In this debut memoir, she chronicles the humorous--and often harrowing--adventures of the dueling inner voices that emerge in the silence: one intent on focusing on the seemingly negative aspects of her experiences, and the other on helping her see the positivity that can come from them. Illuminating for those who are new to mindfulness and resonant for those with established practices, Sit, Walk, Don't Talk: How I Survived a Silent Meditation Retreat also includes a section for undertaking a silent retreat without leaving home along with a helpful appendix listing resources that readers can turn toward when exploring mindfulness in general. Sit, Walk, Don't Talkis written from a secular perspective and will appeal to folks who've never attended a residential retreat but are curious about the experience and want to get a taste of what to expect before possibly taking the plunge. Practitioners who dream of going on retreat but cannot make the time will also get a lot out of Howd's story, as well as folks who've been on many retreats and want to recapture the feeling without leaving home."

    Delve deep into the lives of the world's most powerful women in politics, and learn how ambition and altruism make these extraordinary women truly extraordinary leaders. Lisa Halaby, whose Arab-American father was the CEO of Pan Am Airlines and a former head of the Federal Aviation Administration, led a fairly routine life until she was introduced to Jordan's King Hussein. Within months, the golden-haired Arab-American was married to King Hussein and crowned queen of Jordan.

    

    After Clint’s first collection of stories, which act as an apology to his wife (with essays taking a humorous yet critical look of his role as a husband), this natural follow up will place the author’s children at the center of the apology and recount funny and relatable tales of Clint’s various parenting fails. Stories will detail incidents of the author half surviving, half ruining birthdays, holidays, vacations and other important milestones in his children’s lives, and touchingly examine the ways he makes up for them.With this book exploring the widely universal theme of parenting, new audiences (as well as Clint’s dedicated following) will see stories as both a mirror of their own lives and a comic relief from it, and eagerly sink their teeth into this truthful and entertaining narrative. Essays include titles like, “I Changed A Friend’s Name in my Phone to Santa and Had Him Text Threats to my Children,” “Pro Tip: Pick Up The Dog Poop BeforeThe Easter Egg Hunt,” “Reasons My Children Cried At Their Own Birthday Parties,” and “I Am A Summer Scrooge.” Clint’s addicting voice, writing about being a parent around Christmas, Halloween, New Years and more, will help anyone who is a mother or father, who works with young children, is member of a large family or has ever taken care of another human being before relate to and connect with these stories.

    For The Best of Gerald Durrell she has chosen evocative, quirky, engaging and humorous pieces to give a wonderful picture of how his extraordinary life unfolded. Starting with his early naturalist days and the rapid development of his passion for animals, this anthology includes writings of his collecting trips to such places as Cameroon, Argentina and Madagascar, his growing concern about the nature of zoos, the emergence of his conservation plans, and the realization of his lifelong dream, a zoo of his own, and how it became a model for the future.

    . . [Weaver] paints a romantic picture of Greenwich Village in the 1950s and '60s, when she worked in publishing and hung out with Allen Ginsberg and the poet Richard Howard and was wild and loose, getting high and falling into bed almost immediately with her crushes, including Lenny Bruce. . . . Her descriptions of the Village are evocative, recalling a time when she wore long skirts, Capezio ballet shoes and black stockings,' and used to sit in the Bagatelle and have sweet vermouth on the rocks with a twist of lemon.' Early on, she quotes Pasternak: You in others: this is your soul.' Kerouac's soul lives on through many people -- Joyce Johnson, for one -- but few have been as adept as Weaver at capturing both him and the New York bohemia of the time. He was lucky to have met her." --Tara McKelvey, The New York Times Book Review“There is a tendency for memoirs written by women about The Great Man to be self-abnegating exercises in a kind of inverted narcissism—the author seeking to prove her worth as muse, as consort, as chosen one. Not so with Helen Weaver’s beautiful, plainspoken elegy for her time spent with Jack Kerouac, who suddenly appeared at her door in the West Village one white, frosty morning with Allen Ginsberg, who knew Weaver’s roommate, in tow.”—New York Post“Helen Weaver’s book was a revelation to me! . . . This is the most graphic, honest, shameless, and moving documentary of what the newly liberated women in cities got up to—how they lived, loved, and created. Who knew? It is time they did! And here’s how.”—Carolyn Cassady“The book recounts her affair with Kerouac in 1956 during the period when he signed his literary contract for On the Road, but

    Throughout her tumultuous childhood, Anna found for a life of normalcy and despite the death of her older sister, France—who succumbed to the same disease—Anna pursued her dream to live a long, productive life with courage, determination and hope.

