everything is... connected

Robert Reich, one of the more public, progressive, pro-union voices, has been a source of hope for a long time. I have been especially grateful for him this year for his posts like "Ten Reasons for Modest Optimism" and statements that have become mantras to me: we are the leaders we've been waiting for; we can maintain decency in a time of monsters; courage is contagious...

I also feel connected to Michael Schwerner. Ever since I accidentally walked into a dusty storeroom in a house in the middle of Ohio--a house we would later live in--and found a picture of my fellow compatriot, Mahatma Gandhi, twinkling up at me. It was a picture of Gandhi on a certificate awarded to Michael Schwerner from his early years at CORE (The Council for Racial Equality). Michael "Mickey" Schwerner is, of course, one of the civil rights workers killed during the Freedom Summer of 1964 along with Chaney and Goodman in the case that garnered national attention and helped hasten the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Our house in Yellow Springs had belonged to Steven Schwerner, Michael's older brother and Dean of Antioch College who had moved away to Brooklyn to be closer to his grandkids. I kept finding traces of Michael Schwerner's presence in that house over the years and felt the jolt of his idealism every time.

So imagine my shock when Robert Reich mentioned that because he'd always been bullied for being short, in school he'd relied on kind older kids to protect him and one of those kids was "Mickey." Yes, Mickey Schwerner! He goes on to say that when he got to college and found out what had happened to Michael, he "began to see bullying on a larger scale" and credits this as the beginning of his insight into and involvement with social justice. It's amazing how just one well-lived life can ripple out across time and space and influence millions of others. I did not know that two people I thought of so highly were connected in such an immediate way. Rest in Power, Michael Schwerner.  

Pic: The woods at the back of the house have begun their greening. 

trash turtles all the way down

I was worried about a dear friend who'd had open heart surgery last week. It made me feel a little better when I got to see their dear face while I dropped off some medication I'd picked up (they can't be alone, so I could either stay with them while their partner picked up the meds or pick up the meds while their partner stayed with them). 

I hadn't heard a peep out of my mom or sis for a whole day. So when the phone rang around 2 am, just as I was putting the puppies and the house to bed, I freaked the fuck out because I thought something was wrong with either my friend or my mom and dad. But no, it was just my mom calling to chat. I think she was a bit thrown off by DST too? Anyway. 

After that, I kept trying to read myself to sleep. Big A was at work, and then he texted to say he'd been attacked by a patient. That was it for sleep last night. I was so sad and worried for him and made him send me pictures and cried over all the scratches and bruises I could see.

And I got to hear the whole story today... I am sad for the patient suffering a psychotic episode in prison and then again in the hospital. I am sad for the security guard who gets paid minimum pay and is expected to put his life on the line--he got attacked first and Big A was trying to help him him when he got attacked too. There are no villains here. It's just awfulness all the way down. I'm just thankful there were no guns involved.
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Pic: This made me laugh when I went thrifting this weekend because I needed new books for our Little Free Library (I got some awesome ones). I didn't get these books. They both have the same title--One Bite at a Time--it's just that they couldn't be more different in content: one is a book of recipes for cancer survivors and their caregivers and the other a collection of horror short stories!

bookends

I woke up to see that a writer friend had tagged me in her exhortation to read more books in 2025 because she'd used a picture of our Little Free Library. And of course the week has been full of various enjoyable year-end roundups of reading lists. Then Lisa wondered about my top books of 2024... The thing is, I don't have a digital record of my reading. Reading is what I've always loved doing but also kind of my work work. So it never made sense (for me) to quantify my reading by hours/pages/titles. When I read for pleasure, like other things I do for pleasure, I tend to do it rather whimsically and for as long--or as little--as I want to. It's not very efficient. But that feels perfect to me.

Lisa's question made me curious, though. So I went to check on my scribbly physical planner, where I usually note what I'm reading "for fun" to compile this top-12. (I think these titles are a mix of 2023 and 2024 and are in no particular order.)

Ta-Nehisi Coates, The Message; Catherine Newman, Sandwich; Paul Murray, The Bee Sting; Percival Everett, James; Kaveh Akbar, Martyr!; Sally Rooney, Intermezzo; Fady Joudah, […]; Tony Tulathimutte, Rejection; Emma Cline, The Guest; Yiyun Li, Wednesday’s Child: Stories; Tania James, Loot; Elliot Page, Pageboy: A Memoir; Teju Cole, Tremor. (Fun fact: Teju Cole used to comment on this blog a very long time ago.)

Pic: OM's Facebook Reel of our Little Free Library. I did a quick search, and this is the first picture of it in the snow, I think. I love that our neighborhood keeps it so well stocked. It used to be all my responsibility in the other place where we had it from 2012-2016.

