Her name was Good

Today was a day... especially for checking up on my Minneapolis people. It has been so heavy lately. There was the middle-of-the night shooting of Rep. Hortman, her spouse, and Gilbert and then the daytime Annunciation school shooting. This morning on a residential street, ICE randomly shot 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good in the head and did not allow her any medical assistance (they threatened the physician who offered to provide medical assistance with a gun); she died. What are you supposed to do when masked goons with no ID surround your car? If they're shooting white people now, the fascism has really escalated. 

She was a human being. She was there as an observer. She was innocent (if that matters). She was a citizen (if that matters). She was a parent. Her six-year-old's father died in 2023, so this child is truly orphaned. 

Renee Nicole (Macklin) Good was a poet. She won a prize for this poem. 

Monday # 1

It's just another Monday, but also the very first Monday of the year, so I'm counting that as significant! 

I'm all prepped (Canvas pages are published, syllabuses are ready, students have been emailed, I've looked over my notes and silly jokes, diagnostics are ready to go, waitlisted students in the oversubscribed classes have been manually added to the roster, I looked up new icebreakers, etc.). But that doesn't mean I'm not super antsy with the usual mix of excitement AND ANXIETY. I've been teaching for over 30 years... And yet, every time is like the first time.

Some somewhat Hamnet-related thoughts. First off, Nance, Lisa, and J were so kind in their approval of that last poem. And I thought about how I couldn't have written that poem if my mom was alive. And then weirdly how proud she'd be of being my muse if she knew. But how happy I'd be to just have her be here so I could write about ants and grasses or whatever else I used to write about before. Also, I'm pretty wrecked by mom's passing... but, watching that movie, it occurred to me that I cannot even imagine losing a human child.  

Pic: The daffodil buds I bought myself last week are beginning to flower, as are the roses SH gave me on Saturday. JL gave me that little red cardinal when cardinals were visiting me everyday in Amma's wake in September. I should start a label# SecretWinterFlowers

patchwork world

Big A offered to take Nu back to college so I could work on what I need to get back to campus. Now I'm mostly all set for the start of term. I'm going to miss Nu and their quirky humor and their sweetly impulsive affections and their friends in and out of the house all day long! 

After Big A returned, we walked to the planetarium for a show, and then walked over to our usual sushi place, and then headed home to watch a movie with Max and Huck. 

So overall a nice (Boss) day for me, but the words of wise ones are ringing in my ears. Edward Said: "Every empire, however, tells itself and the world that it is unlike all other empires, that its mission is not to plunder and control but to educate and liberate." Tupac: "They got money for wars but can't feed the poor."

Pic: The Red Cedar beginning a sunset show as we walked across the bridge. 

"When you can only go UP"

The title makes this sound like a post about how when things start out pretty bad, they can only get better...

But actually, "When you can only go UP" was Big A's text that accompanied this forlorn picture of Huck on the family chat. She loves to scamper up the back stairs, but freaks out about the descent because they're floating stairs and she could fall through them. She used to be fine with them last year, but probably had a close call and decided that was enough. Now, she'll just mope until someone notices and carries her downstairs. (She looks so darn adorable peeking through the slats though!)

However, in the things getting better department:

I'm happy to hear that the National Guard will be withdrawn from Chicago (also LA and Portland, but Chicago is where At lives now).

The lights over the dining table have been very flicker-y for a couple of days. We've put in a call to the electrician, but in the meantime, we've been eating our dinners by candlelight. I knew I'd be all over it, but Nu and Big A really enjoy the cosy vibe as well.

I've been doing things... with people again. Earlier this week, I went to a movie with friends. We were supposed to get dinner after, but the movie was Hamnet and I cried for at least 70% of the movie and so I came back home. I got coffee today. I'm getting brunch tomorrow. It's not all walks and bookclubs either.

School starts up on Monday for Nu and me. I can't wait to get back to the three R's--return, routine, and regularity.

to a bright timeline

Oh, 2026... thank you for getting my hopes up.

