources such as CreateSpace to produce a paperback and e-book for mass distribution. Targeted to experienced writers who have written at least 100 blogs or 10,000 words of a manuscript.

 

Writing and Wellness Retreat Inspires Women

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writers wellness group 2015

Mill Park Publishing of Eagle has sponsored “Write by the River” writing retreats since 2008, and the quarterly events are scheduled in two deluxe cabins near the mountain town of Garden Valley, Idaho. Previous faculty for the retreats includes Pulitzer Prize Winner Anthony Doerr, Whiting Award Winner Alan Heathcock, and New York Times bestselling authors AK Turner and Jennifer Basye Sander.

Anthony Doerr and Alan Heathcock

In 2015, a women-only option was added to include a focus on wellness in addition to writing. The weekend is organized and hosted by Elaine Ambrose, Mill Park Publishing owner and author, and Emily Nielsen, a wellness coach and owner of Balance Family Fitness. Activities include healthy meals, gentle yoga, writing workshops set to music, fireside chats, and free time to write or explore. Attendees have arrived from four states, and the retreats usually are sold out.

cabin back deck

The next Women’s Wellness and Writing Retreat is May1-3, and details are on the website at http://womenswellnesswritingretreat.eventbrite.com/?s=32519943. The costs begin at $250 for two night’s lodging, all meals, healthy snacks, speakers, writing materials, and individual coaching. The Saturday-only option is available for $100.

Mill Park Publishing produces books written by women. The books have won 14 prestigious awards, including a Silver Medal and a Bronze Medal from the Independent Publisher Book Awards program. The company has produced 26 published authors, and two more books are in production. Mill Park Publishing donates a portion of books sales to various local charities, including Treasure Valley Dress for Success, the Cabin Writers in the School Program, and the Women’s and Children’s Alliance.

 

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Four Weeks and a Funeral

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funeral flowers

A month ago, I followed Alice in Wonderland and fell down a mysterious rabbit hole and experienced events that must have been orchestrated by the crazy rabbit and the hookah-smoking caterpillar. I soared, laughed, cried, and crawled through a series of events that changed my life forever.

On October 16, I endured an MRI for a knee injury and wrote a silly blog titled “Don’t Fart During an MRI.” I scattered 632 words into ten paragraphs and submitted the essay to The Huffington Post and it was published on October 27. In two weeks, the piece went viral and received more than 640,000 likes on Facebook and was reprinted on dozens of websites around the world. I received emails from people in other countries and had offers to host trips for middle-aged women, appear at wine tasting events, arrange book signings, and appear at a music show in Nashville.

On November 6, Whoopi Goldberg mentioned me on the ABC show “The View” and talked for several minutes about the essay. My book sales soared, and people subscribed to my website newsletter. I’ve been a professional writer for several decades and never intended to reach international status by passing gas. It definitely was the fart heard around the world, and I was amused at being the “air to the throne.”

On October 21, I had surgery to repair a torn meniscus in my knee and a cracked bone in my leg. I couldn’t put any weight on my ravaged leg for one week, so was confined in my recliner with my leg strapped to an ice machine. At least I had my laptop so I could blog about the wonders of legal narcotic painkillers.

My sweet mother’s health had been declining for several years, and compassionate Hospice associates were keeping her comfortable at a nearby assisted living facility. During her last week, I was able to use crutches to go to her room, join my daughter as we talked with her, and play her favorite spiritual music. On October 31, my husband Studley and I made our last visit and kissed her goodbye. She passed away the following morning. I blogged about her on Huffington Post for several days as I planned the funeral for November 11.

My mother’s funeral offered beautiful music, an inspirational message, an amazing display of floral arrangements, and heart-felt tributes from my children to their grandmother. At the following graveside service, a chill wind passed through the cemetery. My 7-year-old granddaughter, named after my mother, sat on my lap and we kept warm under a blanket. The sky was overcast as we walked away, as if all the heavenly tears were waiting for us to leave before they fell. My dear Studley held my hand, as usual.

On November 8, I learned that I had received three writing awards: First Place for Humor in the North American Book Awards competition for my book Midlife Cabernet, one of the Top Ten Authors in the Idaho Book Award program, and First Place for Cover Design. The awards ceremony was November 13 in Boise. Of course, the awards were presented on a stage that had 12 enormous steps and I resembled Quasimodo from the book Hunchback of Notre-Dame as I lumbered up post-surgery to accept the trophies.

All these events created the perfect storm of intense physical and mental pain combined with feelings of recognition and personal achievement. I struggled with the agony in my leg and sobbed for my dear mother while I checked my Huffington Post numbers and wrote a news release about the book awards. This surreal time has caused me to reflect on priorities and evaluate what is truly important. I conclude that life is crammed with highs and lows, joy and sorrow, opportunity and struggle. I feel fortunate to hang on and not fall off of this wild, funny, traumatic, and magnificent ride.

In the 1994 movie Four Weddings and a Funeral, Andie MacDowell and Hugh Grant play delightful characters in the popular romantic comedy about love and loss. These past four weeks have presented a powerful personal script and I only wrote a small part of it. Now it’s time to grab some popcorn, find a comfortable seat, and get ready for the sequel.