Danielle R. Shapazian

When I was a girl, there was a time I had an old slant-top desk in my bedroom. I loved that piece of junk. With its nooks and crannies and wide writing surface, I loved to store pencils and paper in it—although I mostly used it to play school, taking roll call and giving directions to my imaginary students. By the time I was in high school, I had a wall full of shelves and another desk space, but I did most of my studying on the floor.

A few minutes ago, I decided to check my email on my work-issued laptop. Imagine my surprise when the image of an Armenian monastery (Hagharstin) popped up as the Microsoft screensaver.

Thinking about desks made me remember my favorite desk photo, taken in my bedroom almost 50 years ago. In those days, I commuted to Fresno State daily and lived at home. You can see my stereo albums and high school tennis trophies in the blurry background.

My built-in desk or the floor wasn’t going to work in this instance. Neither was the library at school. Instead, I had to set up a card table so I could have room to stretch.

Seeing the thick textbook and all the disarray next to my typewriter, I can still remember the feeling in my frenzied brain: I was trying to create and type out a nursing care plan, a formidible goal for a 19 year-old girl. How do you know what you don’t know? How do you begin to figure it out? How you start learning what a patient needs when you know nothing?

I still had so much to learn before I tempered the anxiety and panic.

Happy Mother’s Day — to the wonderful humans who are mothers, and to the women like me, women without children, who are mothers at heart. Today, I celebrated at a lovely luncheon at Pardini’s. Later, I paid respects to my mom at the Fowler cemetery, and then the Taco Bell.

I have always been part of what I jokingly call a “cemetery family.” As a child, I recall my father taking my brothers and me to cemetery events on Memorial Day. The American flag stood tall as we reverently honored the deceased. Death was difficult for me to fathom back then, but I learned that a life that had ended was a life to be respected.

Becoming a nurse modified my perspective, even as the mystery of death remained powerful.

After my mother died almost 18 years ago, the tone of my cemetery visits shifted. They became a means of reflection and comfort. Birdsong often accompanied my tears. Then my father died.

These days, I pick whatever flowers I can find in my garden and clump them in a simple offering that I hope my parents can see from heaven. And if they can’t, I am still providing my care, which is important to me. Next, I’ll make my way to the older section of the cemetery where I remember my aunties and grandparents.

Whenever my brothers and niece join me, like they did tonight, they’ll meander over the quiet lawns and read the names of people they’ve known. Even in death, love finds its community. And then it eats tacos. 🙏🌸

The San Joaquin Valley Bookfest 2026 was a celebration of ideas and heart. I loved every bit of it.

Thank you to all the participants, sponsors, and volunteers who made the day so special. Manuel Muñoz gave an engaging keynote presentation. I was honored to introduce Apryl Lewis to the stage. Dozens of authors shared their inspiration and art in front of audiences and at book-signing tables.

The best part? The sense of community we felt while new connections were made. Smiles were everywhere.

Thanks for a wonderful day. ❤️ 📚✍🏻

When all the planning is done, you receive a funny, heartfelt photo from some talented writers and community leaders. You have a laugh. You tell yourself: THIS is why we make the effort to grow goodness between us. Because when we come together? We reel in love, and the synergy and affection become magic.

See you tomorrow!

We hope to see you on Saturday!

(Link to free tickets, below.)

We need the San Joaquin Valley Bookfest more than ever | Opinion

Will you be there on Saturday? Your friends at The San Joaquin Valley Bookfest are waiting for you.

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Over many years, this has proven true to me: The work I've put into reaching a goal hasn't traveled in a linear fashion with the inspiration that may or may not have fueled the work. (Sometimes, we feel it. Sometimes, we don't.) Yet, I've always known that if I put one foot in front of the other, one word in front of the other, there was always the possibility that magic could happen.

And so it was with The San Joaquin Valley Bookfest. I was inspired; I did the work. Now, I am doing the work, and it's time to point my energies toward other things that inspire me.

The new friends I made through the festival were unexpected and a blessing. The enthusiasm that bubbled from the community was a validation of the goodness of this place I call home. I hope we gave writers a place to expand their dreams. I hope we encouraged readers to cultivate their own aspirations. At the very least, I hope we provided worthy entertainment.

I look forward to seeing you. 💛

The San Joaquin Valley Bookfest 2025.💛
Will you be there on May 2, 2026?

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DXjyMb6DVwp/?igsh=NjZiM2M3MzIxNA==

The San Joaquin Valley Bookfest 2025. Hope to see you on May 2, 2026!