A beast and some beauty

It was a beast of a day. The college board has decided that with declining numbers they'll need to cut 33 full-time positions to stay fiscally viable. The sense of panic and grief was constant at today's faculty meeting and at most of the meetings leading into it. Tears, gallows humor, anger... I saw it all. 

On top of the lowgrade panic of the election, this job uncertainty feels almost unbearable. The plan is to announce the cuts by December 15th, which is apparently the deadline the AAUP suggests so people can begin to look for jobs for the next academic year. (But also, with the state of higher ed, what jobs?) 

The two bright spots at work were completing some more paperwork for the prison class (I always procrastinate on paperwork) and a mood-uplifting meeting with my student, faculty, and staff sisters on the Women's Board.

At home, it was Nu's actual birthday, and they seem kind of lit up from within. Heart eyes. 

Pic: The evening sky on my way home from work. The wind turbines and the cornfields make this so innately mid-Michgan. (I cropped out most of the car--I know, I know, I shouldn't be taking pictures--it was just so pretty though.)

affective vs. relational

When I was sitting with JG at her synagogue yesterday catching up on weeks of news and gossip, we--naturally--started chatting about the election. She's an expert in communication, so she was telling me that while phone banks, yard signs, and postcard campaigns have "affective" worth in that they make the people who participate in them feel good, they don't really convince other people. The only thing that convinces other people and might change votes is reaching out to people in our networks--using our "relational" connection is the only way to persuade people to vote for good. 

Now that we're here. The thought of a Trump presidency terrifies me for all the obvious reasons. And I'm now worried about the possibility of large-scale electoral college swindles. And also, the daily psychic exhaustion of the ongoing genocide in Gaza is immense. At this point, in less than a year, over 350,000 people have died in horrifying and preventable circumstances. The excuse people make for other genocides--"but I didn't know"--doesn't work here. We can look away, but we cannot dare say we didn't know. 350,000 people. This is not normal. This is not a natural disaster we couldn't prevent; on the contrary, we have participated in and precipitated this by sending the bombs that killed these people. Most of us don't want to and yet, despite being a democracy, our government continues to defy us. Which is connected to why I'm not thrilled that that Fucking Dick--Cheney is ostensibly on the same side as me. How is his endorsement a good thing? Who's next? Pol Pot?

Anyway... Deep breath.

Pic: This blurry pic from, as FB reminds me, 16 years ago gets me every time. Big A is home after a 24-hour residency shift at Bellevue and is still in his hospital scrubs so he's not touching the baby--but Nu's delight in their dada is clearly reflected in their shiny eyes, toothless smile, and squishy dancing arms. 

an unexpected red carpet

We took a 40% pay cut when Big A moved his job back to Michigan (I always count it as worth it!), so we've been discussing selling the house to downsize. (It does make me sad, but also... there are way worse fates in the world, and our dilemma pales in comparison.)

We've been holding off as Nu is headed for their last year of high school, and it would be too disruptive to move to a different school district at this point. 

It's worth noting that when we moved to this house, there were six humans (both kids were home and my parents lived with us for six months of the year). This house would be way too big for just A and me. On the other hand, we love this house and its happy memories so much and would be happy to stay here until the kids move us to a retirement home. We'll have to see how things shake out. 

Speaking of retirement homes, Nu told us with a straight face at dinner that when the time came, they'd be putting us in different homes because "you two together are too much." Both Big A and I pleaded and offered all kinds of silly bribes, but no--it will have to be different homes. I mean... I know it was meant to be funny, but it made me really sad to imagine living out my final days without A. And I was already in a bad place because of a sad book (Catherine Newman's We All Want Impossible Things).

Pic: Our walk through South Campus was disrupted due to construction. The construction crew has kindly put down a reddish tarp to indicate the detour, and it looks for all the world like an unexpected red-carpet experience.

Oh, the places I've been...

StephLove and NGS were curious about the list of places on my bio, so here goes. Actually, that list is somewhat abbreviated and I had to add a couple more places for continuity. Also, I count places where my sister and parents live as a dual home as well, even if I only visit for a couple of weeks here and there. 

