I’d Like to Thank the Academy…

To kick off Thank You Thursdays, I want to address those of you reading this post right now.

So far, I’ve only let my own personal network know this website exists. Meaning you are here at my explicit and intentional invitation.

That you showed up means the world to me.

Thank you.

Lucky for me, I have much more to say on this subject. Not so lucky for those of you short on time. The Academy would definitely cut to commercial before I get even part way through.

Which is why I’ve included subheads so you can easily skip to the section(s) pertaining to you.

Long, but skimmable. I may need to make that something of a specialty.

I do know it’s more customary to thank people at the conclusion of a project. Not just as you’re getting started. Oh well. Won’t be the first or last time I do things out of order.

Sorry. Not sorry?

Who I Really Need to Thank

I’ve tried to address everyone below and sure hope I haven’t left anyone out. I am so grateful to you, my dear readers. However we’ve come to know one another.

Soul Sisters and Brothers

Some of you are my soul sisters and brothers. Our connections forged in shared experiences we’ll never forget. I can’t imagine my life without you and am honored to have you here.

Former Classmates

Some of you are former classmates. We opened our brains together and drank in knowledge. Came to understand the world in a different way.

Or we passed notes in Mrs. Bright’s 7^th period Spanish class. Or learned to tourné potatoes under Chef Ted’s watchful eye. Or claim our stories in an online class with Anya Achtenberg. Or craft a book proposal with Writing Pad’s Nicky Guerreiro.

However we met. Whatever we learned together. Whatever you inevitably taught me in the process.

I am grateful for it all.

Former Food Service Colleagues

Others of you I’ve worked with in any of my umpteen different jobs here, there, and yonder. From the glory days of Odeon to John Jay Dining Hall. Café St. John, Lou Bruno’s, Palermo Villa, Berrys & Beans, First on First, Annisa, Marco & Pepe, Bistro San Tropez.

It’s a long list, and I’ve made some amazing friends along the way. Both front and back of house. There is a bond formed in restaurants that is like no other. Am I wrong?

Former Writing Colleagues

And then there are those of you I’ve worked with in journalism and PR.

Astronomy, BusinessWeek, Edelman, Clear Admit. These jobs were formative. The people I met and got to work with and learn from along the way? JACKPOT.

There was also no shortage of freelance gigs. Some lasting years. My writing work has connected me with a magical web of people.

Not to mention all the people I met THROUGH writing. Experts and sources, public relations pros, real people living your lives and taking time to stop and tell me about it. So many glimpses I have had into so many worlds.

No wonder my bank account comes nowhere close to reflecting how rich I feel. I learned SO much from all of you.

Some of you I fell in love with. Others of you I adopted. Thanks especially to those who adopted me.

Many of you remain close friends to this day. My life and world are so very rich.  

Online Communities & Friends

Funnily enough, I was too busy with work (in a job creating content for an online community) to get how powerful online communities can be. Until I started leaning into my own.

Today, my online communities are among my very strongest. Which has sure helped since coronavirus hit.

I didn’t need to figure out where to turn for support.

My problem is wanting to be in touch in too many places, with too many people. Because I know they all have incredible things to offer.

A special shout out to communities that have helped me learn about food blogging, money blocks, copy writing, emotional abuse, women entrepreneurs, creative non-fiction, and creating a life and business I love.

This is just a small sample. There are so many others.

I do miss seeing people IRL right now. But I am more connected to more people around the world than ever before. And that is an amazing thing.   

(Not for nothing, my mama first demonstrated the value of online communities to me. My mama, who died in 2000. Talk about being ahead of her time.)

My Team of Helpers

Huge thanks to these folks, without whom my life would not be what it is:

Kayley, my household chief of staff. Who is currently caring for Baby #3 (Zoë), with help from her husband Mau.

James, the artist who cuts and colors my hair. (I’m at least six weeks overdue in seeing James. Only he could give me hair that still has me willing to show up on Zoom.)  

