Carol Kirkpatrick, possibly the brightest writer I ever met in a writing group (proof positive being her ability to scribble out a pithy, brilliantly crafted story on the spot) had the additional charm of treating me to an oral history of Brooklyn whenever we walked its streets together. Combining warmth, depth, humor, and subtlety well into her 90s, she will always represent perfectly what I’d like to be when I grow up. My hope is to charm you with this sample of her writing:
Abdominal Thrust
As an old time First Aid instructor for the Red Cross, I knew I needed an abdominal thrust (the Heimlich Maneuver) not water.
But I couldn’t tell Beatrice. I couldn’t breathe. Without air you can’t speak.
Beatrice stopped the car and ran into a bodega. By the time she came out I had performed an abdominal thrust on myself and dislodged the chunk of bread. I was able to sigh with relief, thank her, and drink the water slowly to calm myself after a bad scare.
I had had a close call. A quick fist, pulled sharply inward just above the belly button forces a jet of air from the diaphragm to expel the obstruction. Practice it before you need it.
