my tiny domestic tragedies

Big A seemed a bit better yesterday. But he didn't think so. I think he likes being taken care of. It makes me think of my hero, June Jordan, saying "None of us has known enough tenderness" and how Big A is usually the one taking care of people. Today A says he's better... but not well. Tomorrow he's scheduled to work. He plans to go for it despite my misgivings. 

Last year, when he ended up in the hospital for a week it was because of complications from the long Covid he got when he went to help out in NYC at the peak of the pandemic in May 2020 (way before any vaccine). So this third round of Covid terrifies me on a deep level--I keep imagining the effects lingering on even after things seem normal.

In the hits keep coming department: Nu's extensive filling came out, they slipped and fell on the ice, and their phone stopped working. Guess which thing made them cry? I'll have to get things fixed for my baby tomorrow.

This piece by Mhawish "I Spoke With 20 People in Gaza After the Ceasefire. My Heart Broke 20 Times" is as heartbreaking as it sounds, and is searingly poetic and will live inside me forever. This is massacre delicately uncovered to help us understand how excruciating the human loss in *each* of the hundreds of thousands reported dead, injured, and bereaved. How domestic tragedies multiply into humanitarian disgrace...

Pic: It's still icy, but there was some fresh snow, which made it easier to walk on and brilliant blue skies and sunshine. Max, Huck, and I are easily pleased, I guess.

"Ladies' Liquor and Cake"

I am lucky to know JS, the wonderful poet and human, whose brainchild "Ladies' Liquor and Cake" is.

When the invitation to this "essential frivolity" came a few weeks ago, it urged: "These are desperate times and we must cut to the quick: good company (essential), cake (of course) and liquor (naturally)."

I was happy to attend. Now I'm full of good company and cake, sushi (it's my Boss Day), I made time for a yoga sesh, I'm deep into a couple of good books, and also At came by and I got a good cuddle in with the best human cuddle baby I've made! What I can control is going really well.

Outside is still a mess.

Pic: JS had a place for people to post uplifting upcoming events at "Ladies' Liquor and Cake." Her baby's name is Scout too, and that's yet another reason I like being at her place.

things I did I can be proud of

I called my political representatives about the government coup by Musk. I used 5calls.org and it's really easy as they hook you up with the relevant reps and provide a script if you want to use it.  

I tried something new... I applied to a medical  humanities conference over the weekend, and... I got accepted! I think I can use professional development funds to attend this one. (This reminds me that I ought to submit poems to journals. Some poems got picked up by anthologies last year, but I didn't actually send out any all last year. That's terrible. I shouldn't be so afraid of rejection that I never get accepted!)

I tidied my closet... and everything looks so bright and boutique-y. I catch myself going in there like a dork just to look at it. 

I got so many recommendation letters for students and support letters for colleagues done. I was talking to Big A about how I spend too much time on these when the prevailing advice is to get them done as quickly as possible. Reason #457865 to love him, he said of course it makes sense for me to do things in a way that leaves me feeling satisfied. (People depend on these things; I never feel like I can just dash them off.) 

Pic: A sord (I had to look it up) of mallards on a floe on the Red Cedar.

prepping < resourcefulness < generosity

According to this article in the New Yorker,  many Americans are prepping for a second civil war. Anecdotally, I've certainly encountered my fair share of people talking about stockpiling canned goods, taking selfdefense classes, and buying firearms and so on since the election. Some of this seems sensible.

Extreme prepping seems like a lot. I'll never forget watching Cloverfield Lane with the kids long ago and being horrified by the John Goodman character. My At sagely told me that that was kind of the point--if you accidentally live through the apocalypse, the people around you are likely to be dreadful.

And here I was patting myself on the back, for being resourceful because I had a stubborn salt stain on my black boots that I disappeared by using a black Sharpie. I think I picked this up from the Julia Roberts character in Pretty Woman. She might have used a black eyeliner, but it's basically the same thing--we just have different tools of the trade, I guess. 

