beam me up, I guess

Now in Sarasota, FL, which is a (small) city. I don't know why I didn't know that or why I did not look it up. Whatever happened to my growth mindset?!

But here I am. Long journey--two planes. While we were waiting to board the second plane (we were in Group 8), they began boarding the first-class passengers. A student (only) half-jokingly asked when they would get to travel first-class and I really felt that. I held up my hands in blessing and said I hope it happens soon for them. (So long as they don't go into teaching, I guess.)

Typing this from a camp cot in a church dormitory. The fam was a bit concerned about me navigating communal living because I can be a bit princess-y, but I'm doing fine so far. 

We're supposed to do some grocery shopping for the week tomorrow. I want to make one or two dinners for the group...

I kinda miss Max and Huckie already. I would miss Big A, but he was on the verge of doing something I disagreed with, so I'm a bit mad at him.

Pic: Another crepuscular sighting!

visiting

A video call with dad and sis this evening. I was kind of saying goodbye as I don't know what the internet situation will be like next week. It was so centering to see them.... To hear my sister tell me that I should have a conversation with mom when I wake up on my birthday.

Can I just say how kind everyone has been?!? "Unfailingly" is the word that comes to mind. Family and friends. My community. They have helped me keep the important things going even when other things fell away. 

Steph recently noted that I don't seem to be out walking much, and that is so true! I rarely seem to venture out unless it is with someone. That's a far cry from most times in my life and I hope I'll go back to craving my own company.  

But also the kindness of everyone who stops by! I think often of Jenny's calendar of grief. And I've saved so many comments of comfort and reassurance in an email file that I open up to reread often. I read Jeanie's when I don't have faith in myself because she seems to and seems to know so much that I don't. So it was a treat to get to spend teatime with her.

Pic: The fabulous Jeanie with Max and Huckie!

in these vast hours

float the ghosts of ease 
ascend the essence of sweetness
mysterious peace has brushed me
where light echoes soft darkness
where stillness distills silence 
and the certainty of sleep

___________________________

I may get more than two hours of sleep tonight. (But all my grading is done!)

Pic: NM's busy bird feeder.

midterm thoughts

It's like clockwork how I adore my students by the midterm mark, and this term is no different. And perhaps requited in a small way? One of them wrote, "YOU'RE A GEM" after we'd resolved some tech issue. (I wanted to shout back, "I KNOW!")

Just finished a ton of midterm grading. There was some reminiscing in the answers about funny moments in class like when someone thought the squiggly lines in a document were redactions (à la the Epstein Files) and awesome ones when the class got someone to change their mind. 

When I write exams, I always worry if the instructions are clear. The only person who didn't get the assignment (as they say) was Big A. Huck has some troubling symptoms that could be a UTI (or something more serious). I went looking for reassurance... "It's not serious, right? It's just a UTI, right?" Big A: "Right. Or it could be bladder cancer." Facepalm. StraightLineFace. We have to collect more puppy pee for tests.

Off to the second half of the semester... summer (break) will be here in seven weeks. 

Pic: Sunset with Nu.

memoriam

Baby sis (whose birthday was in Jan) and I didn't feel we could bear to celebrate our birthdays this year. So we've put them on hold.

Starting Saturday, I'll be spending a week with United Way of Sarasota County (FL) cleaning up after Hurricane Milton as part of a college service break with students. It'll be filthy work all day and bunking at a local church shelter at night.

My mom would be slightly horrified at spending a birthday this way--she so loved luxury and soft things. 

But somehow it feels right to me. Not quite a celebration, more as a way of comemorating the gift of this body she birthed. 

In any case, it'll be different.

Pic: Mallards on the Red Cedar. Walk with AS last week.

playback

I know when that note sounds
and I feel touched everywhere
that anything could happen… 
anything bad

unbothered, not hiding its shape 

it is the obviously-wrapped gift
--a rock, a key, a boomerang
you already know

so I am this stranger crying until
it makes me stranger--becomes
my first experience of myself 
as only a memory

__________

A note apropos of nothing: It made me so sad to hear that James Van Der Beek who played Dawson in Dawson's Creek (a comfort watch back in the day that I started dipping back into during the pandemic) died yesterday (so young!) from colorectal cancer. I'm horrified to learn that two years of cancer treatment have left this successful celebrity actor's family needing a GoFundMe to pay for their children's education. The US healthcare system is brutal. [Also brutal, the look Big A gave me when I said Dawson had "battled cancer" because every obituary I had just read used that phrasing. I should do better.]

________________

Pic: The frozen Maple River. The temperatures look like they're going up--gloriously--so all this is going to be melt and runnels soon.

a book (+ the files)

A beautiful book, Sonya Renee Taylor's The Body is Not an Apology, for a bookclub via the college librarians. I've been trying to get students to sign up for it, but so far it's all faculty and staff. 

