Are You Brave?

 

LUCY BURDETTE: : it seems like there are a lot of ways we need to have courage these days. But maybe it’s always been so? When it comes to physical bravery, I’m not so great. I suppose I would try to rescue someone if I saw they were drowning in a rough sea, though I think they could do better than me. As far as running into a burning house? It’s not going to happen.

But there are other kinds of bravery, including standing up to bullies. Earlier this winter, I went to an event featuring Amanda Jones in conversation with Judy Blume. Amanda is a librarian in Louisiana who decided it was not OK to ban books in her library. She has become an outspoken critic of book banning, as has Judy. And both of them have suffered from death threats for speaking up about their opinions. In politics, we are watching many people who are afraid to speak up about what’s going on in our country, and I can understand the fear of retaliation. I would like to think I would not fold in these conditions.

So that is the question of the day, Reds. Are you brave? Physically? Mentally?

HALLIE EPHRON: It’s a great question… but I don’t think any of us know what we’re capable of until we’re *in* the situation. I remember when my daughter Molly was maybe two years old and we were at an outdoor party and I wasn’t paying attention and she fell into a hot tub. Believe you me, I raced over there, jumped in, pulled her right out. Scraped my legs in the process and my clothes were soaked, but she was fine. For the rest of the party she kept insisting that she wanted to “Jump in Cuzzi.”

As far as standing up to bullies, that’s a truly scary prospect, and scarier still the more powerful the bully.

JENN McKINLAY: I think I am. I have an intolerance of injustice and a big mouth so I’ve gotten myself into a pickle a time or two. I’m also six feet tall and very active so not much scares me on a physical level. Thankfully, my older brother taught me how to fight. I have no problem facing down a person behaving badly because I dealt with all sorts of folks at the central library in Phoenix for twenty years. Hub has told me repeatedly that he fell in love with me when we were working together at the library and a male patron was having a mantrum, so I marched right over to the guy, got in his face, and said, “Get your sh*t together. Right now.” Honestly, I don’t remember it, but yeah, it tracks.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I am a physically small person, and I’m a pleaser. (Isn’t it interesting how children of the same family can be so different? I can’t imagine that my super type A brother ever worried about people being unhappy with him!) I hate arguing, and will avoid confrontation whenever possible. So no, not brave in that respect. I have, however, done things that completely surprised me. Twice I’ve jumped, fully clothed, into swimming pools after toddlers who’d fallen in, while even the kids' parents stood frozen. I’ve dealt with emergencies on the street when other bystanders wouldn’t. I’ve driven my husband to the hospital when he cut off the end of his finger (including putting the severed finger joint on ice in a plastic bag.) And, after twenty-five years of having German shepherds, I have a surprisingly impressive command voice. So I guess you never know how you’ll react until you do. But I wish I was better at standing up to bullies.

RHYS BOWEN: This is something I have often debated with myself. In high school my daughter was Anne in the Diary of Anne Frank and I used to wonder would I have to courage to hide my Jewish friends in my attic? I certainly would have the courage to speak out, to challenge ICE if I saw them dragging someone off the street. I’ve always had a strong sense of justice (hence Molly Murphy) But if it got to a stage, like Nazi Germany, when normal citizens could disappear for speaking out, would I still be brave? I really don’t know. I’d hope so. I have done a few brave things in my life: when I was up at drama school in London there was a horrible train crash in an awful smog. No buses, no transport, nothing. Of course now I’d check into a hotel for the night but I walked home, 14 miles in dense fog. Got home at 3 am. My parents must have been frantic. (no cellphones in those days)

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Brave. Huh. That’s such a question that’s impossible to answer. I have done brave things–audacious, like asking really hard and unpleasant questions, and risky, out of responsibility as a reporter–carrying hidden cameras into cult churches, going undercover and in disguise  to get to the truth of a story. But is that actually brave?

 

I’ve raced toward tear gas in a hostage situation, but we missed the good video because my photographer had stopped to put a mask over his face. Was I brave or stupid?

 

 I’ve jumped fully clothed into our swimming pool to save little baby Eli, who had, in a flash, decided to leap  in. It never crossed my mind what to do, I don't even remember “deciding.”

 

I’ve handled truly scary  medical emergencies for my husband, but is that brave?

 

These days I think there’s a different definition of brave, and I think we are tested every day.  How valuable is the principle compared to our personal “safety” or risk?

 

Would I run to the ocean to save a person who is in trouble? who would know until the time comes.  

 

Would you put a sign in front of your house declaring your position on anything? 

Is THAT brave?

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Wow, what a thought-provoking question, Lucy. On the one hand, like Debs, I hate confrontation and I almost compulsively try to see everyone's side in a disagreement. On the other hand, one of the great joys of aging is that my GAF index has gone way, way down, so I'm just not bothered if people disapprove of me.

 

I think real bravery can only be revealed in the moment, and I think it requires acting in spite of fear, not because one is actually fearless. The famous picture of the Chinese citizen blocking the row of tanks at Tiananmen Square is an icon of bravery for a reason - that man must have been so scared, but he stood up anyway.

The Magic of Putting Pen to Paper: How Writing Opened My World @JaneBertch

LUCY BURDETTE: Today I’m so pleased to welcome my friend Jane Bertch back to the blog. You may remember that she moved to Paris from Chicago via London and founded the very popular La Cuisine Paris. Then she wrote a wonderful memoir about the project, The French Ingredient, and now she has a new adventure beginning— a podcast, a newsletter, and a series of retreats in Paris focused on creativity. 