Pic: This is Mr. Arlo who was a welcome gatecrasher at my meeting with the MacCurdy students. I am so proud of my students' generosity and proposals on how they could use their house (a women's resource center) as a safe and welcoming space given the possibility of federal freezes, raids, etc. This is the mode that makes the most sense. 

seeing red until

Red Note: I tried the new place all the kids are decamping to in the wake of the potential TikTok ban--just to check it out. It was kinda confusing.

Red Book: Someone said: "Did you know that RedNote actually translates into "Little Red Book" as in Mao's Little Red Book?" That does not faze me. The Little Red Book has its moments. It's not like it's something written by Kim Jong Un. C'mon. I kept thinking about that person's outrage all day, and it was a bit funny.

Red Card: An international student wondered if we should be giving other international students "red cards." At first I thought it was something to do with the Lunar new year, but it was actually about how to prepare yourself for immigration raids. I was by turns sad and angry about this one. 

Red Envelopes: At the end of the day, dinner was with EM, whom I haven't seen in weeks and it was lovely to catch up. And of course she gave my grownass kids red envelopes with money in it for new year luck. Neither A's only sibling nor mine live near by so I'm glad and grateful for all the people who treat our kids as their niblings. 

Pic: Red envelopes for Nu and At today. Happy New Year of the Snake!

even the chipmunk does what it can...

One of my favorite bits in childhood retellings of the Ramayana is when Rama is building a bridge from the peninsular tip of India to Sri Lanka to rescue his partner Sita from Ravana who has kidnapped her. He has the help of his semi divine siblings and the Vanara army under the ace engineer and architect--Nala. But he also has the help of a little chipmunk who carries pebbles in its mouth to supplement the work of the huge army. Rama is so moved by the chipmunk's altruism, that he picks it up and gently strokes its back... and that's how the chipmunk got its stripes!

But the real point is that everyone does what they can to right a wrong. In fact, in some versions of the story, the chipmunk's pebbles cement the gaps between the giant boulders and are actually crucial to the structural stability of the bridge. I am reminded of this in so many ways. Two examples stand out for me today. One is StephLove putting her body on the line by protesting near the White House at the freezing of federal grants (the freeze has since been blocked by a federal judge). The other is a student who has been using their skill sets (English and Political Science) to annotate three significant executive grants so people can read and understand them more easily. 

Heroes. All the hearts. 

Pic: Huckie and Max, who clearly haven't eaten in days at the dinner table yesterday.

time after time

Time is remarkable. I was overwhelmed on Friday and the things I had to attend to seemed immense and insurmountable. Today, not only was I able to catch up to everything, but the things themselves could be despatched with a few breezy strokes of email... or so it seemed. Perhaps I've just punted everything to the near future? Time will tell, I suppose.

Anyway, it was busy, busy, busy. And part of that is pre-planning for my biennial travel abroad course to the U.K. And it's exciting and nerve-wracking. And some parts are icky. We're currently in the ticketing process, and I get to feel like a jerk asking people for their gender "as stated on their passports" like that has anything to do with anything. 

Pic: View from the bridge--this is the Red Cedar River frozen solid--people have been skating on it as the tracks show. Big A and I walked to breakfast to celebrate yesterday's anniversary this morning since he was working yesterday. That was quite apropos, because twenty years ago, we met up at a breakfast spot, and then walked across a bridge too.

“You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time.”

Angela Davis, whose birthday it is today, says we have to "act as if it were possible to radically transform the world.... and... do it all the time.” I'm ready.

