EVENTS FOR FALL 2026

I realize I've missed posting about some of my events earlier this year, but here are a few places you can find me this fall.

Desert Sleuths has a virtual conference and I'm moderating a panel on Sept. 19 on Criminology and writing. 

 

I'm In Conversation with Peter Swanson at the Ipswich Country Club on October 8. It's open to the public and registration is encouraged.

 

Crime Bake is November 6-9. Three days of craft. I'm not sure where else you could go to a conference and get three days of panels plus hotel for less than 1K. Sarah! Hubby and Son can prowl Boston while you sharpen your prose. You don't have to be writing crime to get a lot out of this. And Beth? It's in your backyard!

 

Then, on November 14, I'm in Rye with Edith Maxwell for a fundraiser. P.E.O. (Philanthropic Educational Organization) Chapter R-NH is part of a larger not for profit international organization providing scholarships, loans, and grants to women’s education. Info on the organization is here: peointernational.org 
It will be held at the Rye Congregational Church, Rye, NH.  From 11:00 to 1:30.

 

Oh, and October has me at Bouchercon in Calgary (panels and launch) then Banff then Lake Louise then....Well, you get the idea.

 

REDISCOVERING TERRIFIC REVIEWS

I'm luxuriating in a benefit small, independent publishers can offer: I'm updating the content and covers of my trilogy.

When I talk with friends who have had the privilege of being published by a large press, they are certainly thrilled at their success, but cringe at what's Out There in their name. One remarked that they felt like they were reading a first draft. Their writing chops had strengthened over the years, and although they still love their story and characters, they would love to revisit their writing and update how they unfolded their tale.

I really dug into my books, and a few surprises awaited me!

The Charity was my first endeavor in writing fiction and the first of The Jessica Trilogy. I had written pieces for Bloomberg BusinessWeek, Nature, and other outlets, and knew how to weave a narrative. But revisiting Charity, I realized how much I had grown as a writer. I have a lot more confidence in my abilities and in my readers. I was able to condense passages and add brush strokes of detail that made my story shine. Today's readers want their story to come at them at a faster clip, and I was happy to oblige them.

Readers of my first book asked me what happened to the characters. I had the answers, and their questions drove me to write The Troubles. 

I realized (huffs nails) that I had a pretty darn good story on my hands.

Even as I was renewing my writing, I noticed more five-star ratings on Goodreads. I guess that what irked me as an author didn't bother my readers at all!

I rediscovered reviews, too. One review in Horse Nation really took me by surprise as I'm not sure I ever saw it. It was published the same day my father died, so I forgive myself for not bird-dogging the blogs and reviews. It was for The Wake, the final installment of the trilogy. How could I not have remembered a review with the headline "A Thrilling Adventure, A Literary Bombshell."

I mean, COME ON!!

So, yeah. I'm super thrilled with this refreshed trilogy.

I think you will be, too.

The Author Ladder: Triumphs, Rejections, and the Real Climb to Publication

On my journey up the Author Ladder, I'm often asked about triumphs and mistakes, swings and misses.

The Author Ladder? 

Image by Pheladii of Pixabay

Yup. From the idea that pushes against the sides of your skull until you finally let it escape to the page, to the lofty heights of best-seller lists and movie deals, every accomplishment, no matter how small, is another rung upward. 

The trouble with that ladder is the very top can feel impossibly far away, shrouded in mist. Sometimes the rungs are so close together you hardly feel your progress. Other times the upward stretch feels too far, too hard to reach.

And then there are those slippery rungs that crash you back to earth.

So, when I'm asked about triumphs, I hesitate. Inside, I feel like I'm on a kitchen step stool and having a hard time managing even that. 

Then I take stock of my journey. I realize I am farther along than I thought and having a lot of fun along the way. I feel the progress in the questions people ask me, the outreach I get, the way others see what I sometimes can't see in myself.