Sonia and team, who do the deep cleaning that makes my home inhabitable. Mientras discutían el feminismo conmigo.

Noor, who keeps the furrowed brow I inherited from my father from setting in permanently. Or tries her best. And shares her recipes.

Maggy, who has agreed to take on a job I wouldn’t trust to anyone else.

Amy and Sharon, who always made us feel like we were right at home at TJ’s.

The amazing teachers and other school personnel who educate my children at their fantastic public elementary school, even from a distance. The amazing teachers who came before them at their fantastic Montessori schools. The other teachers and coaches and specialists who have worked with them on everything from piano to martial arts, swimming to speaking.   

The amazing teachers and others who educated ME at my fantastic public elementary, junior, and senior high schools. At the private institutions where I also got to study.

The incredible women who have helped care for my children over the years—and remained part of our family ever since. And for the kindness, intelligence, courage, and work ethic they modeled.

The therapists, individual and family, who guide me back toward selfcare when I stray. The doctors who keep me in the meds I need while helping get me off the ones I don’t. The pediatric practice that has helped guide me in taking the best care of my children I can. The yoga and pilates instructors who help condition my body for whatever life requires.

The neighbors who make living where we live so nice. By snow-blowing the driveway, helping haul moth-ridden rugs up from the basement, diagnosing swimmer’s ear, ruling out kids’ concussions, letting Zoë come over to play with Neeko, watching over the house when we’re away.

The writers and editors and coaches and other instructors who have worked with me to improve my writing, mindset, and business acumen. (Among other things.) The financial folks I am grateful to have paying attention to my money. Because there are so many other things in my life I’m much more drawn toward. Because I trust their expertise.

My fellow writers. For showing me it can be done. For reminding me how to do it. For encouraging me to do more.  

My fellow moms. Including the ones doing EVERYTHING all by themselves right now. How many times have you held me together when I got close to falling apart? Profound gratitude.  

West Virginia Peeps

Of course, there are my West Virginia peeps. Our beloved next-door neighbors, elementary school teachers and friends, my fellow Red Diaper babies.

Talk about a time that molded me.

I’ll confess to feeling a little weird using this word. It’s not one I use often. But I feel blessed to know all of you.

Each time I recognize how deep these connections are, I’m reminded again of how very far my family extends.

If we haven’t reconnected in recent years, I hope we will soon.  

My Parents’ Friends

There are a LOT of you. I’m guessing I have more octogenarian friends than your average 45-year-old.

Many of you have been opening your hearts and homes to me since before I was born.

More recently, many of you have been digging around in your memories, my basement, your attics—helping me make sense of my past.

Some of you have become grandparents to my children. Trusted confidants. Role models. Mentors. Friends of my own.

I can’t thank you enough.

My Fellow DC Diaspora—and Those Still in Washington

There is a very special place in my heart for DC. There always will be.

Since my dad sold the house on 12^th Street, I haven’t had a place there to call home. That felt sad and compounded other losses. Keeping me away for long stretches at a time.

But as those wounds have healed, my friends have been generous in welcoming me into their homes. So often that their homes have begun to feel like mine.  

I hope to come back soon and frequently. Once the world settles into whatever new normal takes shape.

To my DC peeps—you know who you are—so much of who I am and what I believe gelled in those years. You were a critical part of shaping my view of the world. Thank you.

My Traveling Companions

I’ve had some amazing Lyft and Uber rides in my time. Spent an unforgettable summer living and traveling in the Dominican Republic. Been welcomed into strangers’ homes and lives in Chile, Kenya, England, South Africa, Guatemala, and Barbados. Gifts, every one of these friendships made on the road.

Sometimes, all we shared was a train ride from New York to Philly or seats next to each other at a hotel bar. Along with enough conversation to decide to keep in touch in some fashion.

Thank you to my traveling companions. However much ground we did or didn’t cover together.  

My Fellow New Yorkers

From Morningside Heights to Windsor Terrace, I LOVED my years in that great apple. Even when I moved across the Hudson to New Jersey (?!?!), I spent the bulk of my time in midtown. (I send kisses to friends I made in Edgewater and Jersey City, too!)