It helps that so many others are doing great things. Amy Siskind has made a list of important pushbacks in the first week:

* 22 state attorneys general sue over birthright order. * Reagan appointed federal judge pauses birthright order, says it's unconstitutional. * GOP Sen. Mitch McConnell criticized Trump for pardoning Jan. 6 insurrectionists who assaulted law enforcement * Alaska GOP Sens. Murkowski and Sullivan criticize Trump for renaming Denali after McKinley who never stepped foot in their state *GOP Mike Rounds questions why Pompeo's security protection was taken away * GOP Shelly Caputo asks for clarification on disbursing funds from Biden-era IRA, which goes to builds road, bridges, etc in her state * ACLU sues the Trump regime to block expansion of "fast track" deportations. * DOGE is falling apart - Ramaswamy departs, and today Trump appointed DOGE counsel says he is leaving too * Sen. Warren and Rep. Jack Auchincloss calls for an investigation of Trump and Melania's digital coins * cryptocurrency players criticize them too, call Trump's moves "gritty and greedy" and of course heroine *Bishop Mariann Edgar Buddy calling out their misuse of the teachings Christianity to perpetrate cruelty.

Pic: From DeLisha Tapscott. I particularly love "Demand action that feeds your community's needs--not their agendas" and "Build connections that center joy and solidarity." Love.

I'm a breathless miracle

I've been describing this week as breathless. Even so,  not only am I not caught up, I'm behind on rec letters, editing tasks, household chores, emails, phone calls, and even texts. 

I guess the weekend is for catching up now.

And perhaps next week will be more reasonably paced.

Some of the breathlessness is sometimes literal as in an incipient anxiety attack. And that's not surprising given the onslaught of attacks from on high trying to erase every progressive win of the last fifty years. I want to push back with something bold and expansive, like the Black Panther Party's 10-point program, instead of simply reacting to what is being taken away. 

And also, I got LV into my favorite form of "distractification"--we're planning a post-Valentine's potluck in Feb together. Instead of agonizing over the latest developments, our recent texts have been about guest lists and menus instead. So when LV, who is an art prof, suggested we make "milagros" I thought it was a cocktail. But then he started talking about how miraculous it was and...  I mean... I like cocktails, but I thought calling one a miracle was a bit much. It turns out they are little symbolic votives--we're going to do a craft! 

Pic: That's not a pond, it's the river--and it's still frozen. I saw people walking across it late this evening.

"Do something every day. That can be something small"

This reminder from Gabriel Valdez was immensely helpful to me today. I wish it were published somewhere, but it isn't, so I'm saving it here.

"Part of the feeling of helplessness right now is this idea that you don't know some big thing you can do. But why would you expect that from yourself? Do something every day. That can be something small - a call to an elected official, getting a friend to call an elected official for the first time. It can be getting in touch with a local charity or volunteer organization. It can be reaching out to someone you know is already doing work and seeing what they might need, in that work or as an ear to listen so that they can go back to that work refreshed.

I want to stress this: These are all things you know how to do. These are all easy things. Remarkably easy things. Do one every day.

Your job right now is not to do the big shit that changes things. A stone is not a mountain on its own. Your job is to do something small but measurable every day that ensures you are not the one being moved off your norms, that ensures you are connecting to community around you.

And yes kindness and yes hope, but god damn it, you don't wait for those things, you make them. A job to be done still needs to be done, regardless of the measurement of your hope. You feel hopeful. Make a call. Reach out. You don't feel hopeful. Make a call. Reach out.

Hope is not produced in a fugue state. Hope is not produced by thinking about producing hope. Hope is the result of action, small, large, doesn't matter. Just matters that you do it.

Kindness is not the result of feeling kind, it is the result of what you do that is kind. Do something kind. Do something hopeful. And then you will be kind and hopeful. That's how it works; it's the only way it works.

You can't identify what needs to be done next if you aren't doing the simple things that can be done now. None of us is in a state to feel we're ready. OK. What's that matter? If you're packing for a trip, you aren't magically ready. You put shit in a suitcase first. If you run a marathon, you aren't magically ready. You train, starting with the small stuff. None of us is ready, but we understand readiness in every other facet of life as the small steps that get us there.

Readiness requires doing the things directly in front of you that get you ready. That's the job of the moment. Do it, or you won't be ready for whatever the hell the job of the next moment is, and that's going to feel a lot shittier than anything we're feeling now.

Things need to be done. Many of them are easy. Do one every day."

__________________________

Pic: This herd of deer was my welcome committee when I got home today. I don't know what was so delicious right there on the driveway, but they didn't want to move. I get no respect. 