It's a 2018 book, so it's unaware of the 2026 avatar of horror... But she uses what she calls "The Donald" to distinguish beautifully between people who think highly of themselves and radical self love: "Even if we were to surmise that Trump and others like him are acting from an exaggerated lack of selfesteem or confidence, I think we can agree not much of their attitudes or actions feel like love." Absolutely!

Is anyone seeing the info being released from the Epstein Files? What is this horror? I have all this grief and anger about the children harmed (killed?) and how so many people who have patriarchal power in our society--presidents, billionaires, writers, gurus--seem to have been involved. And now... nothing. No accountability. No consequences. How have we not risen up to expel them? Why are clowns asking that we stop attacking pedophiles?! Why are so many university folks connected to this? Larry Summers has always been disgusting, but Noam Chomsky? Poetry prof Elisa New? 

Pic: That's supposed to the The Red Cedar, but it just looks like a a solid vastness of snow and ice. I miss when everything was brighter and warmer. Apparently, there's more coming. Do. Not. Want. Another snow storm. Another snowmageddon. I haven't even recovered from the last one. Walk with L yesterday.

Speaking up

Yes. Called my reps to share my thoughts about holding ICE accountable to court orders (they currently flout them) and asking for arrests for anyone who perjured themselves with regard to the Epstein files.

Yes. Noticed that teaching days on my projected Fall schedule looked preternaturally lengthy and would leave me with 12-hour campus days. Spoke to my chair and they're working on modifying it to something more sustainable. 

No. At a meeting (where I was the only person of color in the speaker's line of vision), they made a "joke" characterizing me as a "bad teacher." (Thoughts that flashed in my head: I love my students. I've won teaching awards. A student named the teacher character in their video game after me. Nicole gave a teacher my name in her novel. In all of the polycrisis of the last year, teaching is the thing that has sustained me, and the one ball I didn't drop. I try to be a good teacher, I wanted to say... Instead, I chuckled awkwardly.) 

Pic: It's so cold, someone put a jersey on the statue of Sparty outside the football stadium.

disjunction

It's like duh...              I do know what "dead" means             but then also... where did she go?             forever sounds like a trick              and so... does this mean          we can't talk again            (but we're always talking again)                      everything is costumed as a clue                          I follow as an amateur shaman           (also theologian astrophysicist)           with denial and love woven inside me              days keep ending; I keep finding ways          to wake them up again               it would be heaven if she were here             

                         that heaven I wouldn't mind her being in 

_____________

Pic: a gorgeous sunset on my way home... I'd never seen a column/beam/plume like that before. 

 

back to life

January is gone. It was cruel. 

It was a clusterfuck. 

Or to put it more politely, in a word I learned this year, it was a polycrisis, overwhelmed by bad news and hemmed in by uncertainty. It's not surprising that I kept trying to start and restart and kept failing. It felt like some part of me already knew... But finding out from last semester's class notes that this was the week (Week 5) when I headed home for the funeral was the slow-motion gut punch on repeat I did not need. 

But I'm here, so once more into the breach, I guess. 

Adam Serwer's piece in The Atlantic, had this absolutely remarkable passage I cannot stop rereading: "The secret fear of the morally depraved is that virtue is actually common, and that they’re the ones who are alone. In Minnesota, all of the ideological cornerstones of MAGA have been proved false at once. Minnesotans, not the armed thugs of ICE and the Border Patrol, are brave. Minnesotans have shown that their community is socially cohesive—because of its diversity and not in spite of it. Minnesotans have found and loved one another in a world atomized by social media, where empty men have tried to fill their lonely soul with lies about their own inherent superiority. Minnesotans have preserved everything worthwhile about “Western civilization,” while armed brutes try to tear it down by force." SO much yes!

And Tressie McMillan Cottom says about political exhaustion that sometimes it's not retreat and rest one needs but actually action and connection. That "sometimes we're not exhausted because we're aware of too much, we are exhausted because we're doing too little." The antidote, she says is to get involved, as "people who feel agentic aren't as tired." This is something for me to remember.

Pic: Baker Woods with L. I feel like the trees are nodding their wise heads over me. 

down and then a recharge

I spent Friday night in the E.R. with Nu (so thankful they're ok now), and there was another fatal ICE shooting in Minneapolis. 

My brain is fried, my heart is sore. 

Friday's meetings got shifted online due to the weather, so I absolutely did not have driving to the E.R. at 2 am in -20 degree weather with my car barely 50% charged in my plans. I made it with 8 miles left on the battery. But I found a charger in town and recharged.

I got a heart recharge too with bestie KB too. She spent two days here and I heard about her adventures marching with her fellow Minneapolitans, we talked our hearts out, and I have plans to see her again later this week, so it's not goodbye yet. 

