missing, mixed up, and meandering

Thank you to everyone who sent good wishes to my missing students in Gaza. I hope it's just that they're goofing off. Also, can you imagine signing up for something like "Literature Survey 2: Romanticism to Post-Modernism," while being bombed and displaced? (I can't.)

I've been thinking about them all day and then those thoughts get mixed up with how much I love my human kids and my canine kids (I don't think I'll ever recover from losing Scout). And then about how when the kids were younger they'd get jealous because they could tell I loved my students. It's no secret that students matter a great deal to me and for the time they are in my care, I love them dearly and consider it an honor when I get to continue to be in their lives as a mentor and get to see their new jobs, and weddings and kids and reinventions. Someday, I'll be like Mr. Chips, my kids just lists of all the young people who have meant so much to me.

(And lately, as I get older, I feel waves of affection for young people in general. Babies and toddlers and little kids and tweens and teens obviously. But also random young people. Like the other day, I passed these two young women with their bags of Trader Joe's groceries and two-buck Chucks under their arms and just... I don't know... could see the evening they'd planned for themselves and was just overcome and hoped they'd have the best time.)

This is why I can't understand how we're going about our lives while children are being killed in the most gruesome ways. When there is so much visual evidence of it happening every day. 

Apparently, there's a video on the news now showing children being burned alive in a hospital. Children. Being burned. While alive. In a hospital. Every detail is a new level of hell. 

A whole year ago, I was horrified and the horrors have just kept multiplying and spreading. At the time, I quoted James Baldwin, "The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this is incapable of morality." And I love the strength and conviction of Baldwin's statement and simultaneously feel so helpless about getting my government (that could end this horror with a single phone call) to acknowledge it. I feel like a character from The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas protecting sanity and the status quo.

(In the meantime, I better go to bed, so I can do ok for my students who can show up. One of them wrote last week, "This class is my all-time favorite class if I could take this class over and over again I would. Everyday is a favorite moment." [unedited] I mean it sounds a bit Groundhog Day, but little did they know when they wrote that, that it would give me a reason to show up this week.)

entering the scene

still all these years later 

and probably always 

I will know how 

                     even in fall's dull decay 

                     even as I am emptied

                     how rich the world

how it reads many books all 

at once even as I strive

to get through one

                     I wish I didn't lose plots

                     as if I had holes in my 

                     hands and my head

I've even lost the character 

I used to be--who waits

for me to return

                     all her soul's myriad lights 

                     merely dormant mirrors

                     for right now  

________________

Note: I'm trying to escape. I'm playing word games in word worlds because things in the world are too horrific. Another refugee camp (Jabalia) and another hospital (Al Aqsa) were bombed today. The eleven students from Gaza who had signed up for the online course, "Literature Survey 2: Romanticism to Post-Modernism," neither showed up to our weekly class meeting nor responded to the class materials. If this were a regular class, I'd be worried things weren't going well, but in this extraordinary circumstance, I'm so worried something has happened to all my students.

Pic: Autumn colors and orange koi who came up to say hello. (Radiology Gardens; from a walk with LB. Big A and I took a walk right after this one. We got rained on, but stubbornly persisted for a full Super Sparty loop.) 

just look up

I'm not alarmed 

by the new 
today

                       forever is now

                       remembering  

                       is yesterday

cues alighting

on  our  lips

and eyelids

                       speak warnings/

                       seek welcome

                       like this

_____

Pic: I did it! Last month, I hoped to get a picture of geese heading out in a "V" and seem to have managed it. (Not perfectly, but I'm counting it.)

 

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.)

going on 17

Nu turns 17 tomorrow and they have plans with friends, so we had our family celebration today with pizza, cake, and presents. Nu rarely wants things, so we collaborated on a list of 70 songs about 17-year-olds that they loved. Steph, did something like this for North, I think? We weeded out the more letchy ones (there are so many songs about adult men checking out 17-year-old girls!) and tried to find songs that described being 17. The top ones: "Seventeen without a purpose or direction, we don't owe anyone a fucking explanation" (The Rock Show, Blink-182); "You won't be seventeen forever and we can get away with this tonight" (Seventeen Forever, Metro Station); "Pack me up and put me in a time machine, so I can remember when we were seventeen" (Seventeen, Four Year Strong). There are so many songs about being 17, and Nu thinks it has something to do with the number of syllables in "seventeen," rather than the age itself. Also: The grandparents sent gift cards and cash, this Pack Rat puppet who carries a knapsack might be their new purse, they have a new speaker for their room, and a snack box from Japan. 