"life is never just one thing"

I didn't see Big A at all today. He'd worked an overnight in Ann Arbor and I left for work an hour before dawn to make it to an 8 am meeting. By the time I got home after a late evening at work, he'd already left for work again. 

But to quote Connie Schultz, "Life is never just one thing;" other than that, it was a lovely day. 

We inducted new members to the English honorary and it's always such a delight to see students dressed up for the occasion and meet their families. I mean... you think you see your students grow in the classroom and love their work and the people they are and then you meet their families and it's a whole new level of understanding how much they're cherished, seeing the wonder their grownups have about these humans they have made in one way or another. It's kind of transcendent. 

Also, somehow I was going to place an order with the catering company and then decided to do it myself and found myself after classes at MacCurdy (the feminist house I advise) borrowing their oven to heat up trays of hors d'oeuvres. And also, I have the best colleagues... ok, the best women colleagues--who seamlessly did everything from setup to clear-up. The whole evening was busy and bright and social and fun--all the stuff I adore. 

And then when I came home I was so tired I couldn't even bear the sound of the loud TV show Nu (who had no school today and has no school tomorrow because of our frigid temps) had on. I just wanted to sit with my arms around my babies for while. Then Nu went to bed, I FaceTimed my sister for her birthday (it's already her birthday in India!), and then snuggled up to read with Max and Huck.

Pic: This treat of lovely words and signature shortbread was waiting for me after my first class today. I did work hard today, but this wasn't about that. It's from a lovely and private colleague in another department and says way more about their wonderfulness than anything it might imply about me.

"practice the art of resilience"

Many things did not go according to plan today--I got behind on a couple of tasks, my massage therapist canceled, I broke one of my favorite dishes as I was readying dinner, I burnt two parathas and also my hand, I accidentally heard a few snippets of news about the inauguration, and was surprised and saddened by news that Cecile Richards had died (that's when I lost focus and burned my hand, actually)...

But the title of this article played in my head like a mantra: "With their lives upended, they practiced the art of resilience." It's a story about a new exhibition at the Smithsonian featuring the work of three Japanese-American artists, two of whom had been incarcerated in internment camps during World War II. One of them, Miné Okubo, later wrote the book Citizen 13660 about her life in the camps--Big A's grandfather, Harold, was instrumental in getting that book published as she notes in the introduction. 

We'd been talking about taking a trip to D.C. to see the exhibition yesterday because of this connection... But also, I'll take every reminder of people going through terrible times and making it out to the other side. 

Pic: Nu showing me which kid they resemble on one of our treasured Miné Okubos--She gave Big A's grandparents a few of her paintings as gifts over the years they stayed in touch.

on the eve of an orange apocalypse

I've decided to pay the inauguration no attention. In my book, it's Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day--I will be observing events related to that. I feel flags should still be at half-staff in honor of Jimmy Carter's death. 

Like Robert Reich, who has lived through McCarthy and Nixon, I too want to acknowledge that tomorrow might be a terrible day, and I too believe that our resilience and decency will get us through. 

Connie Schultz on perhaps her last visit to Sherrod Brown's D.C. office today noted, "So much change coming for our country. But I heard our grandchildren’s laughter nearby and felt the hope in that. Life is never one thing." Life is never one thing. Yes, that's true as well.

Tomorrow, I have a ton of work to get through and MLK Day events to attend. I'm meeting a friend for tea. I have a massage scheduled. At is coming to family dinner; I'm making a family favorite--egg paratha rolls. Look how inconsequential 47 is to all of these good things. Instead of responding to the circus (that way lies madness and despair), my focus is going to be on building up community and solidarity outside the system. Soon enough it will be midterms with a chance to make governmental change.

Pic: L's picture from Saturday's Lansing Women's March in protest against the incoming administration. I had an admissions event at work and couldn't go, so L sent me pictures to show me what I missed. There are so many people who are working so hard on our side.

it's her birthday, and I don't want her to cry (or even want to)

My sister's birthday is coming up next week and I'm so excited for her to see my present: it's a pair of  necklaces--one with her name in Greek as a memento of our trip together last year and another with her name in hieroglyphics looking forward to our proposed trip to Egypt in a few years. 

