
BIOGRAPHY
A native of Providence, and graduate of the University of Rhode Island, Marilyn Pellini was a teacher in both Providence and Katonah, New York, where she currently lives. A dedicated community volunteer, she was president of the local PTA, the Katonah Village Improvement Society, and the Women’s Civic Club of Katonah. Her poetry and articles have been published in Westchester Parent, Bay State Parent, and On the Water magazine. She wrote for Brick Magazine and currently writes for the Katonah/Lewisboro Times. Taking first place in a writing contest sponsored by the Women’s Clubs of New York State, she presented her book at their convention in Albany.
INTERVIEW
confetti: Who or what inspired you to write?
Marilyn Pellini (MP): When my husband, Al, died in a bizarre fishing accident, I was overcome with sadness but also with anger. I began writing him nasty notes about how could he have taken the foolish chances he did, and thus “going” and leaving me behind. I was the one who had 12 operations and two extremely serious cancers—I was supposed to, and definitely expected to, go first. How was I to navigate this horrible new status?
confetti: How would you characterize your writing style?
(MP): Since I do not write fiction, my style makes me want to be clear, simple, and concise. If ever there is a chance for a touch of humor, I enjoy adding that to lighten my sometimes heavy subject matter. (Death being about as weighty as one can get.)
confetti: Who is your favorite writer, and why?
(MP): I really enjoy reading eclectically, so do not have a favorite author. Subject matter and style are much more important to me than reading all by one specific person.
confetti: What are you currently reading?
(MP): The title is: All the beauty in the world. Very different than much of what I have read recently. It is the true story of a young man who takes a job as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of art and stays for many years. Simultaneously, I am delving into Ask Not which is about John F Kennedy’s famous inauguration speech. The book before those two was historical fiction titled, The Paris Architect.
confetti: What are your three favorite books?
(MP): Very seldom do I read fiction. Never do I do mysteries. My favorite genre is biographies or anything that I can learn something from. That being said, my very favorite of all time was Gone with the Wind. My next top choice, The Women, followed by Anne of Green Gables. Ever, ever so many more could be added to this list. All of these mentioned I realize seem to go against my favorite genre. Anne was a surprising choice for me, because I read it as an adult. My husband and I visited the Anne of Green Gables author’s cottage in Canada and bought a copy of the book for our then three-year-old granddaughter. Since it would be a while before she got to it, I read it aloud to Al while we drove along the beautiful Canadian byways. We both loved it!
confetti: What are your three favorite movies?
(MP): Since I have only watched, in my life, four movies over a second time or even third time, I’d have to make my list four long instead of three. They are: Gone with the Wind, Pretty Woman, Mash, and Dirty Dancing.
confetti: What is your favorite song of all time?
(MP): Now mind you, I was married many, many years ago, and asked that our first dance together be to “Hawaiian Wedding Song.” The words were so beautiful and meaningful, and although we could not afford to go to Hawaii for our honeymoon, we did spend one winter there upon retiring, staying on the three primary islands each for a two week period.
confetti: What advice would you give to young writers?
(MP): 1. Stick with it!
2. Ask people you love and trust to read your work, and ask them if they would give you their truthful comments in writing.
3. Study carefully numerous grammar textbooks.
4. Revise, revise, revise.
5. Avoid using too many contractions and watch for long run-on sentences. Be careful of your paragraphing too.
ABOUT WRITING DEAR AL
The thought of ever writing anything at all never entered my head. Writing something useful and needed was very far afield for me. My book just seemed to evolve. I lost my dear husband, Al, in a bizarre fishing accident. Authorities attributed his death to drowning.
At first, I wrote nasty, mean, terribly sad letters to him, almost always commencing with the same first sentence, “How could you go and leave me behind?” In fact, that question was my original title for the book, but my publisher preferred, Dear Al, A Widow’s Struggles and Remembrances, which I came up with as an alternate on the spur of the moment.
I was definitely supposed to go first, because I have had 11 operations, two of which were very serious cancers. That is obviously not what happened. God must still have something left for me to do here. I just hope He gives me a hint or clue soon as to what that is. (I do belong to five women’s clubs and even at my age—old—I try to do my share.)
I believe my book can be helpful to both widows and widowers, and I make sure I bring a signed copy to each wake and funeral. Those who have lost a dear one tell me they have read it over many times, relieved to know they are not crazy, just deep in mourning.
So here I share a few letters from Dear Al. They are part of a larger story—one that I hope will bring others hope and comfort in their times of hopelessness and grief.
Dear Al,
The unthinkable happened. You were killed in a bizarre fishing accident. The coroner said you drowned. Why, oh why, did this happen to shatter my world and my very existence as I had always known it?
Dear Al,
I’m always so desolate. I am trying hard to cope. I was advised to write – keep a journal. Don’t know how I did it in the beginning when I could not function at all, but everything I ran into was so hard, unusual, and got wrenching that it did seem comforting to write. It helped to write to you!
Dear Al,
One last thing I wanted you to know, I only remember the good things. Our life together was often bumpy, but it was adventurous. Many thanks for all the good times. How I wish it did not have to end, and that our lives together were always good times.
Dear Al,
God’s had you survive two terrible cancers only to have you go this way. Did he do it because he knew this would be the perfect end for you? There was nothing in this world you loved more than fishing for stripers – not even me. You loved the solitude, the sea, all weather conditions, fishing in the dark of night, the lure and promise of catching the world’s largest recorded striped bass. I could never understand why this was so important to you, but I knew there were many fellows just like you out there, rigging their rods, stringing live eels, tramping the sands of Block Island, Cuttyhunk, Montauk, Cape Cod, Narragansett, and so many more spots in search of that big one.
Dear Al,
Send me a sign you are OK. I need to know so I can go on and maybe even be happy for a second, a minute, an hour. What about that rainbow on the day without a drop of rain? Was that a signal? Well, was it? Were the clouds forming the shape of a cross when I had looked to the sky for no apparent reason, looking for a sign? How will I know? How can I be sure? Please, oh please, offer me a clue I can believe in.
Dear Al,
Fourteen years have gone by. I cannot believe that. I still miss you greatly, but things have changed a tiny bit. I go out with friends and once again I can laugh and smile. I take great pleasure and pride in our grandchildren. They are growing so fast, and all are almost finished with college. How excited you would’ve been to have known that two have gone to your alma mater, Boston College. I know you would’ve been proud that I wrote a book, I know you would’ve wanted me to go on with my life. I am trying. I am sincerely trying. I still love and miss you and wish you were here!
Dear Al,
I still miss you so very much, every hour of every day both awake and asleep. Please look down and keep guiding me. Let my life still be one of meaning, giving and helping until I join you.
Love, Me
PUBLICATIONS

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JOURNALISM
“Out of the Mouths of Babes” published in Katonah/Lewisboro Times
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