I've been the invited moderator of literary festivals and conferences. I've interviewed NYT best-selling authors for fundraisers and major events. My books have received glowing reviews--maybe not from People Magazine or Publishers Weekly, but from respected publications that target a large segment of my readers. My stories appear in Anthony Award-winning anthologies, and my novels have won industry respect.

A recent guest appearance on a popular author blog has been getting a lot of attention, too. And I'm always thrilled when an emerging writer, someone with an idea buzzing in their head, asks me to take a look at their first chapters. 

I have a new novel on submission with publishers now. The rejections make gripping those rungs just a little harder, but they also let me know I'm on the right track. 

SERIOUSLY? LONG TIME, NO SEE

I was kinda shocked to see I haven't posted in over a year. 

Hiking in NH with a buddy

What's wrong with me? Am I okay? What's taken me so long?

Yes, I'm okay, and I'm just a human. And as far as what's taken me away from blogging?

I have no single answer for that.

I've not marked the moments of my Writing Life more frequently because, well, Life Life was a bit much at times.

To summarize in no particular order since my last post:

WRITING LIFE:

• I moderated two crime and mystery panels at the Newburyport Literary Festival,
• Two short stories were published,
• I have a novel on submissions with my agent,
• I interviewed a famous author for a fundraising event,
• I continue to be on the New England Crime Bake conference committee,
• I enjoyed getting tipsy with my writer peeps at said conference,
• Oh, and moderated a panel at the same,
• I have a major case of agent angst,
• I interviewed a lovely cozy author for her umpteenth book launch,
• I enjoyed participating in various author/book events,
• I've received many wonderful, detailed, heartfelt rejections from very big publishers,
• I contributed to a play about caregivers,
• Oh, and my author Facebook page mysteriously and completely disappeared,
• And I have no idea how or why I pissed off Zuckerberg,

LIFE LIFE:

• My mom passed away,
• My oldest son moved to Brazil,
• Said son married a lovely woman
• I realized learning Portuguese may be in my future,
• Daughter got engaged to a man we adore,
• When middle son says, "You won't have to care for the cat. It belongs to all the roommates," he doesn't mean it,
• I love hiking in VT and NH mountains and the seashores in MA,
• My garage is way, way too full of stuff I can't politely name,
• My husband grew to really love that ornery cat,
• I learned estate battles are ugly and have weirdly unhealthy histories,
• I have incredibly wonderful friends,
• And an amazing husband,
• I am slowly rekindling my socials. 

I may add or delete some posts, but it's just life in all of its glory. 

Overall, I'm good.

And I hope you are, too.

WHEN A LITTLE MEANS A LOT

 

It has been a while since I indulged in some arts and crafts but I finally found a worthy project*. Judging by the signs I've been seeing at recent marches and rallies, I'm not alone. Parents across the country are raiding their kids' construction paper and markers. Crayons too.

And many are putting those Amazon boxes to good use, too.

As a writer, I'm fortunate to have my time be my own, yet I want to make my limited time count. But I'm just one person---a speck in a very large world. In today's cyclone of news, how can I make a difference? How can I make my voice heard?

Is being a drop in the bucket a bad thing?

An Aesop Fable tells of a thirsty crow who dropped pebbles into a bucket to raise the level of the water. The twist here is that this is rooted in fact. Take a look at this video of a crow doing just that.

I get emotional at the marches and rallies I've gone to as each has evidenced an All Hands on Deck urgency. Save Our Medicare signs were carried by folks with gray hair. Ukranian flags were waved by young and old next to the Stars and Stripes. I've seen mothers bring their young children. A baby in a stroller held a sign that read, "Nine Months Old and Already Sick of this Shit." A boy in a Harry Potter scarf declared himself "Part of Dumbledor's Army Against Trump." 

Each person was a drop in the bucket. Each raised the level of awareness and each strengthened a building wall of resistance. The signs spanned a spectrum of issues. USAID. Veterans. Education.

It's a bit ironic that one truth out of all of this is that the man in office is turning into the "Unifier in Chief" as he once declared himself. I doubt he envisioned just how he's bringing people together.