New York has its most progressive and (dare I say) charming mayor, also first democratic socialist, Muslim, South Asian, and youngest (in a century). Closer to us, Detroit has its first woman mayor.

I got my first plant catalog in the mail--surely, it must mean Spring is coming? I bought myself some potted daffodils at Trader Joe's yesterday to pretend, anyway.

There was SUNSHINE and so many rainbows from my new rainbow maker.

And at the neighbors' open house today, I got to catch up and felt more like the social me than I've felt in a long time. (Last night, Big A was at work, Nu had friends over, and I rang in the new year with Max + Huck and family on the phone.)

Pic: Here's Max in freshly fallen snow. He's so delirious and zoom-y, that when I say I'm going to catch him, he runs TOWARDS me.  

the unwrapping/unraveling

I'm so grateful for your kindnesses. 

Sorry for being such a whiny ass B yesterday. In my defense, it was a lot at once. A reset is in order.

In the great Christmas unwrapping, my favorites were the book plates so I can really pretend (ha) to be a librarian, and a rainbow maker (it was a "nostalgia present" because I'd given At one when she was a kid and ended up enjoying it more than At had).

At, Nu, and I opened up Amma's suitcase before our Christmas afternoon nap. I'd brought that suitcase back from Bangalore in September and left it in the garage.When we brought it in this week... I realized it was locked... and I had no idea where I had put the key. I remember threading it through the ring of a purse but that was many moons ago, and I don't remember which purse that was. We ended up breaking the (tiny) lock with a hammer. I have saris for a lifetime. The kids didn't want a thing. 

Another thing to unwrap arrived right before Christmas, but I didn't have time until after... Final proofs of the book! The previous proofs looked like a Word document. This one looks like a book! I dedicated the book to Amma.

Pic: I've been giving myself lots of extra time for things since September, and have not been too tough on myself. But I plan to reset starting Monday so I can go into the new year with a fresh mindset. I"m not sure this resolution generator here is it :), but I have a few ideas. 

snowy shrug

Pic: L's snowman is my current patronus ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I managed to design+order+address+sign+sendoff holiday cards. Somewhat casually in keeping with the ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ mode, but still.

I usually agonize over every small decision and have the whole family vet proofs. But this year, I did it around 3 am unilaterally and ordered prints from... the local pharmacy. I decided to mail the cards out today, and didn't let the fact that we didn't have holiday stamps stop me--I used every different kind of stamp we had at hand. We were out of address labels too, so I doctored and used the free labels a couple of organizations had sent me as a thank you for donations. I don't think family and friends will mind or fault me.

Then I rewarded myself. 

I don't seem able to handle Christmas lights or Solstice parties, yet... but I'm off to OM's place in Grand Rapids for a sleepover. We plan to watch Homebound and  Champagne Problems (the latter recommended by J!)

Oh, I also sent off a new chapter proposal this morning, and the editor found it "exciting." Very early stages; fingers crossed.

dearly beloved...

One of my besties sent me an "Emotional Support Prince" doll  who's holding a sign that reminds me that we're here to get through this thing called life. What is really says to me of course, is that we should go crazy and reminds me that we shouldn't let the elevator bring us down (maybe we take the stairs?). Ha.

Happy Solstice! Although we didn't mark it this year, I'm so grateful that the days will get longer... I'll cherish every extra glimmer of light.

And in India it's my uncle's birthday. (I actually get my love for Prince from him!) My mom openly and unashamedly loved her only brother more than she did any of her three sisters and he in turn doted on his nieces (us), so today is a special day. I'm extra proud of him this year. At 74, he's just finished law school this semester. He said he got so annoyed with his lawyers who wouldn't take his advice on his real estate cases so he decided to go to school so he could represent himself! Not sure if that's optimal, but I'm in awe of his gumption and imagination. Needless to say, his classmates adored him. 

Pic: A close up of my Emotional Support Prince, who's sitting in our Christmas tree for now. 

not a sparkly post

My sweet sister has been breaking my heart on the regular. This morning, we both just sat in silence at a loss for words on how to comfort each other. 