Big A is working tonight, so he headed to bed after dinner while the kids and I headed out to see The Substance. It was a bit heavy-handed and the body horror was extreme enough to make me want to retch--but the kids thought it was all hilarious. What on earth have I wrought?! 

After we dropped At off, Nu started to play Imogen Heap on the car stereo. I don't even know how Nu found this music that's now nearly 20 years old... I internally debated whether I should tell them that I had always thought of "Goodnight and Go" as my song for A (not the stalker-y bits, but the "must you make me laugh so much" section and also the oops missed the train home part). I ended up telling them, and then they earnestly asked me if I would be okay "sharing" the song with them. I guess the kids are alright after all. 

(Whom am I kidding? I love my little humans to bits... I can't believe this may be Nu's last birthday at home.)

Pic: Nu's delicious (pumpkin cheese)cake looks like it has a hundred candles because there are candles spelling out "Happy Birthday" in addition to their 17 candles.

coming back around

Friends and family in the path of Hurricane Milton are beginning to "mark" themselves safe; I hope that continues. For right now, it feels lovely to be back home where everything is normal and human-sized (as opposed to thousands of feet tall or deep à la Arches and Canyonlands). 

And on my first full day back, these four beautiful encounters felt like blessings.

1) When I went to pick up the holy basil (Tulsi) plant from the people selling it, they turned out to be a South Indian mother-daughter pair who were so, so nice. The daughter was relocating to the U.K. and when I told them that I had done my doctorate in the U.K., she turned out to be an Oxford Alumna too. At that point, they--naturally--invited me to come in and have "coffee and tiffin." 

2) Although it was mostly an intro to their online tech and learning platform (Moodle), there was a sense of solidarity at the Zoom meeting for the volunteer Gaza instructors. (The initiative is led by Lille University in France and hosted by AnNajah University in Palestine.) I gulped when the admin said it would be good to record lectures because students may not have internet access or electricity at class meeting times. Most of the other instructors were men, so when I spotted someone who appeared to be a woman, I Facebook-friended them like it was 2006. Then KK and I had a heartfelt exchange about why we were doing this and swore comradeship. 

3) Finally, and for no reason I can think of, my masseuse AM decided to gift me today's massage. First I demurred, then I refused outright... but she shut me down by saying she knew I would respect her decision. This feels too, too much--massaging is strenuous work and a whole hour out of her workday is too generous. When I asked her, she merely smiled and said, "What goes around comes around." Which is inscrutable but fair, I guess. But she doesn't know much about me and I really haven't ever done anything special for her. (Although I clearly need to now. Ideas welcome.)

4) Pic: It's late in the year, but I think this is a fritillary? They were just soaking up the sunshine and doing that thing where they open and close their wings--as though in pure pleasure. I kind of felt like that myself at odd moments during the day. 

goodbyes and good buys

This has already been a longer trip than our usual getaways, and I'm glad to head home, but I'm also sad to say goodbye. I would never choose to live in this rocky, arid place that is astoundingly beautiful and we have no plans to return in the foreseeable future as we have no family here and there are so many more National Parks to explore. So this is a proper goodbye for now. 

Things that have been absolute lifesavers on this trip--sunhats, sunscreen, snacks, and a backpack hydropack (like Camelback). I may have to make an exception to my no-buy rule because I saw someone in the airport restroom who had a tote they were carrying like a backpack (it had both tote and backpack handles). And now I really want one! I've been a carry-on-only traveler forever, and I think I'd look more grown up with a tote instead of a backpack!

Also: I was embarrassingly in "little lady" mode on this trip. I'm usually an equal partner, but I was extra dependent on this trip what with my busted-up splinted finger and being unable to deal with lifting my own suitcase, not wanting to drive that beast of an SUV, and my freakout (freakouts? I'll never tell!) about falling. I hope this changes back soon.

Pic: Goodbye Colorado River! #LaterPost 10/10

more than words... or pictures

The vastness of Canyonlands is immense--I'm still not sure I get it. To me, Arches seemed full of towering bluffs. Canyonlands seemed like vistas of canyons set out thousands of feet below us (Grand View Point has an elevation of 6000 ft.) and then on that level, there are further canyons going down hundreds or thousands of feet more (or that's what it looked like from our distant viewpoint). 

