About

Having happily avoided foreign language throughout college--foreign language, who needs foreign language; life's revenge was to have me live abroad for 20 years. Queue Joni Mitchell's song "Both Sides Now" given the experience of living abroad as an expatriate writer gave me the educational opportunity to learn to see my home from the other's perspective.

And yes, to finally learn a bit of a foreign language. Que chevere!

At home and abroad I've worked as a journalist for South-North News Service, The Glendale News Herald and the St. Louis Jewish Light; an ad writer at KABR-AM, and in Curacao & Mexico; written The Expat Survival GuideThe Expat A to Z, From Here to There and Bon Bini Ya'll.  And been a book and magazine editor, ghost writer, copy writer and photographer, and was elected to Westport, CT Representative Town Meeting by the meager-but sufficient-margin of 2-votes.

While many find me too outspoken, I am haunted by the guilt of when I stayed silent, Pastor Niemoller's words resonating in my brain:

"First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the socialists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak for me."

Follow me on Twitter @Sherlockianone

https://www.facebook.com/bonbini.yall

Email me at solitarysherlockian@outlook.com

 

 

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  • Meet The Blogger

    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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