The other day she said she was more worried for me because I'm the "sensitive one" and all of this is probably more difficult for me (she's the younger one!). 

She's making a trip to a temple this weekend because she said her wish about Amma was granted. (?????) What wish, I asked in confusion. She said: "Like a fool, I asked that Amma be released from the ICU since she hated being in there by herself... and a promise is a promise." 

I told her I'd be taking the deity to task for doing such a bad job. Yes, you were supposed to release mom from the ICU... and keep her healthy. 

This sent me on a tangent about how my mom loved (and taught me to love) the poems of the 17th century Bhakti poet Ramadas (a pen name, which translates to "Rama's devotee"). He famously embezzled money from his (Muslim Sultan) employer to refurbish a Rama temple, was caught, thrown in jail, and then wrote a lot of angry poetry to the God Rama scolding him for his inability to rescue him. 

One famous and irreverent poem called "Ishvaku kula tilaka" reminds Rama of the many pieces of jewelry Ramadas bought for him with his embezzled monies and asks Rama--"What? Did you forget? Do you think your dad bought all that for you?" lol. So rude! It's actually in a tradition called Ninda Stuti, where the devotee assumes a familiar relationship and goads the deity before seeking deliverance. But that's totally what I would be doing... 

My mom would have thought this was hilarious. We would have sung "Ishvaku Kula Tilaka" together and then followed it up with "Palluke Bangaramayena" (Can't you reply? Have your words become as precious as gold?).

the reckoning

A lovely last day in the city where we met and fell in love two decades ago.

Es Devlin's Congregation at the Perlman Center (poetic) , the Ruth Asawa retrospective at MoMA (brilliantly wintery) and a leisurely linner at a hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant where my curry had all the coconut milk I craved and my papaya salad was liberally laced with chillies. 

Presumably because of the tiny snow storm, our flight home kept getting delayed... from 7 to 9 to 10 to 11. And went through a similar number of gate changes. I guess we can't say we were taken by surprise when our flight got canceled. 

There are no other direct flights until tomorrow, and Big A has to work Monday night, so we're going to rent a car and drive through the night to make it home. 

Pic: A glimpse of Congregation.

mild disappointments

Today was series of mild disappointments, the kind that happen when you're too hyped up for something. 

The show that was critically acclaimed and came so highly recommended was... alright. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't terrific. Liberation takes place in Ohio in the 1970s around a group of feminists, and Big A who grew up in Ohio in the 1970s surrounded by his mom and other feminists found it rather underwhelming. Same (despite my differing biography). I really loved the mini series Mrs. America (Hulu, I think) and expected something with that level of punch.

The friend I was so looking forward to meeting... I couldn't wait to get away from them. I seemed to get on their nerves no matter what I said. There's a lot of love between us, but they seemed to be able to see secret agendas in a lot of what I said and did. And that was exhausting. (I didn't have any secret agendas.)

Dinner was at an upscale Thai place (Chalong), and it was good, but I love regular Thai food just fine, I guess? Big A told me that the Thai government actively promotes Thai restaurants worldwide as part of their "gastrodiplomacy" program. Wild.

Pic: Our Liberation  playbills and the beginning of a baby snow storm.

in NYC

Left home at 3:30 am this morning for a weekend trip to NYC with Big A. 

I tend to give away a lot of our extra cash to GoFundMes and buying groceries for internet strangers, and Big A who makes way more than I do lets me do what I want, so when he wants to live large once in a while, I play along. 

Here we are at Le Benardin, eating plates of perfectly arranged art, having possibly the best meal of our lives... (and definitely the most expensive). 

There was a bisque with tarragon foam that I will dream about forever. And it's time for me to wonder again why I don't use things like parsnips and tarragon more frequently in my cooking. (I only seem to use parsnips at Thanksgiving and tarragon on summer rolls.)

going strong today

I'm at best skeptical about workplace personality assessments like Myer-Briggs (unscientific!)  and prone to scoff at stuff like Enneagrams (cultish!); however, I found my CliftonStrengths assessment was eerily accurate.