Canyonlands National Park is 527 square miles so it can take an hour or double that depending on where one wants to enter. We went with the closer entry point, Island in the Sun, which is also where the visitor center is so we could get the kids their socks and our National Parks Passport stamped. 

We did three hikes today: Murphy Overlook, Murphy Point, and the hike around the rim from Grand View Point. The heights are dizzying. And it was a nice literal reminder not to gaze too deep into the abyss. As we walked, I clarified my limitations about hiking around heights. If I can trip full length and then pick myself up and carry on, I'm fine with it; I draw the line at hiking on paths where a trip and fall might mean I fall off the cliff. That's reasonable, right? The geological scale of the depths at Canyonlands was somehow particularly terrifying--it was as though one would be falling down aeons and eras. 

Pic: We took a few "ussies" with this view, but our heads were getting in the way of all this awesomeness. #LaterPost 10/10

it's... a lot

We did so much at Arches today: Devil's Garden, Landscape Arch, Double Arch, Windows (North, South, the Turret), Pine Tree Arch, Sand Dune Arch, Eden Point. Double Arch was unexpectedly mindblowing for such a simple walk. There are reportedly 2000 arches, and we've barely seen 10%.  

While at Panorama* Point, we decided to return to the park at night to see the night skies without light pollution. I wondered if we should ask a park ranger when the right time to come see the stars would be and Big A said he knew when... "after dark." Har Har. 

So we came back after dark... and goodness--I've never seen stars like that. They were so numerous, I couldn't even make out constellations--it was like I was looking at galaxies layered over each other. We just lay on the cold concrete benches in the lookout area looking up at the sky, holding hands, and marveling in sighs and silence and occasional exclamations. 

Pic: A and me under the soar of Landscape Arch. 

*Let me note that I always have to say this word in my head before I say it out loud. My mom's name is "Manorama" so I'm prone to mispronouncing "Panorama" to rhyme with mom's name. #LaterPost 10/9.

delicate like silly goose

Our hotel is right on a bend of the Colorado River, and it’s such a treat to see the water from our windows. I started the day with some leisurely yoga. We got breakfast in Moab and gifts for the kids (it’s always socks/tees plus a stuffie for Nu and a snowglobe for At as they have collections from their toddler travel days + treats for Scout/Huck/Max if there’s something special).

Then it was time to head for our reserved timed entry at Arches, and we did two amazing hikes: Delicate Arch and Park Avenue.

Delicate Arch is of course the iconic arch that is on everything from merchandising to UT license plates. Most of the way there, I was a monkey chattering away and scampering up the arid landscape and bald rock. But then I had a bit of a panic attack at the end of the hike as I clambered onto the crest and felt the winds buffeting me. I’d have to walk down to the arch, which is perched on the lip of a hollow, and I started imagining myself tripping or being blown hundreds of feet into the depths of the hollow. (I mean, the plaque did say people die on this hike every year—and it didn’t specify how.) And then someone's water bottle slipped from their grasp and fell into the hollow and I could see what a fall might look like in sickening detail. 

But... I really wanted to stand under the arch. Big A was fine with not standing under the arch if I didn't want to but was ready to help me get there if I wanted to do that (He really is a perfect hiking partner!). After a few minutes of sitting on the warm rock, I took courage from all the other people doing it, and we made it... very slowly (and probably comically). 

Pic: Big A and me under Delicate Arch. LOL at me clutching Big A in fear and leaning into him. I did warn the kind stranger who took this photo that I was going to be very slow getting into position. I like to think I'm delicate like a bomb, not a flower--but this time I was just a silly goose. #LaterPost 10/9.

Mars-scape

We took off early in the morning for a long day of travel. Two stops in Colorado (Denver, Grand Junction), and then we picked up a rental car to drive into Utah.

I started ooh-ing and aah-ing from the plane because the landscapes were so wild, rocky, and red—it was a bit like being on Mars.

(We found out early that the rental car we’d been “upgraded” was a big PITA—it was cool to climb into it via a running board the first time. But after that, every time I got into it, I felt a bit dirty—like I was going out to colonize some part of the world. It was way too big for just us and our backpacks and ALSO really difficult to find parking for it or to back out of parking for that matter. I immediately ceded all responsibility for driving to Big A for the rest of the trip.)