I get emotional at these rallies because there is so much at stake. Hundreds of people attended a town hall for our US representative and hundreds more were turned away as the auditorium had reached capacity and overflowed.

And that's the thing about drops in the bucket. 

*Oh, and it's a writer's thing to know that punctuation matters. It's amazing the meanings a tiny apostrophe can give.

NEWBURYPORT LITERARY FESTIVAL 2025

 

I'm thrilled to be moderating a panel of prolific and distinguished mystery authors. Join me for a lively dishing of insider dirt. Learn about inspiration and process and their favorite ways to kill people and hide a body...all on the page of course!

The Newburyport Literary Festival is celebrating its 20th anniversary with three days filled with established and emerging authors. Specific sessions, venues and times can be found on their website.

DATE: APRIL 25-27, 2025

PLACE: NEWBURYPORT, MASSACHUSETTS 

WEBSITE: Newburyport Literary Festival

YOU ARE NOT ALONE

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

I’m not a big joiner. If I see a crowd of people heading in one direction, my inclination is to head in the other. On social media, I’m more of a lurker. If I do post, I lean toward the positive and humorous. Supporting my author friends is important to me, too. The last thing I ever want to do is to add to the noise or the fear-mongering. We get enough of that without my two cents.

This past week something changed. I recall a line in the movie, NETWORK. You know the one. “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.” Yeah. I felt kinda like that.

I needed to *do* something. For me, screaming into the void hardly helps for longer than it takes the post to load and that’s not very long.

So, I did a couple of things. The first was to find an easy way to call my representatives. Hunting around for phone numbers or trying to craft a succinct statement or voicemail was going to take more time than I had. Plus, what is one measly phone call going to do?

I found a website and app called 5calls.org. It does the work for you by summarizing the issues, providing talking points, and listing your reps and phone numbers by zip code. Don’t see your pet issue? It’s still helpful to find your reps.

It takes a little over five minutes to make my three calls to my two senators and one rep. I’ve mostly left voicemails but spoke to staffers a few of times too. Shy? Call after-hours to ensure you’ll get into voicemail. Your call still counts!

I still needed to do more than phone calls. I live close to my state’s capital and saw a nationwide call to march to your statehouse. I had gone to a handful marches in the past and wanted to be a part of whatever else was happening. The marches were to bring attention to the opposition to Project 2025. When? On 2/5/25 of course!

The first thing I noticed was that information was fragmented. There was no clear direction of who was organizing or where and when to meet. Many posts talked about “false flag” or other misinformation to discourage going. There are people smarter than I am about these things, so I won’t comment, but the logic was off. It felt like an organization that didn’t want a large showing of support was posting for a march that wasn’t going to happen? Several friends urged me to be careful, but I went anyway.

And I’m glad I did.

First and foremost, democracy is about the support of the people. (I know, DUH!) And this means visible and quantifiable support. Maya Miller of the New York Times reported today that the congressional phone system has been jammed with tens of millions of calls from outraged constituents contacting their representatives. Alaska Senator Lisa Murkowsky said the number of calls received by the senate jumped from 40 to over 1600 per minute! And showing up at your reps office counts, too, as well as marches at your statehouse. Even holding a sign on your town common can make support visible.

 

And when support is visible, it’s harder for politicians to hide when they try to push through unpopular actions.

Yes, Wednesday’s marches were disorganized. In large part I believe this was because of the short notice from idea to delivery, but the two groups – one through 50501 and the other through Indivisible.org – found each other and the crowd grew to thousands. The mood of the crowd was decidedly “game on.” It felt to me that the people there were committed to being heard and knowing that the march was likely to be the first of many.

It was emotional. Some people covered their faces completely. Perhaps they did so from the cold, but perhaps they did so out of concern for future reprisals. Expressions of fear and determination creased the faces of the people I could see. The signs ranged from the typical pithy and funny to heartbreaking. By far, most were homemade with whatever tape, cardboard, glue, markers, and whatever else folks could find in the back of their closets or pilfered from their kids.