1. Madras (Tamil Nadu state), India: Birthplace. In the traditional way, Mom moved back to her parents' seven months into her pregnancy to have me. Dad visited us every weekend.
2. Cochin (Kerala state), India: When I was around three months old, mom and I moved (back) to where Dad worked.
3. Vizag/Vishakapatnam (Andhra Pradesh state), India:  We moved because of Dad's job. This is where my sister was born. We attended Timpany School.
4. Madras (Tamil Nadu state), India: We moved back to Madras where both sets of grandparents and our vast network of cousins and family lived. I went to Holy Angels Convent and Sacred Heart schools and graduated from Stella Maris College.
5. Kodaikanal (Tamil Nadu state), India: I taught at Kodaikanal Christian College for a year after graduating.
6. Columbia, S.C.: I went to the University of South Carolina on a terrific teaching assistantship, making more money than I had ever earned in my life up to that point.
7. Jerusalem, Israel:  University of J; Grad fellowship
8. Utrecht, The Netherlands:  University of U; Grad fellowship
9. Princeton, NJ:  Institute for Advanced Studies; Grad fellowship
10. Chennai (Tamil Nadu state), India: My birth city changed its name...
11. Columbia, S.C.: Back for a bit; At's born here.
12. Oxford, U.K.  Went to the University of Oxford for my doctorate on a scholarship that paid almost as much as my current salary. 
13. Delhi (National Capital Territory), India: Sis and parents moved to the capital city for a couple of years for sis's job.
14. Bangalore (Karnataka state), India: Sis and parents moved for sis's job. They're here now.
15. New York, NY and Springfield, NJ: Big A's residency at NYU; finally married Big A; Nu's born in NYC; started this blog.
16. Yellow Springs, OH: Big A's hometown, we moved there after his residency for his first job as an attending. 
17. Alma, MI: We moved for my job; adopted Scout and Huck
18. Lansing, MI:  Moved as Big A had a fellowship at U of Michigan and Lansing is halfway between Alma and Ann Arbor; adopted Max.

I really don't want to move anymore!

Pic: Puppy attack! Max first and Huckie right behind.

the ones we live with

Big A gave me a big Buddha statue for Christmas in 2015. When I sat the Bodhisattva outside the front door of our old house, Scout and Huck lost their minds and barked at him all day. He's weathered now from being outside in all kinds of weather... and when we moved to this house, he sustained an injury. A quarter-sized hole opened up in his thigh and we realized he was hollow inside. 

(I'm realizing this is a strange story--Buddha at Christmas, the puppies losing their calm around him,  him being hollow rather than fully filled [fulfilled] etc.)

Anyway, I love coming around the bend and seeing him every time I get home. And I love that a chipmunk family has been living inside him for years now (the hole in his thigh is their front door).

Today I managed to get a picture of one of the naughty chipmunks (they always dig up the planters on the front porch!) playing with Buddha's topknot. 

Pic: Front yard friends--a chipmunk on the Buddha. 

people all over the world

Our roundtable went well. It's part of a larger project, so it was great to know that other teachers were interested in having this conversation as well. 

EM and I treated ourselves to a poke bowls for dinner and then headed off to our rooms for quiet time. I'm loving my grown up quiet time.

But suddenly I started thinking about how my fam is currently spread out across three states (me in Indiana, At in Michigan, Big A with Nu, Scout, and Huck in his apartment in Wisconsin) and sleep fled. 

And then I started thinking about my parents on the other side of the world in Bangalore, my sister on her vacation in Goa, my mom and her sisters heading off to Pondycherry for the pooja soon, and so on and so on... I stayed up for a a long time. I'm hilarious.

Pic: Big A's pic of the pups in bed in Milwaukee.

"I saw the sign(s)"

A midday stroll with JG today and this was her front yard when I drove up--a veritable forest of election lawn signs! It includes at least two of our colleagues from work too. As always a lovely chat and I left feeling loved and full of ideas.

Back home lots of hangout time with Big A whose "Boss Day" it is and whom we'll have to  return to the train station and thence to Milwaukee Saturday morning. 

All these trips to the train station really remind me of residency days when Big A worked at Bellevue and I'd put two kids in the car to pick him up at the Summit train station. Seven-year-old At used to call those trips "midnight adventures." 

Now here we are again 16 years later, thanks to the magic of there somehow being 25 Emergency Medicine residencies in MI and only 2 in WI. We've come up with a plan (wish?) to renegotiate his contract for the next academic year... And although all of it is a long ways off, it's a hopeful sign on the horizon. 
 

I got the cider and then I cried

I started the day with a good cry because my bestie KB left today. She's going to MN to be closer to her parents, and this will be good for her professionally, and it all makes sense, and we even have plans for November... but... it still hurts.

I grabbed some doughnuts and cider for her road trip up north a couple of hours before I was due to teach, and we chatted and cried and commiserated about all the stuff happening to us/around us. And then we were laughing again until she said something about being "long gone" in response to something and I started weeping again.

I won't post our tear-stained 'ussie', but I want to remember happier times and our long walks on the bike path.

Pic: KB's tweet which was followed by some sappy E.T. references from both of us.

Wordle to the rescue

 Wordle scores are really worth nothing, but somehow they turned out to be super important to me this summer. 

This summer has been a time of disruption: Big A's new job in a different state (WI since June-July); Nu's health (ER in May and June, outpatient all July); stalled house and roof repairs (since May and ongoing). I want to acknowledge how these big things led to lots of secondary issues: I got no significant writing done, my garden and garden plans were obliterated, bills are mounting, ditto anxiety, and on and on. 