It has hurt my heart in profound ways to watch a city I love come under siege a second time. Coronavirus. More than 10,000 New Yorkers have died as I write this, according to recently revised counts.  

Until March 2020, I hadn’t recognized 9/11 as a trauma I experienced personally. Because I was completely focused on people experiencing greater trauma than I did. And distracted by other traumas of my own. Note to self: If you lived in New York on 9/11, you experienced trauma. No matter how much worse anyone else’s was.

In the early days of COVID19, I started feeling a sense of dejavu. Not sure, but I feel like I’ve felt this before. When I recognized I was recognizing things I felt in the aftermath of 9/11, I started calling it a trauma echo.

I’m sending a big dose of love to those of you who were there on 9/11 and are feeling something similar. Even more to those of you in New York now. Experiencing this second devastating wave of trauma. I hope you are finding ways to stay safe and healthy.  

My Milwaukee and Philly Friends

These two cities—and the people I’ve gotten to know living in each—are dear to my heart.

In Milwaukee, I was learning how to live on my own as a young adult. Learning—often through missteps—how to navigate professional life, friendship, romance, finance, a parent’s terminal diagnosis, love, loss. They were intense times and left intense memories. Resulting in intense friendships lasting to this day. Grateful.

In Philadelphia, I was learning how to live as part of a couple, a married couple, a couple with a baby, and then a couple with small children. Also how to scull, coil clay into pots, work at under-funded startups, and make a neighborhood coffee shop my home away from home. The friends I was lucky enough to make in this stretch of my journey—and to share some of those milestones with—oh boy. Here again, a rich full life. Gratitude.

The Brown Clan

As I type this from the Pine Hill porch swing in Montreat, I feel connected to you all in powerful ways. The things this memoir writing process has taught me…

This is a remarkable family. And not only in its dysfunction.

I would not be who I am without the influence you have all played in my life. Even the second cousins twice removed I only ever met that one time at the English reunion in 1986.

Because we all have shaped each other. We have pushed and pulled against family traditions. Repeated or rejected what came before—sometimes both.

Understanding my family—this family—teaches me so much about myself and the world every day.

I would talk to any of you for hours about the things I’ve learned. (If I haven’t already… : )

I genuinely want to learn from you things I don’t yet know.

I thank you all. I give you unfettered access to the Archives—the 47 boxes left behind by my dad telling part of this family’s story. For as long as they remain in my basement. I am committed to finding them a permanent home beyond that. And to digitizing as much as I can. (Any cousins in want of income and willing to spend some hours scanning, please get in touch…!)  

The Few But Mighty Myricks (and Herzburgs)

What we lack in numbers, we make up for in stories.

Leaving castles behind in Wales to head off for who knows what in America. Divorcing, in 1892, with two small children after proving a husband’s gambling addiction in court. Entertaining Houdini in an Upper West Side apartment. Cruising from New York to L.A. through the Panama Canal. Living in the house where the plot to assassinate Lincoln was hatched. Living on the same mew one of the Beatles called home. Telling Manfred Mann where some chopsticks would make “Blinded by the Light” even better.

All through my childhood, I thought my mom had this incredible knack for exaggeration. A flair for the dramatic. I was dismissive of her wild stories, taking much greater comfort in solid facts, precise accounts. More a reporter than a playwright.

Turns out my mom’s facts were plenty solid. Her stories, wild but true.

It takes a wild bunch to live wild stories. I’m so glad we’re related.  

Last but Not Least

I owe my husband an enormous debt of gratitude. For making me mama to my two incredible children.

And I thank my children for making life worth living. For making me a better person every day.

This Website Is for You, All of You

I’ve launched this website because I want to be in touch. Because you have shaped my world in some way, and I am grateful.

If we’re related biologically, there will probably be some content—at least in the Memoir Writing section—that could shed some light on you, too. Read—or don’t read—with caution.