I poked my head up from my lurking and posted, emailed, and chatted about suggested actions. One author said, “We are the drops in the bucket. That usually implies an action is insignificant, but here each drop helps fill the void.”

Find what works for you and do it.

Your voice matters.

NOIR AT THE BAR!

We all need a great escape into the crackling world of fiction. What better way than to join some of New England's best crime writers for an evening of noir? Each author will read a short piece and the night will guarantee your head will be filled with morally ambiguous characters in dark places. (Hmm. Come to think of it, maybe this sounds too much like our news feed.) Either way, come! Have a cocktail and some delicious food and discover your new favorite author.

When:

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20
DOORS OPEN AT 6:00 PM
READINGS START AT 7:00
(Oh, and I'm first up, so don't be late!)

Cafe Avellino's owners are terrific supporters of the local art scene and hosting a night of authors will create a cherished and memorable event.
CAFE AVELLINO
242 HUMPHREY STREET
SWAMPSCOTT, MA
(Venmo or Cash Only)

 

Making a Mystery With a Little Help From My Friends

Author events can take a lot of shapes. They can be a solo presentation or talk, a one-on-one interview, or a panel discussion on any number of topics. One of my favorites is Mystery Making put on by the New England chapter of Sisters in Crime.

The Mystery Making events I participate in are panels comprised of authors who write different genres of crime fiction. When the audience arrives, we ask them to give us character names, motives, weapons, settings, and occupations. From their ideas, the authors then create a new story on the fly. Think of it as jazz improv for the literary set.

It's fun for the audience to see where their ideas take us and it's fun for the authors to riff with our friends.

At a recent event in Manchester Vermont, we received the following ideas:

Settings: Vermont, dairy farm, Dunkin Donuts

Names: Mammie, Matilda, Anna Belle, Ronald, Llewan, Dr. Horatio Cornbliss

Weapons: dictionary, rake, snake venom, plunger

Motive: Cold coffee

Occupation: Poet, dog walker, farmer

We brainstormed, laughed, and decided what occupations folks had and who killed who and why. Then we put our prompt into Co-Pilot, an AI tool. Our story was a bit different. The biggest difference? We did not see that particular use of the plunger!

Here's the prompt we created:

Compose a log line and a short murder mystery story involving the following: 1) Characters: Anna Belle - a poet; Llewan - a Dunkin Donuts manager who makes weak coffee; Matilda the dog walker; Dr. Horatio Cornbliss who owns a pet Chihuahua; married couple Mammie (a volunteer and amateur sleuth) & Ronald (a professional farmer) who are joint owners of a dairy farm 2) Murder Weapon: can be either a dictionary, plunger, snake venom or rake 3) Setting: a Vermont dairy farm near a Dunkin Donuts 4) Motive: cold coffee. Include a one-sentence log line. Include a red herring in the story.

Sent by Copilot:

And here is what we received:

Log Line

When a Dunkin Donuts manager is found dead on a Vermont dairy farm, a volunteer sleuth and her farmer husband must unravel a web of deceit, where the motive is as simple as a cup of cold coffee.

Story

On a crisp autumn morning in Vermont, the tranquility of Mammie and Ronald’s dairy farm was shattered by a chilling discovery. Llewan, the Dunkin Donuts manager known for his notoriously weak coffee, lay lifeless near the barn, a dictionary clutched in his hand. The cause of death? Snake venom.

Mammie, an avid volunteer and amateur sleuth, couldn’t resist the call of a mystery. With Ronald by her side, she began to piece together the events leading to Llewan’s demise. The farm, conveniently located near the Dunkin Donuts, had seen a steady stream of visitors, including Anna Belle, a local poet who often complained about the coffee, and Matilda, the dog walker who had a peculiar habit of carrying a plunger.

Dr. Horatio Cornbliss, the eccentric veterinarian with a pet Chihuahua, was also a frequent visitor. His expertise with animals made him a prime suspect, especially since snake venom was involved. However, his alibi was solid—he had been at a veterinary conference the night of the murder.

