There were three moments during my Blogher weekend that made my heart hurt.
One, Birdie told a crowded room how, when she was a girl she had to write a story about a cockroach as a punishment at school. The pleasure she got out of writing that story was immense and delighted with her work, she went home and told her father she wanted to be a writer. Her father folded down the newspaper he was reading, looked at Birdie and said, “Don’t be a writer. You’ll never make it.” And Birdie didn’t write again until 25 years later.
I think every writer has experienced rejection; it’s that which comes from closest to our hearts that stops our pens or our fingers. I’m glad Birdie found her way back to words.
Two, Elizabeth Edwards told the room of 800 bloggers about a woman who she met on the campaign trail. The woman whispered to her about the lump she’d found in her breast. She had no insurance; no money. This woman, said Edwards, would die.
Three, later that night I called a friend of mine. I’ve written of M., my friend who is living with metastatic cancer. Her cancer began as breast cancer and now, five years of treatment later, her employer is strongly encouraging her to quit. Her job performance is stellar; she works more than the required hours. She needs the insurance. I mean, NEEDS it. Without treatment, like anyone with progressing cancer, she will die. I find it incredible her employer is comfortable having that reality ahead of them. If they force her out it will be akin to killing her. Hearing how hurt she is by the treatment she’s getting from her trusted employer, my heart hurt even more.
I think the state of healthcare for people in the U.S. – not just poor people but hardworking middle class people, too — is a national tragedy. I don’t get political in this space, but the healthcare issue sometimes hits way too close to home.
Here’s my celebrity moment caught by photographer, social media expert and friend 