Over time, everything I’ve learned in this process has been healing for me. Though not always when I first learned it. I hope that will be your experience, too.

This is not to say the Memoir Writing section is ONLY for people I’m related to by blood or marriage. I’ll be sharing more general information there, too.

I’m on a quest to convince everyone to write memoir.

Because it can be so healing.

Everything on this site is on this site because it has been healing to me. In launching it and inviting you all to visit, I’m holding myself accountable to my own selfcare practices.

You, dear readers, are going to help keep me on track.

Because I’m still afraid I could be tempted to slip on selfcare. Despite understanding I NEED TO CARE FOR MYSELF if I want to help anyone else.  

Still a work in progress. Both me and the website.

So, here’s my hack until I can get it through my thick head that I need to take care of myself before I can take care of others:

I commit to you that I’m going to show up here and share ways I’ve learned to take care of myself. Because I know I am far more likely to follow through on a commitment to you than to myself.    

And if I show up for you here, talking about the ways I’m taking care of myself, I’ll need to be taking care of myself. Voila!

A sneaky little win-win.

Why do I think it’s a win for you to read about how I’m taking care of myself?

Because I want you to take care of yourself, too.  

Whether it’s coronavirus or 9/11 or divorce or the loss of a parent or a cancer diagnosis or a miscarriage or hurt at the hands of another, I know NO ONE who has lived a trauma-free life.

We have ALL experienced trauma. We will ALL experience more. We are ALL experiencing trauma right now.

I know FAR TOO MANY people who haven’t healed from their trauma(s). Which leaves them hurting themselves or others in ways big and small.

From perfectionism to infidelity to eating disorders to the mad man running our country, all result from unhealed trauma. (I am NOT a psychologist or a psychiatrist and am unqualified to diagnosis anyone else’s mental health, even those I’ve met. But I’ve seen enough unhealed trauma in my time to feel confident in the above statements.)

Let’s ditch the shame and be kinder to ourselves.

The most important step to healing from trauma? Finding compassion for self. Acknowledging the you who experienced the trauma. Understanding and forgiving yourself for the parts that weren’t your fault or within your control. Accepting responsibility and making amends for any parts that were.

It is hard to heal from a wound you think you deserve. (Powerful video here on this.)

We all have wounds we didn’t deserve. Suffering we didn’t ask for. Shame can keep us trapped in behavior that makes us feel ashamed.

As I share practices that have helped me heal from trauma, I’ll sometimes share about the trauma I’m healing from.

Maybe the experiences I describe will remind you of experiences you’ve had. Maybe you’ll see in me things you haven’t been ready to see in yourself. I owe a debt of gratitude to so many writers who have shared their trauma on the page so that I might see my own. “Me too” is a powerful thing to feel.  

WAIT! DON’T LEAVE!

Fear not. My website isn’t designed to leave you feeling worse after you visit.

My goal is not to bring you down with the hard things I’ve gone through. Or to add to the hard things you’ve experienced or are experiencing now.

My goal is to say:

“I see you, fellow human who has suffered or is suffering. Here is what helps me feel better. I hope it helps you feel better, too.”  

Thanks again to every single one of you for being part of my life.

Write Your Own “I’d Like to Thank the Academy” Speech

If you’re up for it, I have a little challenge for you.

I’m inviting you to write your own academy awards speech.

Think through the people who help you shine. Who build you up. Who inspire you to be your best you. The people who taught you and coached you and supported you on your path to where you are right now.

Thank them.

Thank them if you only do it in your own head. Because, let me tell you. It’s feels good to reflect on a community of love and support.

Better yet, thank them IRL. However virtually that might occur right now.

Let them hear your words.

Too often we leave these things unsaid. Because we think we’ll have another chance. Because we’ve failed to take stock of how much we have to be thankful for. Because we’ve slipped into taking things for granted. Because we’re stressed the f*ck out at the state of the world and things can feel hopeless some days.

Which means we could all benefit from saying thank you more. And hearing it.

Thank you again for enriching my life.

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