UDL teaching workshop this morning--I was learning a lot, and contributing a lot. After watching the short documentary clip about kids with ADHD, I told a story about my babyhood that made the classroom go "aw" and chuckle. Except that after everyone had returned to the work at hand, I kept seeing my mom as an earnest new parent and I just... shut down and had to leave the meeting early.
(The story goes that I was not a good sleeper as an infant. I was hyperactive--and from six months onwards--very talkative. When my parents brought it up to the pediatrician, they said that it was probably because I was very brainy and constantly at work. That was so smart of the pediatrician, because it immediately mollified my parents and they never complained about my weird nocturnality again.)
Pic: Long walk-and-talk with JG in the afternoon. I inscribed two books (the Trans book and the poetry anthology) for her. I updated the annual report last night and was struck by how my scholarship, mentorship, and service for this one year would be a decent tenure-deserving record in most places. And the reason I'm having uncharacteristically braggy and uncharitable thoughts like these is because I'm so disappointed at work right now.
Yesterday I finished Sigrid Nunez's The Vulnerables in which after joking about how there are no ugly flower names people can name their kids, the protagonist nicknames a pandemic roommate with whom she is saddled "Vetch" (as in the weed).
Later in the day, trans friends talked another friend out of cosplaying a Harry Potter character. The friend said she wanted to "signal to people that I love the character, but reject JKR." And trans friends online said that every bit of visibility adds to JKR's support and coffers and that anyone engaging with the Harry Potter universe is tone deaf and ignorant at best and violently transphobic at worst. And asked how love of a fictional character could matter more than the real people she loved being harmed by JKR. Fair point. (This in addition to the racism, fatphobia, slavery, and other bigotry rampant in the HP books, of course.)
Because she seemed so crestfallen, I suggested Ursula K. Le Guin... she is genuinely wise, wrote tons, has several universes, is a gender visionary (The Left Hand of Darkness!), and the Earthsea Series is great for young readers. Then I reread the first book in the series--A Wizard of Earthsea--and was amused to be reminded that Ged has a friend called "Vetch."
WHAT are the odds of two Vetches in one day?!
I find myself thinking of Aaron Bushnell, Tommie Raskin, and Aaron Schwarz, randomly, And I looked it up and they all kind of fall under the umbrella of altruistic suicides. Long ago, when I told bestie KB about my teenage habit of anorexia brought on by world famines, she told me about Simone Weil (KB has a religious studies background). I know what the undertow is for me here.
Norman Morrison (Vietnam objector), Bobby Sands (IRA activist), several Tibetan nuns and monks, and the Tunisian street vendor who set himself ablaze and set off Arab Spring* are some of the others mentioned in the Wiki article.
Anyway, my idea was to start a collage of "suicide saints" for my altar and Big A found the idea repugnant. He actually shuddered.
Of course Sylvia Plath and Kurt Cobain are in my thoughts a lot too. They're probably in an artist category with Van Gogh...
*My dad loves that line from the Tamil poet and freedom fighter Bharathi, a blazingly idealistic visionary, who says, ""Thani Oru Manithanukku Unavu Illai/ Enil Intha Jagathinai Azhithiduvom” (if a single person doesn't have food, let's burn down this world).
Pic: "Funambulist-Wire Walker" by John VanAlstine. Sculpture on MSU campus.
I knew I was in a different phase of my life when songs became about other people in my life. Once upon a time, I would have been the "little girl" in a Depeche Mode song. But when toddler Nu was in a timeout, this part in "Enjoy the Silence" seemed so much about them: "Oh, my little girl/All I ever wanted/All I ever needed/Is here in my arms/Words are very unnecessary/They can only do harm.
More recently when my amazing student KS did a thesis on The Power of Protest Music and Cosmopolitan Themes in Hozier Songs, I kept imagining meet-cutes for them and Hozier.
And this is so weird, but the Ariana Grande song whose second verse begins "And I know, and I know, and I know she gives you everything/ But, boy, I couldn't give it to you" has a chorus that reminds me of Scout and brings me to tears since the time I first heard it on the radio and paid attention... "So one last time/ I need to be the one who takes you home/ One more time/ I promise after that, I'll let you go." What I wouldn't give for one more time with Scout!