I really liked the focus on strengths rather than on perceived weaknesses and found myself agreeing with an assessment for perhaps the first time. My top five strengths (at this moment anyway) were "Learner, Achiever, Belief, Input, and Positivity."  (Here's a quick reference to the 34 strengths.) 

But as we learned at my table where there was another "Learner," the way we were described in our individual reports were very different because of the other strengths our Learner selves leaned into. My individual learner strengths combined with my positivity, achiever, belief, and input made me a very strong teacher. Yay!

I spent four hours with some terrific people exploring and learning to "name, claim, and aim" my strengths. I got to take the test for free through the college, but High5 and StrengthsProfile are said to be similar. I really want everyone I know to take the test.

I'm surprised Empathy wasn't in my top five...

And why is Creativity not listed as a strength at all?

unexpected glimmers

"I can't find you... ARE YOU UPSTAIRS SLEEPING IN MY BED?" L texted halfway through the evening, making me giggle. 

Actually, I'd left her holiday party early, and Big had brought me back home because I'd started some story and was going to cry. But before that I had a really great time. 

J's very timely post on how to survive the holiday season and the one Nicole directed me to on Cup of Jo came in useful!

And look, the hyacinths I randomly stuck into various planters are beginning to show... This one by my reading chair announced itself through its fragrance and then I saw its precious pink candy stripes.

Also, Max, Maxie, Max-a-Million, my late-in-life, baby is underfoot, curious, and with me everywhere.

stopping by the woods on a snowy... afternoon

I graded most of the day and then sat on my butt trying to motivate myself to get off it when L emailed to see if I was up for a walk.

I was.

Except I couldn't find my phone when she came to pick me up. She tried calling, but my ringer is usually off when I'm teaching, so that didn't work. We finally found it using "Find My Phone" under a pile of kitchen laundry I'd been folding and then abandoned some time this morning.

All of which to say, when we got to Baker Woods, it was the much needed rest and reset I needed.

And now back to my regularly scheduled promises to keep and all the miles to go before I sleep.

Pic: Baker Woods with L.

Intersecting at Stoppard

Tom Stoppard died this week. I've been in awe of his work since I was an undergraduate, maybe even before I actually ever read his work, simply from the sheer audacity of the premise of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. The more I knew, the more there was to love. Later, he fed my theory that writers who come to a language late as foreigners (like Conrad, Rushdie, Nabokov, Brodsky, Stoppard) write so precisely, because they have some additional intuitive insight into language. Much later, I learned of his deep connections to India as it played out in Arcadia and Indian Ink.  (In the linked article here, I was charmed to see a reference to Hermione Lee a much beloved English professor and the president of my college at Oxford.)

And it turns out that theater is life. 

In a literal sense. 

In a letter to the Times of London, in response to Stoppard's obituary, Michael Baum, a Professor emeritus of surgery, wrote: "In 1993 my wife and I went to see the first production of Arcadia by Tom Stoppard and in the interval I experienced a Damascene conversion. As a clinical scientist I was trying to understand the enigma of the behaviour of breast cancer, the assumption being that it grew in a linear trajectory spitting off metastases on its way. In the first act of Arcadia, Thomasina asks her tutor, Septimus: "If there is an equation for a curve like a bell, there must be an equation for one like a bluebell, and if a bluebell, why not a rose?" With that Stoppard explains chaos theory, which better explains the behaviour of breast cancer. At the point of diagnosis, the cancer must have already scattered cancer cells into the circulation that nest latent in distant organs. The consequence of that hypothesis was the birth of adjuvant systemic chemotherapy and rapidly we saw a striking fall of the curve that illustrated patients' survival. Stoppard never learnt how many lives he saved by writing Arcadia."

