lining up

Grief has been crippling lately. Meditating at the altar in the middle of the night, seeing Scout and my mom side by side, I found fresh regret for not knowing that mom was going, for not being able to say a final goodbye--the way I was able to with Scout. If I had known ahead of time, I could have flown to Bangalore. 

Past me must have decided that I needed to do more things, because my calendar has been jam-packed.

But current me had to deal with an Urgent Care trip for Big A on Tuesday (Long Covid is no joke) and an emergency vet trip for Huckleberry on Wednesday (waiting on results) and had to cancel some previously made plans.

But I still got to see Lucas Zelnick perform today and see the world premiere of Sally (based on the experience of Sally Hemmings) yesterday. 

Pic: A bunch of us at Sally; I'm nicely nestled between friends.

Dial F for flaky

It's the middle of the night so I can't text to apologize, but I just realized that I absolutely flaked on Saturday yoga with J! I didn't even remember when I texted her today about something else. 

And I somehow napped through my alarm for my video call with dad and sis. I blame the "Oscar Mule" I had at the cinema with my galentines for that. 

(We went to see Wuthering Heights, which ended very disappointingly for the literature nerds amongst us [kinda halfway though the book before Heathcliff does the more Heathcliff-y things]. I think there has been some buzz about casting a white person as Heathcliff [he's supposedly Roma/Lascar]. But also they cast an East Asian and a South Asian in leading roles and the songs were by Charli XCX [who's half Indian] so it's not malice, at least?)

Pic: Dial M for Murder with Big A at Williamston Theater yesterday. It's so tiny intimate.

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.

Ok, I've been sick (but here's kindness, smiles, and a speech)

I did bring back an unwelcome souvenir as Nance called it, but I believe I'm on the mend. I had to cancel class (can't remember the last time I did that!), but I got plenty of rest and read like a demon.

Loved this essay on receiving kindness titled "How will the Miracle Happen Today." Travel writer Kevin Kelly writes about receiving kindness from strangers all across the world, frequently people who have little to start with. I don't know where I would be without the kindness of strangers... I still think of the office cleaner in Madras 25+ years ago who wanted to share their paper cone of peanuts with me as I waited for my ride because I was visibly pregnant. ("maybe the little one is hungry" Oh, my heart <3) 

All of it is worth reading, and I bookmarked this bit: "My new age friends call that state of being pronoia, the opposite of paranoia. Instead of believing everyone is out to get you, you believe everyone is out to help you. Strangers are working behind your back to keep you going, prop you up, and get you on your path. The story of your life becomes one huge elaborate conspiracy to lift you up. But to be helped you have to join the conspiracy yourself; you have to accept the gifts."

For more smiles, this NYT article, "The Evolutionary Brilliance of the Baby Giggle" really delivers. Turn on the sound for a pick me up! This part blew my mind in a lovely way: "Indeed, this idea — that laughter is primarily social, less about comedy and more about connection — holds true for adults as well, and has been underscored by research showing that laughter overwhelmingly occurs in the company of others and typically follows banal remarks in conversation, rather than in response to jokes or punchlines. The signature belly laughs seen in the video above are involuntary, bursting forth during genuine, uncontrollable amusement. This type of laughter is driven by the brain’s limbic system, structures crucial for emotion, memory and motivation. But by 6 months, our lab has found, infants can intentionally produce a laugh. This ability comes not from the limbic system but from the brain’s language areas and emerges at the same time as babbling. Six-month-olds will deploy laughter to prolong a game of peekaboo or to signal a desire to join in." This made me laugh in delight!

And on social media, I was pointed to this amazing moment on the Stephen Colbert show, where Sir Ian McKellan (around the 20-minute mark) launches into a rendition of a monologue by Sir Thomas More known as the strangers' case speech. First penned by Shakespeare in 1603-04  (for someone else's play) it asks what the anti-immigrant rioters would do if the king banished them for their rebellion, where would they go? They would become refugees themselves: "what would you think/to be thus used? This is the strangers' case/And this your mountanish inhumanity." How relevant for now.

Pic: The more the merrier. Max and Huck with "cousin" Abby at brunch on Sunday.

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. 

Minneapolis goodness

What a day! Labor and faith groups led a general strike in Minneapolis--thousands upon thousands marched, hundreds of small businesses closed for the day. It was just inspiring to see streets full of people braving subzero temperatures demanding ICE get out of their city. It really revitalized my faith in people power.

Over 600 faith leaders from all over the country showed up, and I saw pictures of them on social media protesting at the airport trying to shut things down so deportation flights couldn't take off. 

Another good thing out of Minneapolis--Bestie KB is coming for a visit this weekend! I hope her flight out of MPLS is able to take off!

Pic from In These Times.

babies as bait

What are we doing?

Why is a literal five-year-old in ICE custody? Why has been taken from Minneapolis to San Antonio? Why not hand him over to CPS in his home state? 

School officials say he's being "used as bait" to trap members of his family. I can't get over that thought or terminology. It feels like my heart is being shredded.

Pic: Liam Conejo Ramos with his pre-K Spiderman backpack and his floppy-eared hat, and a middle name that I keep translating to "bunny rabbit," and a little face that looks like he's trying so hard not to cry even as he's dwarfed by a huge van and a portly ICE goon.

Is this the criminal ICE claims they're getting off the streets? Do we all feel safer now?

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.

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. 

public sightings

1) At the MFA student reading yesterday, I was reminded of the many things that are right in the world. Young people are creating poems and stories and journals to host other people's poems and stories and brave voices are finding themselves and amplifying other's voices (one poet read Renee Good's poem). I especially loved seeing old student CW's new work. 

2) JN took me to a drag show on Wednesday (I blew off grief group to go), and I met my first Drag King, Prince Marsallis. I love Prince, so the name in itself was a delight.

3) FYI, If I was out in public and you yelled out “pedophile protector” I would not think you were talking to me because I’m not a pedophile protector. I've decided that I'm going to use this to introduce interpellation in the Critical Theory class.

4) Aw! Someone tipped me off that on a new webpage titled "Best Decision Ever" that asks students why they love the college, a student had named me, saying,  "I’ve never met someone so passionate and caring for students."(I love my students and I'm glad they can tell.)

Pic: From the Jim Daniels reading last week. He's an alum of the college, taught here (before my time), gave the commencement speech at At's graduation, and teaches in the MFA program, but yesterday was the first time I was actually introduced to him. He then proceeded to talk my ear off (I didn't mind at all).

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. 

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. 

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.)