But today I woke up to a text she'd sent me (just me, not on family chat) that her job seemed to be in jeopardy. She's already started looking, but she's at the very top (the next level is CEO) and thinks there aren't any openings. This makes me very worried for her (she loves what she does) and how it will affect her dynamic with her partner (I'm not a fan). And also, our parents are on her health insurance (it always boggles my mind that parents aren't considered family enough to be on your health insurance in the U.S.) etc. I'll certainly have to step up in many more ways if my sister's job disappears. 

Also, what terrible timing! It's her birthday on Wednesday! I know corporations don't know or care that it's your birthday, but it doesn't keep my sadness or outrage away. 

Pic: Today was another super long day, and it's still cold, with more snow on the way--but when I went out with Max and Huck after a few hours of work, the sun was coming up. I pulled my shoulders away from my ears, and pressed reset on the day. 

tipping our hats

Today, Nu was remembering a baby book called Go, Dog, Go! much of whose plotline (if we remember right) consists of one dog asking another if they liked their hat to which the other dog replies they do not like their hat. (So many hats, Engie!). 

We were discussing if this was (a) radical and friendly honesty--the second dog not liking the first one's hat did not cause any bad feelings or (b) negging--with the second dog keeping the first one on their toes so they would keep coming back. It occurred to me at that point that Nu had always been such a good liberal arts classroom discussant. And I'm so happy to say that Nu got into the college they wanted over the holidays. Given their first two rocky years of high school, this was not at all a given. But they've managed to overcome a lot of those early impediments (complicated no doubt by the pandemic and pandemic schooling) and even got a persuasive college essay out of it. Hopes and prayers for my Nu.

Speaking of things evolving to reach maturity, I remember taking At and a baby Nu to a conference on the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) in New York because I didn't have childcare. We had to leave early because, unlike At who as a baby loved going to classes and conferences (or at least was calm when I went), Baby Nu was having none of it. (There was an embarrassing moment where Nu arched their back and slipped straight out of the baby carrier--while I was on stage. It's a wonder I wasn't reported to the U.N.) Anyway, that conference attendance evolved into an idea, then a paper, and now is a book chapter that's coming out later this year; I'm Chapter 12.

Pic: The Portage River in the falling snow. I haven't been outside much in this somewhat breathless week, so this is still from the weekend's hike.

I tug on my seatbelt, I tap on this thing

 "Every day is a faded sign/I get a little bit closer/to feeling fine" Sheryl Crow "Everyday Is a Winding Road"

fifteen days in and you ask

~ how has your year been~ 

                            planes and cranes arrow towards

                            skies pale as paper, and as empty

here on our dear irreplaceable planet 

you say: Don't take things so seriously

                            so ok... maybe not completely empty

                            --you know the bare spots left under

random careless scraps in the garden-- 

that's me, I say--their geometry of loss

                            an aloof echo, upturned in farewell 

                            truly, I have no virtues except for you

_________________________________________________________

A ceasefire is the bare, fucking minimum. And I can't express HOW happy I am that we finally have that in Gaza. I wish this could have happened before any lives were lost... or in May when these same conditions were first negotiated...  but thank you, thank you universe for this reprieve. 

If you want to see something beautiful, here is a clip of Al Jazeera journalist Anas al-Sharif announcing the ceasefire deal while taking off his protective gear while the crowd around him literally carries him on their shoulders and here's another clip of children in Gaza dancing in the streets as news of the ceasefire spreads. 

Also: Cuba should never have been on the US's state sponsors of terrorism list, but happy, it isn't anymore.

Pic: This beautiful sunset on my way home... Near Olive Township acc. to my phone.

