Rachel Simon's Blog

Last week, I had a magical trip to Orlando.  Yes, I was in Disneyworld, but I was not there for vacation.

The main reason I went to Orlando was to do a presentation at the National Council for Community Behavior Healthcare Conference.  Since we still had snow on the ground in Delaware and the temperature in Orlando was seventy degrees, I was particularly happy to go.

My host was Core Solutions, a software company for the behavioral health and human services industries.  I appeared for a special event in their hospitality suite, where I showed clips from the movie adapted from Riding The Bus With My Sister, talked about the real experience I wrote about in that book, and signed complimentary copies of my book.  The attendees included the parent of a woman with disabilities and a self-advocate, both of whom shared their own stories.  As often happens at these events, I laughed and I cried, and I came away deeply moved.

But there was an additional reason for why my trip was more than just memorable – it was magical.

For the past several months, I’ve been corresponding with one of my readers, Lily Grinsberg.  The mother of three sons, two of whom have disabilities, Lily is devoted to exploring all avenues to help her children.  She also wants to share her insights, so she runs programs where she talks with guests about her recent discoveries.  (You can read more about her on her Double Rainbow website.)  As luck would have it, when I went to this conference, she happened to be in Orlando with her family for a vacation – the twenty-eighth one they’ve taken to Disneyworld!  We arranged to visit.

We met in her hotel lobby, falling into a big hug as if we were old friends – which, because she knows me through my books, and I know her through her life mission, we pretty much are.  After so many emails, I finally got the chance to hear her story in person, and to learn about the many fascinating things she’s involved with.  These include Nordorff Robbins Music Therapy, a music therapy that nurtures people of all levels of ability to build well-being; Camp Acorn, a recreational program that builds confidence and self-esteem in children and adults with multiple disabilities; and Radiant Awareness, a form of therapy that inspires joyful awakenings and inner connection.  All of them look terrific.  (For contact information about Nordorff Robbins, see the comments for this post.)

Then we went to dinner, and I got to meet her whole family.  The love in this family is a sight to behold.  The father spontaneously hugs his sons.  The typical son shares a close bond with his brothers.  And everyone is close to the personal assistant for the oldest son.

Here’s a photo of Lily’s son, meeting up with Donald Duck, followed by a photo of Lily and me.

How quickly a duck can interrupt your meal

A magical meeting in Disneyworld

People often ask what my life is like.

The honest answer is it’s lacking in drama and steeped in routine, both of which help me stay on track with my writing.  I know that the image of a tranquil life with a lot of consistency is at odds with the myth of the emotionally overwrought writer who lives to excess and hobnobs with celebrities.  But I like telling the truth, so here are a few broad strokes to give you a sense of my life.

Rachel Simon at Longwood Gardens

I live in a row house in Delaware with my husband Hal and our two cats, Peach and Zeebee.  Our marriage, which came about after a nineteen-year courtship I chronicled in my memoirs, is a happy and enriching one.  We laugh a lot, prop each other up when we feel low, and give each other a lot of privacy for our respective creative endeavors.  When we disagree, we try to do so in a respectful and productive manner.

I make my own schedule, since I don’t have a day job right now.  I get up with the sun, write as much as I can, and do my best to keep up with emails, letters, and phone calls.

Every day I try to work out, and once a week I volunteer for hospice.

I treasure long-term relationships.  I’m still close to my best friends from nursery school, fifth grade, sixth grade, junior high, boarding school, college, and many of the jobs and twists in my life since then.  I’m also close to a number of people I’ve met in my trips to give talks related to my memoir Riding The Bus With My Sister.

I don’t drink, use substances, eat meat, watch TV, or feel comfortable in loud spaces, including stores and restaurants where music is played at high volume.

To stick with my writing routine, I prefer meeting people in the evenings rather than at lunch.  To be kind to both my waistline and wallet, I prefer visits over tea rather than dinners.

I like almost everyone I’ve ever met.  I find every person interesting.

I like to talk but I love to listen.

I wake up a lot in the middle of the night and worry.   Then I fall back asleep, and in the morning, I wake up happy.

Most days, I’m very content with my life.  I’m less content about the state of the world.

I walk around with a cast of characters in my head: everyone I’ve known in person, and many others who are entirely fictional and have yet to emerge from my pen.

I write by hand.

I write because I enjoy the act of writing.  I finish my writing projects because life is brief.

I don’t see much of a division between past and present, and can wake up fully immersed in other time periods I’ve lived in.

I’m slightly synesthesic.  Numbers and letters come to me as colors.  Sounds come as emotions.

I’m five feet tall and feel that the benefits of my short stature eclipse the difficulties.

I get cold all the time.  At home I sometimes wear a coat in the house, and when I go out I almost always bring several extra layers of clothes.

I’m not a joiner.  I like living outside life.  Though sometimes when I feel too outside, I get sad.

I try to be open-minded and openhearted.

I believe in the power of forgiveness and the pointlessness of holding grudges.

I believe in the inherent dignity and worth of every human being.