    Scott Fitzgerald.”—The Philadelphia Inquirer “This book brings back marvelous memories of a very special time.”—Frank Sinatra Called “a living compendium of a hundred years of social history” by The New York Times Book Review, Peter Duchin has lived through tremendous highs and dismal lows. Orphaned by his glamorous parents, the Newport debutante Marjorie Oelrichs and the famous bandleader Eddy Duchin, he was raised in the privileged, old-money world of Averell Harriman, the diplomat and former governor of New York. He grew up to be one of America’s preeminent bandleaders, effortlessly entertaining and charming partygoers at thousands of society galas, from the White House to Truman Capote’s Black and White Ball. In Ghost of a Chance, he looks back on a life that another man may not have survived. And as he relates the frank, often surprising recollections of the many friends and famous figures who made up the strange family of his youth, Duchin chronicles the changing face of social life in America. Praise for Ghost of a Chance   “A tale told with wit and charm . . . It is a sprightly, engaging, and at times hilarious look back at a life spent in music, show business, and what used to be called society.”—The Boston Globe“A bittersweet gem of a book.”—The Philadelphia Inquirer“Peter Duchin’s glamorous story is about absent fathers, surrogate mothers, and dwelling on the edges of money and power in a tuxedoed world.”—Gay Talese“A great read.”—Frank Sinatra

    He went directly from high school in Brooklyn to a job at the Reptile House at the Bronx Zoo, where he stayed for more than thirty years, eventually becoming superintendent of reptiles. He later became curator of the Central Park Zoo, and continues to work with law enforcement as a forensic specialist in the fight to stop illegal importation and slaughter of reptiles for the luxury exotic-leather industry. (His effectiveness at this would earn him the moniker “The Bald-Headed Snake Keeper in the Bronx.â€) You Belong in a Zoo! presents the amazing experiences Brazaitis has had in more than four decades of working with wild animals.Enlightening, funny, and often outrageous, You Belong in a Zoo! is a fascinating behind-the-scenes look at zoos, animal people, and some of nature’s most extraordinary creatures.

    In fact, each setback they experience just seems to immerse them deeper into a life they have totally fallen in love with. 'Seriously Mum, Who's that Chicken?' is the latest installment of their adventures as they continue to seize the day, living off-grid and loving every minute.

    There was no immediate response on my part, only a deep sense of fear entombed by a completely paralyzed inner spirit. Much to my surprise, he spoke again: "Sir, you've waited too long to get here. You're not going to make it." And he continued: "If you believe in God, this is the time to make peace." In that very moment, I said to myself, "What do you mean, 'If you believe in God?' Of course I believe in God! I'm a man of faith and a Catholic priest!" Fr. John Tourangeau, O. Praem., a Norbertine priest who had an afterlife experience following a major heart attack, emphatically states, "Heaven is for real!" Within this enlightening and hope-filled book, Fr. John weaves a powerful and dynamic tapestry of the Kingdom of God at hand through the exploration of Christian tradition, Sacred Scripture, Catholic teaching, as well as his own lived experiences. "While the fullness of heaven cannot be fully experienced in our life here on earth," Father explains, "we are able to more fully experience God's love for us through our relationships with others. For it is in and through these relationships that we draw closer to Christ and his promise for us."

    A collection of humorous hospital stories and events as witnessed by a frequently incarcerated patient and told from a patient's point of view while secured and gagged in a hospital bed.Stories and tales from a lifetime of hospital admissions, showing that hospital life as a patient is not all doom and gloom.

    It includes tales of living through a lifetime of dysfunction, violence and terror at the hands of both her father and other nefarious individuals who would seek to perpetuate the cycle. More importantly though, it is also a story of how they did not succeed in this hateful quest, as Jvonne struggled on and through to the other side to embrace love, laughter and the pursuit of personal happiness. Part of this amazing transformation even led to her adoption of a biracial infant, an event that served both as a healing elixir to her soul and a grandiose “!#%& you” to all the ugliness that hate brings.

    

     1988 would prove to be the worst drought since the ‘dustbowl’ of the 1930’s.  Yellowstone would burn,  Ronald Reagan would shake his fist at the 'Evil Empire', and the author, oblivious to it all, hit the road and never looked back. That trip would consume the entire summer, logging over twelve thousand miles from sea to sea and back.  “Alone In The Wind” is the account of that trip, with pictures, maps, historical & geographical notes, and rolling narrative. A few selected excerpts: The early evening sun is bright red and except for wind slapping the tents, all is quiet.  Other campers are talking in subdued tones.  The  scene has a timeless quality I can’t explain.  Maybe it’s how I’d picture an Oregon Trail  camp.  Everybody too exhausted to do more than whisper, anticipating the day ahead, trying to forget the ones behind. Kurt Vonnegut might have written that the Custer annihilation occurred solely to provide me with a ranger to give advice on the coming storms.  That irony rattled around in my helmet for the next forty miles. Chewing mindlessly I stare at passing trucks with red eyes.  This has been an endless, grueling day.  A far cry from the mystical experience that other writers claim.  The bone numbing reality of motorcycle touring is exhaustion, dehydration, disorientation. Vacant eyes seem to be nothing more than rubber stoppers that keep my liquefied brains from spilling out over my face. Carved out by the tides, the cave is probably underwater for most of the day.  At the entrance is a rock with a well-formed depression at the top.  Without thinking I dump both bottles of Atlantic Ocean into that shallow basin, move deeper into the cave and sit.  There’s a lot on my mind, and it all seems to be demanding immediate attention.  The mission will be accomplished.  The oceans will unite.  It will take a few hours, and I won’t be here to see it, but this is a better way.  Letting the sea take it on its own terms seems more fitting. Heat was the real problem.  Both the heat of a western summer day and the heat thrown off an air-cooled engine that's being pushed to its limits.   While it was never transcendental, the passage was always very real, very immediate, and unforgettable.  Thinking back to the other riders that I met, it seemed the same for them as well.  They were all worn down with fatigue and loneliness - while at the same time brimming over with confidence and satisfaction. I won't forget them.