JANE BERTCH: There’s something magical about putting pen to paper. And what I’ve found, through my writing journey, is that the simple act of writing can open you to versions of yourself you never even knew existed. 

When I first began writing, it wasn’t with grand ambition—it was during a difficult time when I needed a distraction. I needed to reconnect and speak with myself. To listen to what I needed to say, I started writing, not for anyone else, but for myself. To explore my thoughts. To give shape to feelings that were difficult to name. To test my voice. It was clumsy and frustrating, but at the same time exhilarating. 

That quiet practice of self-connection blossomed into something bigger. I wrote a book. It felt like the boldest thing I’d ever done—exposing my thoughts, my voice, and my vulnerability to the world. But something magical happened: people responded. They didn’t just read—they reached out. They shared their stories. I soon realized that the beauty of human connection is that when I dared to share my story, I quickly recognized it is a shared story—it soon became ‘our’ story. 

Writing gave me more than clarity—it gave me connection and community.

Through the book, I found my community: women, creators, and thinkers who needed to be reminded that at any age, no matter the circumstances, anything is possible. Sharing my voice, as imperfect as it may be, allowed others to share theirs. That connection became so meaningful that I wanted to keep it going. So, I launched a personal newsletter—separate from my business—to continue testing and refining my voice and, most importantly, to nurture and build connections. I found freedom in writing more personally and now relish a space where my vulnerability and curiosity can exist openly, basking in the light of day rather than remaining in the recesses of my mind.

But it didn’t stop there. Writing not only helped me find others—it made me realize I wanted to build a community with them. To create a deeper space for authenticity, which then led me to dream of an entirely new business. One that would be a new chapter of my life – or as I like to say, another petal on my flower.  The idea of GenerateHER retreats was born— a dream to focus on cultivating real community. A place where women can come together and remind themselves of the wonderfully creative and courageous beings they are.

All of this—just from daring to put pen to paper.

So, writing is more than a tool – it’s a key to a new door waiting to be opened. It’s how we meet ourselves, and often, how we meet each other.

So the next time you pick up that pen, just imagine what new, beautiful community you might meet along the way. You might just uncover someone very special amongst them….a new version of you!

You can learn more about Jane here.

About La Cuisine Paris:  

La Cuisine Paris is a French culinary school in the heart of Paris. With a team of classically trained French chefs, we offer cooking classes and food tours in English. We welcome visitors from all over the world with the focus of sharing food and culture.

 

Imagining Wonder: What if…the best things happen? by Barbara O'Neal

LUCY BURDETTE: you’ve heard me say that one of my favorite writers is Barbara O’Neal. I’m reading her latest, Memories of the Lost, and trying to make it last longer so I don’t feel the sadness of it ending. I follow her sub stack and really loved a recent post, which she agreed to share with us. Welcome Barbara!

BARBARA O'NEAL: My sister, a lifelong nurse, visited me last week. We were talking about aging in general, and our mother in particular.  I made an off-hand comment that I supposed everyone gets frail in their 90s. 

My sister said, most emphatically, that that wasn’t true at all. She sees lots of very aged people in her work, and sees a lot of 90-somethings who are quite vigorous, who live their lives the same way they always have, doing things, traveling, having adventures. 

I blinked. A huge sense of…potential bloomed in my body.  Expansion. 

In that instant, I realized that the idea of looming frailty has weighing on me in the weirdest ways.  My mother is in her early 80s, but she’s suddenly facing frailty from a dozen directions. I guess my mind was casting me into that 80-year-old frail role, too.  My cats are getting older and I think about what it would be like to get new kittens, and then my brain says, but you’re getting up there, and who will take care of the cats if something happens to you? 

I worry about how long we’ll get to stay in this beautiful home by the beach, and if the medical care will chase us back to a city. I wonder how long I’ll be able to do the vigorous travel I love so much. 

All of this has very much in the back of my mind, not anywhere in view, but until we had this conversation, I had not realized how much I’ve been imagining myself frail at 80. While it’s fine to be practical and make arrangements for alternative outcomes (and I think it’s smart to do that), I don’t want to live in that space of vague dread. 

None of us know when something might befall us—an accident or a random disease or whatever—but in our 30s and 40s, we don’t keep looking up at the scythe hanging over our heads. We just go about our lives, make plans, looking forward to things we anticipate doing. 

I want to return to that sense of spaciousness, claim it, as my sister-in-law used to say. I claim a vigorous old age. I am visualizing lots more time to raise kittens, travel, explore long walks on my beach and around the world.  

My sister said that people who stay active stay strong. Which we already know, but it was a great reminder. I can focus on more exercise, less extra weight, more activity, tons of great nutrition. I’m going to start looking for examples of vigorous older people and focus on them. There are many in my community. My neighbor is almost 78 and she’s planning a hike on the Coast to Coast walk in England. 

I’m just going to live without looking up at that scythe and imagine a great future. What if I’m still writing a book every (other) year, traveling with my husband, enjoying my many grandchildren on active vacations in my 90s? What if, like Esther Hicks says, I thrive, thrive, thrive, croak?

Does aging weigh on you? If you allowed yourself a sense of wonder, what might you see? 

Barbara O’Neal is the author of many titles of women’s fiction, including When We Believed in Mermaids and the forthcoming The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth. She writes regularly on Substack and lurks heavily on TikTok.