Pongal Sonnet

I've come such a long way

... north  I   now  celebrate 

this  Pongal  in  the   snow 

all  of  us  have  journeys 

I   suppose, we're all  from 

somewhere else as we know

like daffodils, not even Hindu 

still, here they are, little suns

intimate on the offering plate 

with the shakarapongal where

they  relate a welcome  flight

through pressure, sludge, ice--  

bright in the salute and shatter 

of our  planet's  feral sunlight

___________________

Pic: Late evening Pongal offering with Nu, Huck and Max. I took a picture to share with At who couldn't make it to pooja... Huck is dancing! 

not normal

The images of devastation coming from the California fires (in Winter!) have been so hard to process. Homes, memories, histories... wiped out... just like that. I can't imagine. And yet, of course I've imagined it happening to me, to us, over here. It's not difficult. We're all just one disaster away. I'm holding space and grief for all the people, land, animals, plants, water, air, and atoms affected by what was preventable. 

Today has been hard. I turned in final grades for the online Gaza course. Of the eleven students who had registered for "Literature Survey 2," just two graduated. I lost touch with the remaining nine, and hadn't been able to get a response from them in months. I will never know what happened to them. I imagine the best. I imagine the worst.

Of the two who graduated, D, promised to stay in touch "God willing, as long as we are alive, to learn from you." The conditionality was chilling. F, turned in work late once and apologized explaining that there had been internet outages and that their tent had been bulldozed. It made me embarrassed to receive that email. 

None of this needs to be anyone's normal. 

Pic: via Praxis-Archives 
#RestInPowerAaronBushnell

scribbling women, dogs walking, dog-writing, and bitches

When I first watched Bridgerton, I was struck by this remarkable line:

LADY WHISTLEDOWN: "According to the much heralded poet Lord Byron: Of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine."

And I meant to use it when I taught Women's Writing again (which is now). It is such a mash-up of Byron's famous misogyny, Hawthorne's hatred of "scribbling women" and Samuel Johnson's screed about women's composition--that it's like a "dog’s walking on his hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.” 

Also, while I was looking for the precise quote, I went down some interesting theory rabbit holes. While I was aware of Animal Studies, I wasn't aware that there was a specialized field of "dog-writing" that studies the intense relationships of women writers with their dogs (Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, Virginia Woolf, and so on). (While I'm no Woolf or Barrett-Browning--in our family, Scout is known as my dissertation wolf and Max is my book puppy. I don't think I could have gone on without their steadfast attention, affection, and presence.) The word "bitch" crops up with increasing frequency in the titles of these works about dog-writing: "Bitch, Bitch, Bitch: Personal Criticism, Feminist Theory, and Dog-writing" or  Writing with the Bitches, etc. 

It feels like I've come full circle with the Bridgerton quote.

Pic: Snow falling in the "portal," which what L and I call this corridor of trees from her house to the street.

Bending Meaning: Haiku, P.F.Chang, and "Peelings"

I'll never get used to hearing Big A talking on the phone to his colleagues and casually asking them to send him a haiku. Haiku is merely the hospital's internal secure messaging system, but it nevertheless sounds so charming. Although at other times I'm a bit stern and feel like if they're going to appropriate poetic terminology, they better be structuring their medical notes 5/7/5, you know?

*

Last year, Big A had a recurrent dream where Scout was accompanying him to a bunch of classes at Kalamazoo, his old undergraduate campus. In one dream, it was a poetry class where the instructor had displayed some of their published works on the desk at the front of the class. A can't remember the titles, but the poet's name was P.F. Chang--like the Asian restaurant chain. I wonder if Big A was thinking of Victoria Chang but was also a bit hungry?

*

I've been hearing this catchy Telugu film song on a number of reels and wanted to download it for my playlist. The song is about how the heroine is plagued by carnal feelings for the hero--"vochundai feelings-su" (I get these feelings). So I searched "Feelings" on I-Tunes, and nope, nothing. Turns out it's spelled "Peelings"--all the better to express the way it might be pronounced with emphasis in Telugu, I guess? Not really a word with a sultry vibe for me, however--it makes me think of dinner prep... or a skin condition.

Pic: The Red Cedar right behind L's house. From another walk this week.