Wordle to the rescue. Turns out that at least once a day, I can control and solve something. And Big A and I use the same starter word, so there's an unofficial competition. I currently hold the family crown for solves in the least number of moves--solving over a hundred games on the third move. I see my stats and give myself a moment of applause.

what could be

One more day at the reunion, and then we left for home a whole day early as Nu is (and hence we all are) in the midst of an unrelated crisis.

We managed to fit a lot into the 24 hours we were in YS, though. Peaches yesterday for reunion drinks, Glen Garden for flowers for Big A's mom with whom we were staying, Toy Company and Dark Star to keep Nu occupied, planned hangouts like the one pictured, and of course all the random running into old friends and neighbors. 

It's difficult not to feel a bit of nostalgia for the YS years and wonder...Will we ever move back there again? What might our lives have been like if we'd stayed?  

in the war for trans existence

Big A's claim to show-biz fame is that he was in a play with Dave Chappelle. A middle-school play. That he got kicked off of--Big A, not DC--for being mouthy. 

I liked the Chappelle Show, and I loved Block Party. When we moved back to Big A's old hometown in 2008, I remember being faintly star-struck about seeing DC everywhere. His older kids were in At's range, his youngest is a year behind Nu. Then he became just one more familiar face; it helped that he and his wife E were unfailingly kind to everyone. E "loves" when I post FB pics of the kids; I swoon when she shares pics of award shows. 

But I haven't watched any of his Netflix specials after the first one--it just didn't even seem him--not the funny Neal Brennan Chappelle, not the kind Yellow Springs Chappelle. I vaguely remember a joke he told on the first one about two gender studies profs he has coffee with regularly and how all he's thinking about when they're talking is that he'd like to fuck them and I kind of checked out after that. 

And now the constant TERF war. RainOfTerra's tweet thread broke me and then I messaged LA (possibly one of the afore-mentioned gender studies profs in YS) around 5:15 am with a link and asked if she or anyone else could reach out to Dave. Her reply started with "Ugh, Dave." and ended with "So I will share this and see if any of Dave’s friends can speak to him in any way he can hear, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope."

And I wish I could do more.

moving to the future

my arms are crossed behind your back
my fingers are too
as though we're raising a stout hammer 
to a sickle moon

I can only watch through this rapid door 

the holiness of 

infancy, childhood, school's odd certitude

and uncertain youth 

your smile now a secret scroll of prophecy 

close to breaking

lashed in ritual errancy and exhortation to 

a city of last resort

and your keys to a kingdom of possibility

yet you share, sweet child--

as you unbar our door to swing open yours--

so warmly, a spare set

'C' is for Sibling

Nu took the box part from a boxed set of thank-you cards and created a lovely 3-D photo frame for At's birthday.

The box was originally plain blue, and Nu painted the grass, flowers, stars, and crescent moon, propping up the photo on a toothpick so you can kind of bobble it.

I thought the moon was a 'C'--and when I asked what it was for, Nu looked me straight in the eye and deadpanned: "it stands for sibling" before breaking into giggles.

I love every part of their creativity.

[I remember when we took this picture so clearly--we had just moved to Yellow Springs at the end of the 2007-2008 academic year, and were visiting Grandpa R and Grandma C. It may have been Nu's first time in a hammock. At is 9; Nu < 1. Taken on my Nikon DSLR, which I loved, but haven't felt the need to use in years now...]

Sophomore year

Hugged immoderately, embarrassed repeatedly, loved immensely, and all moved in for the year (on his Boss Day, no less).

We'll all miss him but Nu and Scout on a visceral level. (Huckie bear don't care.)










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What do you recognize?

S posted this picture yesterday, and I loved the doggo. 

Then I realized I knew the backdrop to the picture
intimately. 

It was three kitchens ago,
and kinda my favorite kitchen 

ever.

UPDATE: At got the connection right away. "It's because I spent so much time at that table trying to finish my food." 😂
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Woke up like this

Came home to news that 

he'd gotten into his first choice

(with a bunch of scholarships)

last night.

SO much celebrating

until we went to see 

Logan and then cried 

all night.

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A snippet from today

Nothing is the new normal.

But my kids are lovely.

We now live an hour away from work/school. And Mondays are especially long. At takes a course at the college, so we're here for 13 hours (8 am to 9 pm).

Today, I picked At up, we got our overdue flu shots, we got supermarket sushi, we got Nu from her Girls on the Run meeting, and had dinner in my office.

At was droning on about some election geekery. Nu and I looked at each other and simultaneously started humming Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" while At rolled his eyes. So we hummed louder and with flourish and Nu grabbed a chopstick and started air-conducting. It was a small, sunshiny spot of the usual crazy in an otherwise rushed and sad time.

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