Our hotel suite was practically at the entry to Arches, so we took a quick trip through the park; I took hundreds of pictures and not even one came close to representing the breathtaking beauty and scale of what was before my eyes. We found some (Boss Day) dinner at the food truck court and then watched Will and Harper. We were tired and fell asleep at different times during this sweet documentary and had to fill each other in the next day as we hiked. Maybe we’ll watch it with the kids sometime? Half the movies on our family list of rewatches feature Will Ferrell, who AFAIK, is an international treasure. 

Pic: One of the many massive red cliffs inside Arches National Park. One of the hundreds of pix I took. #LaterPost 10/9.

a reflective break

We're on Fall Break, and I'll be back around Tuesday.

Pic: The Red Cedar from the walking bridge. Doesn't the sky seem bluer in the water?

 

comments and connections

Because of Nance's exhortation to vote hard for Langston Hughes, I found the work of Bruce Weigl through her comments. Here's his amazing and timely poem Autumn Leaves.

In other news, the Gaza course, which was supposed to start yesterday has been postponed to next week. StephLove had voiced concerns about internet connectivity in Gaza when I first mentioned it--and that's one of the reasons.  I hope they are able to resolve that issue. I also hope they're able to give me a little bit of a heads-up about which course I'll be teaching, so I can prep classes ahead of time.

I was so amused that Baby Engie's go-to fib for her hand injury in high school was apparently to claim it happened in a bar fight, according to a comment yesterday. While I didn't get into a fight, our team (Big A, me, + our friends SD and AH) handily (heh) won first prize at our local bar trivia (25$$$$$$), which we promptly used for our pizza and drinks.

Pic: We are the champions! Pictured here with our prize gift card before we spent it.

"punched a shark"

When a student asked me what had happened to my finger (Big A splinted it) and I started my boring story about the vacuuming, they suggested I just tell people that I "punched a shark." It's all well for them, they're from California, and where am I gonna find a shark in Michigan, but it's a cute idea :). 

My Spring term travel course to England is slightly over-enrolled, but I'm going to roll with that. I'm excited to start making arrangements... but my first task will be to update the Spotify playlist for the course. 

Also, what's happening in the world?! I took the weekend off for a sanity pause and we're basically on the brink of WWIII and my feed is full of apocalyptic images of flooding in Appalachia. I can't swim, so my empathy and horror are practically visceral. This world-life balance is an abyss, really.

Pic: I'm still in my work clothes, Max is curled into my side, Huck really thinks I'm going to play with their drooly toy, I set my passport down for a sec to take this pic... I was about to take a picture of my passport to send to my sis who is planning a trip for us in December. Everything will be better by December, right?

the making of things

"What is it like to eat an idea or its suggestion?"

It is the end of September     I feel the emptiness of the memories I forgot    but it's hardly a war     the heat is merely that of a kitchen    and I am fifteen and waiting   to transform ingredients into happiness     to make meaning with sweet triumph    I imagine my throne made with spoonsful of sugar   mean to spin jalebis airy as as asemic wishes     instead what I've made   clings to me like tears    my dad tells me    it's wonderful, it's wonderful     it really is wonderful, he says     but jalebis are proud as royal signatures      and what I have in the pan are droppings of batter     dad's hand lifts my chin   his other hand sketches in the air   name your dish after you make it, he tells me    he peers at the pan again    don't you see?    what you've made are the best "jalebi balls" I've ever seen    this is truly the best cooking advice        I will ever be given    to say what a thing is after it is done   the best writing advice        the best advice really

_________

Note: The quote is from RPT MC-60 00.27 8 by Tan Lin a poem about Wiley Dufresne's restaurant WD-50. We ate there once maybe 20 years ago? It seemed like a very New York thing to do at the time. (We used to go to fancy restaurants for lunch because the menu tends to be less expensive at lunch than at dinner.)

Pic: Across the fence, our neighbor's woods. 

painfully random

Yesterday at the baby shower (which I keep thinking of as the "party" for some reason and which it kind of turned into, I guess) a Cage The Elephant song started playing on the speakers and it really took me back to their high-energy concert... wait... was that just earlier THIS MONTH?! 

Quick check--and yes, it was on the 10th. Anyway, I didn't do much today except water all my plants, clean, and make dinner. But by the end of lugging the vacuum around two floors, I noticed my ring finger seemed a bit stiff. It was still hurting at dinner, so Big A took a look.

He thought I should take my wedding ring off before it swelled up anymore. So I did. And it feels odd to be without it. I don't wear an engagement ring, and I don't take my wedding band off at work, at night, etc. (Neither does Big A, actually.) Or it would feel odd if my finger didn't hurt so much. I have no idea what might be going on. Am I allergic to vacuuming, maybe? Too old to vacuum?