[As it turns out, I wrote a letter to the editor myself this week trying to reach David Shulman. I actually met David in the late 1990s at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. I was with a group of people at IAS and heard someone say "Tamil Pessalama?" (Shall we speak Tamil?). I turned around expecting to see a Tamil person (the intonation and accent were so perfect), but here was this genial white guy. David is a genius (a MacArthur Genius even!) and works on poets I revere. But more recently and importantly, he's been a lifeline for me with his tireless work and compassionate voice for Palestine. I wrote a note thanking him and sent it to him at his university email address, but it was deemed undeliverable. So I then sent it to the letters editor at NYRB where he has written most recently with an earnest request to forward it... and they must have! Because this morning, I received a lovely email from David that brought tears to my eyes. (I wonder how much of my letter writing is due to reading The Correspondent!)]

Pic: Michael Baum's Letter in The Times. All the deaths since mom's seem extra poignant--Andrea Gibson, Robert Redford, Diane Keaton, Alice Wong, Dharmendra, Jimmy Cliff--I'm seeing them all through her connections to them too.

some noes

I would have been miserable as a lawyer. I had to do lawyer-like things today in my role as a CASA and also in my role as a Title IX advisor on campus, and while they were necessary things, I felt quite unhappy doing them. It reminded me a bit of what our realtor JS said. He used to be a cop and said he liked being a realtor because when he was a cop, 90% of his interactions with people were negative and as a realtor, it was the inverse. 

*

I had a good time at the thrift store (I found some great copies of some fairly recent books) but somehow managed to forget the one thing I actually went in there for... an old lampshade I plan to use as a collar for our Christmas tree.

*

Speaking of which, no--our tree isn't up. I took Thanksgiving down just this past weekend, and I like a little palate cleanser... all the better to savor Christmas decorations. (Also, the kids won't be here until mid December, which is when the tree will come up from the basement. Hallelujah.)

Pic: I kind of did decorate for Thanksgiving! (And didn't do *anything* for Halloween.)

beyond thankful

Today is At's Boss Day.  

And it made her so happy to hear that Big A's favorite photo from Thanksgiving was this one of At on the sofa with the puppies, because it is so reminiscent of that whole genre of paintings from the 19th century, where women are reclining luxuriously on sofas while reading with pets--except this one is updated for the 21st century by At reading on her phone.

I mean... it's nice, I suppose, to be compared to a fancy lady in a painting... But also, while Big A's love was never in question, he used to brag a lot about "my boy" and found At's transition tough, so this compliment meant a lot to At.

And a shoutout to whatever art appreciation course Big A took in college. Some of it may come from his artist grandparents and mom, but his art references frequently have me looking stuff up.
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ALSO, THANK YOU FOR READING!! It's going to take me a minute to get through the comments...

post Friendsgiving post

While I was puttering around, putting things away after dinner, I found these three (At, Huck, and Max) all cozied up...

At told me she's moving to Chicago at the end of year. 

"At the end of the year," so there's some time, I thought. Before realizing that it's already the end of November. 

I'm happy for her as she's outgrown Lansing. And she was supposed to move to Seattle this year before all the tragedies happened. And Chicago is much closer. But it will mean that our impromptu trips and hangs are numbered.

Nu who was napping elsewhere when I took this pic watched the Lilith Fair documentary with me. I watched it earlier this month and LOVED IT SO MUCH. I laughed, I cried, I goosebumped up, I texted people about it, I was inspired... When I say something is feminist, this is what I want it to mean--not merely that it's women-centered, but that it is anti-patriarchal. That it is about people who support each other, that they offer opportunities to groups who are typically shut out, that they make childcare and family healthcare available, that they listen to critique (for instance, that black women artists are underrepresented) without getting defensive and work to fix it, that there is confidence being in such a space that racists and homophobes are unwelcome. 

Nu and I were looking at each other all starry-eyed, wishing we could go to one...

T for Thanksgiving!

I like how our additional table (build a longer table is my guiding motto), turns our seating into a T for Thanksgiving!

(Although I want to call it Friendsgiving or Thanksloving or something else entirely to avoid celebrating colonial narrative... even as I acknowledge the aspect of gratitude... anyway...)