Introduction

Before THE RED TENT, before GOOD HARBOR, before and during six
books on contemporary Jewish life, I was a columnist.

I wrote essays about friendship and fashion, about marriage and
electoral politics, about abortion, lingerie, situation comedies,
birth, death, God, country, and my dog. I covered the waterfront
and the supermarket, my synagogue, the waiting room outside the
intensive care unit, and my own kitchen table.

I did this over the course of twenty years for publications that
included a weekly newspaper with a mostly twenty-something
readership, and later for a Sunday-magazine audience of millions. I
wrote for food lovers in a New England magazine, for the parents of
young children in a national publication, and for an international
Jewish audience in an on-line magazine. Most of the time, my
assignment was weekly; sometimes, it was monthly.

My job was to report on the events of the day and the changes under
my own roof. The challenge was to pay closer-than-average attention
and then shape my experiences and reactions into entertaining prose
that rose above the level of my own navel. It was more than a great
job -- it was a meaningful job.

This collection, culled from those publications and years, turns
out to be a sort of diary. It includes musings about the contents
of my refrigerator as well as reflections about the most important
decisions of my life. To divorce and marry again. To have a child.
To live a Jewish life.

I suppose it's a measure of how much the world has changed that
what once seemed like "edgy" choices now seem fairly mainstream.
But at the time, I was thinking and doing things that were simply
unimaginable for women at any other period in human history. Having
been born female, white, and middle class in the United States, in
the middle of the twentieth century, meant the women's movement
happened to me, in me, for me. It meant that it was highly unlikely
that I would die in childbirth, and it meant that I could teach my
daughter to speak in her own voice. It meant I could love my work
and love my family. And it meant that there was an audience for
what I had to say about the trials and joys of this girl's
life.

Actually, the audience was the great, unexpected gift of the
assignment because they wrote back. A few said, "No way," and "How
dare you?" But many more said, "Me, too," and "Thanks."

We connected -- my readers and I -- because we were trying
something entirely new. We were not just tinkering around the
edges, adjusting our "roles" as women and men. We were reinventing
the female psyche and soul, which of course required a radical
recasting of the male. We're still at it, too, and with more
confidence, wisdom, and resources every year. That our daughters
and sons are blasé about this transformation is a measure of
our success.

Looking back through these essays, reflecting on the reflections,
is a lot like leafing through the family photo album. I stop and
exclaim over the difference between my daughter then (kindergarten)
and my daughter now (college). The changes in me are not quite as
photogenic, but I think I've become kinder and more patient. I sure
hope so.

My tent is filled with friends and songs and books and memories. My
tent -- and I hope yours, too -- is filled with blessings. Come
see.

Excerpted from PITCHING MY TENT. © Copyright 2003 by Anita
Diamant. Reprinted with permission by Scribner. All rights
reserved.