Pic: Big A and me at the Cage the Elephant concert, glassily waiting for the auditorium to fill. We got there way too early and were stuck watching a country opening act whose name I've since forgotten. Except Big A called them "Winona Sugarbush" and that I do remember.

Welcoming a little bean!

The baby shower today was woodland-themed, so it was supposed to be outside in our unkempt backyard, but despite my most frantic monitoring of the weather app, the forecast continued to call for rain, so I had to move the party indoors. 

Ah well. At least I didn't have to clean (our indoors tends to be fairly tidy), or set up outdoor tables, and could possibly get away with fewer decorations since the space was smaller (I guess I am a bit Pollyanna-ish sometimes). 

It went well. I'm so honored that I get to be part of the Ls's chosen family and do this for them and I just can't wait to meet their little bean!

While we were playing "Mommy or Daddy?" (the game where you guess which parent would change more diapers, take more photos etc. ) Big A and I did a quick retrospective check on our own days as young parents. We agreed on everything. (We're so weird.) We saved a few of the game forms for the next family dinner night to see if the kids can guess right.

Pic: Huck explores under the table as guests arrive. The fruit salad nestled in the watermelon pram with the pineapple wheels (made by the dad-to-be) was my favorite thing!

Five Things I Heard

1) We've been asked not to discuss the prison education program on social media, so going forward, I'll have to stay mum. I'll just leave this quote from a student in the program, "This is the free-est I have felt in 24 years." I haven't stopped thinking about this.

2) Drove past Nu at the school bus stop and was gobsmacked to hear them yell out: "Bye, Mama! Love you!" even though other kids were around. I mean... At never grew out of saying stuff like that out loud in public, but I thought Nu had! I'm so, so glad they've boomeranged on this!

3) At the Refugee Development Center Fundraiser this morning, I heard the Southside Community Kitchen Pastor say, "We have to help people. And we have to help even the people we don't like." I should always remember this.

4) I heard back on my manuscript submission from the editor (lots of good feedback). And then the publisher wrote back supportively, "This is a very, very important book!" I hope it all works out? Fingers crossed.

5) Listening to friends bickering over undecided voters: "Voting third party is a sign of privilege." "Actually, motherfucker, voting for genocide because it doesn't directly affect you is a sign of privilege." I don't know where to start with this.

Pic: Another beautiful sky on the way to work. The trees on the side look like hills... it reminded me of the psalm that goes, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help." I could use help.

what I should have said

I wrote to you a few years later
with congratulations on your 
powerful wounds

for your fate dressed as normalcy

for your pomp shrill and shiny

as new change 

you thank me for my ceremony
my choreography of care
in these small wars

that can bring only small victories

no, not even that--they bring 

only small feelings--

where lightness and excess play

with echoes from excuses

and fill with waiting 

_______________________________

Pic: I've consistently been late (only by a couple of minutes, but still!) to my Thursday-before-class-walk-meetings with KPB this semester, so my sole goal this morning was to be at our meeting point before she arrived. And I did it! It was such a gorgeous day... I will miss these bright blue skies when it's winter in Michigan. We're getting geared up for homecoming this weekend on campus.

And on we go...

As Alice Walker says: "The way forward is with a broken heart..."

I woke up early to spend some quality time walking with Max and Huckie and being silly with Big A, and went in to work a little later (it's not a teaching day). I also prepped dinner as I'd be home at 6 and that's too late to start prepping. That extra time I took for myself in the morning was so good for me. I saw a little red Corvette on the way to work and got there on a song. 

(Not to jinx it, but) My class prep is always meticulous, so yesterday's teaching went fine, but there were other things I had been too distracted to do in the last couple of days (make arrangements to observe a colleague's class for their portfolio, finalize calendar invites for a couple of work meetings, materials for the prison class, materials for the Gaza University folks, progress surveys for all my classes, etc.). I did all of that today. And I wrote the Dems about the death penalty.

And I focused on some life-affirming stuff: Wished my cousin T for their birthday, designed the invite for our Diwali gathering (Nov 2), and ordered the cupcakes for the baby shower (this Saturday!). 

Pic: While at the bakery for the baby shower cupcakes, I picked up these adorable cutout cookies for Nu. I could hear my mom's voice in my head--"First take care of the ones at home."