Pic: Timeline cleanse. Huck, Max, and K. It was Max's first time meeting K, and he was all over her. 

love so ordinary

you have to shut your eyes to see it

that's when the day goes dark
running like a scar seaming 

into something close

I stop, blind as a person in a photo

coming to the raised edge 

of spectacle to gather 

you, mother

from vast violet evenings to say

goodnight, knowing I will 

endure--or at least see

you in the morning 

___________

Pic: Squirrels on the MSU campus... honestly, they seemed monkey-sized!

some warm thoughts on a frigid day

So far this year, the kid from Chicago has visited once and the college kid has spent two weekends at home. I squeezed them every chance I got. Not only did they squeeze me back, they're prone to special things like doing my chores for me when I'm not paying attention and bringing me treats when I'm working. They're consistently the best.

It's painful doing video calls with my dad and sis... because from my side of things, my mom's absence is so plain. It's difficult also because my mom was the chatty one on that side, the one with whom I shared books and shows, and now it's just the three of us being sad. 

My mom was so very chatty. I always laugh when I think of that one time At was on a phone call with my mom (maybe when At was 9/10 years old). At had been silent on the call for a while, so I whispered encouragement to say something, and At shot back, "I'm still waiting for Ammama to stop talking." Haha. Good times. 
______________________
Pic: A glimpse of The Maple River. Cold. It's going to stay in the single digits all week.

if meaning is made of anything

the air feels full of fussy messages 

from the future

every black pebble I gather whispers

reminders for later 

how easily your attention slips away

--a dancer in the crowd

multiplying me with mute mystery 

until I exist

for you might say the book is complete 

but I have a feeling 

I'll still imagine there are places inside 

where I can color it

____________

Pic: Max and Huck ready at the treat jar. We used to try to get them to ring the bell for service, but that didn't take.

a good reason to cry

Grief has a calendar. People have been telling me that it'll take a year at a minimum. And that other things like crying daily will change. I did not believe this to be possible, but it happened--I no longer cry every day. Even my weird nausea has mostly abated without medical assistance. I'm now in a new phase where it is "How have you been?" from someone I haven't seen in a while that makes me cry--because the last time I saw them, things were likely very different.

But this past week, I had a very good reason to cry. A non-binary elementary school music teacher was recently hired in the small rural school district to the north of us. Things were going well until there was the usual hate and outrage about kids needing to learn "non traditional pronouns" etc. At the public hearing, as a student relayed it, all this was shared in detail by two very vocal people. And then... over 70 teachers, students, parents, members of the community spoke up in support of the teacher. The school supervisor had always been supportive, but the Board could see in real time how much the community did not want to give in to hate. Here's something of a live report. I'm glad to have a "good" reason to cry.

Pic: Another amaryllis blooming: this is one I bought myself a couple of years ago from the $3 discount bin.

the three lessons

while I make myself legible to the world

my body, who has only one owner 

is learning to rebel 

someone holds the book, another gets to ask 

the question and I learn to answer 

without making things up

I am not a child, haven't been one for years

you teach me my past tense, I learn how

to bear being human 

________________________

Pic: Today's sunset along the Red Cedar. Late afternoon walk with Big A. 

making my own sunshine

Wow the first weeks of 2026... I saw a meme where someone said they didn't like the "trial run" of 2026 and wanted a "refund." I concur. 

I expected a magical reset, but have found myself absolutely scuttled by... sadness? reality? the news? I don't even know anymore. But I miss my daily writing practice. If I'm going to be sad every day, could I at least not suffer from sameness?

Yesterday was Pongal, my favorite reset to the new year, but it was so grey and dreary, there wasn't even a glimpse of the sun. I guess I'll have to make my own sunshine this year. 

But here's last year's picture of a dancing Huck and a sonnet, plus the prep and lead up and the Pongal before that.  

Pic: Amaryllis (a gift from O.M.) blooming profusely and boldly like orbs in their own solar system.

still on this

I am so sad the last words she may have heard as she died were "Fuckin' Bitch." I wonder how many women have heard those very words because someone felt enraged that their perceived power wasn't being obeyed and deferred to.

Pic: Lansing protest in honor of Renee Nicole Good. 

endings

1) Jeanie said something in the comments last week that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. She noted that 2025 had been a year of leaving for me. My mom died, Nu went away to college, and At moved to Chicago. Not all of it is as sad as the first thing on the list--I'm happy for Nu and At; this is the right thing for them. (And it helps that Big A and I are having a wonderful time by ourselves.) The way Jeanie framed this actually helped me, because after At's ex and my mom died within months of each other, I kept thinking some third calamity would befall us. Now here's a list of three, and I feel like I can exhale. 

2) It has been four months. On the family WhatsApp chat, which we'd continued to use since the avatar was a group photo with my mom, I guess the system has noticed there haven't been any messages from my mom in a while, so it posted that she had "left the conversation." My sister and I were very rattled by this. I keep sneaking looks at that screen and it's a gut punch every time. 

3) Engie marveled yesterday that we start school so early. Yes, but I take heart in knowing that in 15 weeks, this semester will end and bring me face-to-face with summer break.* I feel-hope-trust that sunshine will heal me.

* I usually end this sentence with "bitches!" in my head.

Pic: Grey, sleeting, and foggy--a terrible trifecta all day. (Not a B&W photo.)

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