As Mammie delved deeper, she discovered that Anna Belle had a motive. Her poetry readings at Dunkin Donuts had been ruined by Llewan’s weak coffee, driving away her audience. But Anna Belle had an airtight alibi; she was performing at a local library at the time of the murder.

The red herring came in the form of Matilda, the dog walker. Her odd behavior and the plunger she always carried made her seem suspicious. However, it turned out she used the plunger to retrieve tennis balls from the lake for the dogs she walked.

The breakthrough came when Mammie found a hidden stash of snake venom in the barn. It led her to Ronald, who had been secretly experimenting with natural pest control methods. Ronald confessed that he had accidentally spilled the venom on the dictionary Llewan had been reading, not realizing the deadly consequences.

In the end, it was a tragic accident, but the motive behind the investigation remained clear: a simple cup of cold coffee had set off a chain of events that led to an unexpected and fatal conclusion.

Smiles Don't Fade.

Years slip away fast, but the smiles don't fade. My <cough cough> reunion at Vermont Law and Graduate School was wonderful.

 

Another day. Another Story.

 

I'm thrilled to announce that my short story, "Obscura Eclipse," has been selected to appear on the page alongside these other fine crime writers.

Thank you, Crime Spell Books, for another opportunity to have some fun and create a bit of mayhem!

OUTING THE FOG

 Sometimes you just need a little boost to get a clear signal.

My brain has been a lot like this picture; an antenna, encrusted in signal-blurring ice, frozen by elements beyond my control, engulfed in mists that shape-shift familiar landmarks into hunched and hidden versions of themselves. 

The don't-get-up-from-that-chair-until-you-hit-one-thousand-words goal doesn't apply. I'm still writing like a fiend but with real-life stuff. It's my fiction writing that's taking the hit. The problem is that I really want to be making stuff up and writing it down. I don't want to be consumed with the issues numbing me. But life can get complicated. It's an iceberg/Titanic kind of thing. My writing life was sailing along until crunch! Creativity sank but life's damned iceberg continued on its merry way.

That iceberg took a long time to form. Family dynamics chilled relationships well beyond cold shoulders and icy stares. The deceptive slick of lies like black ice made normal conversations almost deadly. 

You may think you've never heard writer's block described like this before. My writing isn't blocked as much as it has taken on a different shape like the trees in the picture. I want to make up characters and create the bad things that happen to them. Crystallized in that block of ice are good people frozen in fear because of the wrong turns made when familiar landmarks gave way to the weight of the cold.

So, I'm journaling and writing down events and thoughts because I know I'm at a point of transition. I'm at a point where the mist is lifting, more with the promise of sunlight than a break in the clouds.

The signal is getting stronger as the air warms. I'm no longer frozen into inaction. I've enjoyed the stillness of my artic world, but life didn't flourish.

[BTW: That picture? I took it with my cell phone at the summit of Mount Sunapee. It's full color, no filters, and I related to it way too much.]

EVEN MY KIDS LEARNED SOMETHING

Interviews and podcasts are part of the deal in being a writer. We often say we write for ourselves but it sure is nice to get our words out into the world, and being an invited guest on a blog, CCTV, or podcast is always an honor and a great way to expand our reach into new audiences. 

Each host has a theme or a vibe they adhere to. I've done interviews that focus on my experience as an equestrian, fiction author, journalist, or social connector. I enjoy learning what the host found interesting in my background for their readers/viewers/listeners. As fun as these interviews are, I always feel they are incomplete, there was more to my story. I wondered if anyone could get a complete picture of me as a person and as a writer.

Enter Candy O'Terry's podcast, "The Story Behind Her Success." Candy is a Boston radio icon and has interviewed over 1000 women including Mariah Carey, Crystal Gayle, Erin Brockovich, Valerie Harper, and so many more incredible, amazing, fantastic women. Candy does what so many interviewers don't; she delves into the alchemy of nature and nurture that made these women who they are.

I confess, I never thought of myself as a "renaissance woman." 

