When I was in the fifth grade, I got invited to my first boy/girl party. It was at Selena Coleman’s house, and while I liked her, I did not want to go to her party. I was a recluse, a loner, never happier than when I was at home on my bed, pondering my lack of friendships.
“No thanks,” I told Selena. “Parties just aren’t my thing.”
Fast-forward 40 years. This past March I received an invitation to be a panelist at Keystone College’s literature conference, The Gathering. The invitation was from my friend Suzanne Fisher Staples, writer-in-residence. The title of the conference is, “Believing, Unbelieving and the Moral Compass.” Arsalan Iftikhar, who is a National Public Radio commentator, and Whitney Stewart, a Buddhist and author of several books for young adults, and I would be discussing how our spiritual beliefs – or lack thereof – influence our writing. Would I do it, Suzanne wanted to know?
What could I say? Tremendous opportunities just aren’t my thing?
I haven’t slept through the night since I accepted the invitation. On the bright side, I have kept a number of people – most notably my therapist, my life coach and my writing teacher – busy trying to help me manage a mountain of panic, exhilaration and horror, all centered on the momentous hour and a half in July when I will be called upon to speak intelligently about my Jewishness and writing and how the two meet up in me.