Pic: The Red Cedar.
Gratiot County CASA Awards Luncheon in the afternoon, where they very kindly gave me another award... I'm both moved by the acknowledgement, and self-conscious--I'm just doing my little bit! In the last two years, I've received three awards for CASA work. For someone like me, it's a lot to hear people say stuff about me, make an acceptance speech, etc. The real heroes are the children, IMO.
And in the evening, we were guests of CD and JD at the Refugee Development Center gala for a tour of the new facilities and the ribbon cutting. Big A could see my immediate impulse was to give up everything and devote all my time to teaching refugees English language skills, and began counseling prudence. I'm going to volunteer over the summer, at any rate. The testimonies from the kids brought me to HAPPY tears over and over again. Among the awardees for good citizenship were a pair of third graders--one giggly, one serious, a ninth grader from Chad who dressed up for the occasion in a suit, and a high-schooler who shouted out all the suffering countries including Palestine, Iran, and Lebanon.
Pic: The actual ribbon cutting. It was so fun to see people from different spheres of my life up there--church friends, legislators, our family physician's spouse, colleagues, etc.
It's Amma's 80th birthday today. I spent quite a long time at the temple. My sister made her a mango cake, I made her a kulfi with pistachios, cardamom, and rosewater. For the past couple of years in the lead up to this big birthday, she'd been joking that I would not make it home for her 80th birthday celebration as I had done for my Dad's 80th. She would set me up, teasing me about loving dad more than her--just so I'd profess my love for her above all else and promise to be there with her today. This turned out to be such a not-funny joke.
For my dad's 80th, I flew to Bangalore to surprise my parents. My mom was also on her way back to Bangalore after visiting my sister who was on assignment in Amsterdam. And... BY SOME AMAZING TWIST OF SERENDIPITY, we were both booked on the *same* flight from Frankfurt to Bangalore on the second leg of our respective journeys . I called the airline and arranged to sit next to her, and I started to moo like a cow (one of our silly joke things) as she approached the row... SHE WAS SO BOWLED OVER when she found me! This picture is us reunited on that plane; She looks a bit dazed from the surprise and has her hand wrapped so tight around my upper arm... What I wouldn't give...
I set up for our Zoom appointment in the same place where mom and I had taken our last photos together and showed up alone, because I didn't want anyone else's overly rational energy around. I'm not sure I could completely turn off my own rational mind either. As it was, I wondered if I was being told what I wanted to hear--that she was at peace, is always proud of me, and always loves me.
But then, she said also that my mom is worried that I haven't been as social as I used to be and why haven't I been doing the things I love--like walking by the water by myself and writing. That took me by surprise, because those last two things seemed fairly specific to me, and also true.
I took myself off on a long walk as soon as we got off the call. I was told swans would be a sign from my mother. Mom frequently mistook geese for swans, and we now have geese year-round, so I guess I'm in luck. She said nothing about Scout whose third anniversary was yesterday.
Pic: Redbuds in bloom by The Red Cedar; the floods have receded.
United Way doesn't work on Sunday. Okay.
We ended the day with dinner at a restaurant and sharing reflections and expectations for the upcoming week.
I really do hope that they work us hard tomorrow... I need to be so tired I can forget.
Writing responses to the comments from yesterday, I realized I'm the one likely to be a nuisance to other people's sleep schedules. The camp cot, noise, etc. don't faze me as when I'm tired enough and need to sleep, nothing can stop me, thankfully. It is the bathroom sharing that I'm such a princess about. But I'm handling it.
Speaking of princesses, Huckleberry Pup's lab results came back and it's just a UTI! (Yay?) Big A has been having a tough time getting her to take her meds though.
Pic: I adore this pic of food democracy in action as the students carefully consider each purchase picked for the communal grocery cart.
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!
these evenings: concerts, movies, friends open beach, live oaks, flowers spilling bells with no alarms the cherry tree dropping shade to mak...