On a car trip with my son over the holidays, we listened to this interview together. Candy asked me about growing up on a dairy farm, law school, my career in banking, writing for BusinessWeek, and so much more. Afterwards, he looked at me with pride. "I never knew all that about you." 

I had to wonder how that could be so. I've never exactly kept my life a secret from my family!

Anyway, take a listen to my conversation with Candy here.

IT NEVER GETS OLD

It never gets old to see my name under the "Best New England Crime Stories" banner. This year, my short story "Wooden Spirits" appears beside other award-winning authors.

Wolfsbane: Best New England Crime Stories 2023 once again brings together many of the best writers in the genre in our region. These 21 stories cover the full range of crime fiction, from the traditional amateur sleuth to the cop in the world of self-driving cars and AI bots running your home. The award-winning authors take us to the streets of Boston where drug dealers congregate and yet show us the true character of some of those on the mean streets. A decent man goes undercover and learns a few lessons the hard way, and a lawyer faces his own hard reality. Every story brings new insight and fresh perspective to the world of crime, the criminals, and the victims caught among them.

Read the work of these award-winning writers: Jason Allison, Christine Bagley, Brenda Buchanan, Christine H. Chen, Bruce Robert Coffin, Michael Ditchfield, Judith Green, Connie Johnson Hambley, Sean Harding, Eleanor Ingbretson, Zakariah Johnson, Paula Messina, Susan Oleksiw, Robin Hazard Ray, Ray Salemi, Lauren Sheridan, Bonnie Spring, Gabriela Stiteler, Frances Stratford, Leslie Wheeler, Carolyn Marie Wilkins

AND THE WINNER IS...CRIME HITS HOME!

I am absolutely rejoicing! 

I've written about the launch of this anthology and of my excitement that my short story, CURRENTS, is included beside crime-writing greats like Walter Mosely, Sara Paretsky, Naomi Hirahara, Gabino Iglesias, and more. There is even more terrific news that I need to share with you!

CRIME HITS HOME has won the coveted Anthony Award for Best Anthology!

My grandfather once said, "Show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are." If that saying holds true, then the great company I'm in means I write darned good stories.

CURRENTS unfolds what happens when two assassins are stranded on a deserted island. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

In fact, Michael J. McCann, award-winning novelist and reviewer for the New York Journal of Books wrote a terrific review of the whole anthology and gave me an amazing shoutout!

Check it out:

Our survey of editor Rozan’s spread wouldn’t be complete without mentioning “Currents” by Connie Johnson Hambley. The atmospheric and entertaining story of two assassins facing off against each other on a desert island in the Pacific, it’s an example of how an anthology like this one can bring our attention to an author whose fiction will bear closer examination in the future.

A columnist for Bloomberg BusinessWeek, Hambley has also independently published three thrillers in her Jessica Trilogy, including The Charity (2012), The Troubles (2015), and The Wake (2017). Her contribution to this anthology casts light on her current work, as it were, and encourages us to keep an eye out for what might be coming next.

So, Yeah! I'm kinda chuffed today! 💞💞💞💞

SEEING THE UNSEEABLE: UNHOMED ELDERS

 

I was surprised to see a woman slumped behind the wheel of the car. My regular walk takes me down a dirt road to a wildlife sanctuary overlooking vast stretches of marsh not far from where this photo was taken. It’s a beautiful, out-of-the-way spot where I’ve discovered artists capturing angled light during the Golden Hour, bird watchers, and dog walkers. It’s a wonderful place to soothe yourself in quiet and privacy.

Finding a car parked there wasn’t unusual. Finding a motionless older woman was.

The small, late-model SUV had out-of-state plates and was chock full of clothes and boxes holding papers, pictures, and other seemingly cherished items. I approached slowly and absorbed whatever details I could. The passenger seat had stacks of food in various states of consumption. Clothes—good quality ones with designer names I recognized—hung on a rod suspended over the back seat. Heavy winter coats hung next to summery blouses. The woman’s gray chin-length hair was held back with a neat headband. She had a thick cardigan pulled up over her shoulders.

Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm of sound sleep.

I relaxed. All these details created a picture for me. Here was an older woman taking a road trip by herself and stopped in a gorgeous place to have a power nap before finding another adventure on the road.

I have to say, I was kind of jealous of my conjured image. She fought the stereotype of the older woman who barely leaves home alone. I imagined a healthy woman doing something fun. She looked to have the means to grab whatever gusto life has to offer. I didn’t feel a need to tap on her window to disturb her nap with nosey questions or to call the police to check on her wellbeing. The power of MYOB was strong. I convinced myself that she was fine.

But why was her car filled to the brim? Why did she have so much food with her? Why pack household goods for a road trip? Why was she so exhausted in the middle of the day?

I didn’t think much about these questions until another woman on the same road made the local papers. Police came across the woman in the same spot. They asked if she needed help. She responded she was fine, that she was on her way home, and had taken a wrong turn. A wrong turn that veered off a well-marked and paved street and went over a mile down a bumpy dirt road.

This time, it wasn’t a sunny afternoon. It was midnight. And cold. It seems the police were concerned enough about her “wrong turn” excuse to relay her information to the next town’s police. Her home, the woman said, was just a few towns away. They followed her to the town line, no doubt feeling that helping her was as big an event they would have in their sleepy community that night.

An hour later she was found dead in her burning car on the other side of town. An investigation quickly discovered that she no longer lived at the address she had given. In fact, she no longer lived anywhere.

A pit formed in my stomach. I didn’t see these women as being unrelated to the other. I saw them as horrible examples of a growing, yet invisible, epidemic.

Another woman bravely tried to give voice to what I was seeing. She had become homeless because she could no longer afford her home. She packed everything she owned into her car and posted videos of what it was like to be an older person without money or support. Resourceful, she found safe places to sleep in her car. She recorded what cemeteries had working spigots where she could get water and somewhat bathe. She talked about the struggles that brought her to homelessness and the struggles to get out of it.

In my cluster of coastal towns, images of the perfect life fill the landscape. It was these images that blinded me to what the reality most likely was for the first woman I saw. We are blinded by our bias that homelessness is not supposed to happen to our older adults. We default to ideals. Families step up. Neighbors help neighbors. Communities have resources to swoop in and prevent a life’s worth of memories from filling a shoebox stored in the trunk of a car. I have learned that in my rural oasis, over eighty older adults, men and women, are at risk of or have lost their home because of financial fraud.

It is a number that staggered me.

There is a profound amount of shame that prevents awareness of this increasing problem. Shame stems from a variety of reasons and is most potent when partnered with denial. The older adults feel shame because they weren’t strong enough to hold on to the brass ring of the American Dream and it slipped from their grasp. Or they trusted the wrong person and was conned out of their money. Or their child was too needy and took without asking. Or they were too frail or afraid to say no. Or they didn’t see the theft until it was too late.

Each of these reasons shames people into silence. The older adult is embarrassed into silence and then lies to the outside world to stay wrapped in their carefully crafted facade. The family is in a state of dysfunction because one child took, another needs, or another sees but isn’t believed. The older person doesn’t want to get anyone into trouble and remains increasingly isolated in silence and fear. They just want the bad to stop but watch helplessly as siblings war or neighbors disappear. Communities unwittingly enable the abuse by denying that homelessness happens within their borders.

I was in my own denial when I came across that first woman. I chastise myself for not knocking on her window to see if she was okay or needed anything. I should have known better.

I, too, am watching a beloved elder be defrauded by her own child. I, too, am cornered into silence for too many reasons to count. She’s afraid and filled with shame, so she lies. Her lies help her keep face even as her world dissolves.

Laws protecting elders from financial peril exist, but enforcement is complex, expensive, and completely impotent when shame and denial cow the victim into lying. Change needs to happen but can only happen when we stop denying what we see.

Resources:

National Council on Aging: https://www.ncoa.org/

National Clearinghouse on Elder Abuse: https://ncea.acl.gov/