a kind (of) bereavement

 

            our old house has new folks 

                       and so... now we are ghosts

              no one sees although we lived

                    here barely 12  years ago 

         morning  mists cling  to  us 

                        ghostly as nights of regret 

             our older selves are yet silent, 

                      uncertain, unknown outside

            we find we forget to exhale

                         are reminded there are no 

             songs in sighs and although

                          not quite death, cold-ness 

                 takes away our breath, leaves 

                          us to mourn a different lack 

                 of warmth despite being back

__________

Note: I felt a bit strange walking on our old street in Yellow Springs early in the day. I think I imagined that a neighbor or two would be out and that we'd have a warm impromptu reunion. I had plans with friends later in the day, but wanted the chance encounter too! Speaking of friends, I'm ordering a few copies of Rebecca Kuder's Dear Inner Critic Workbook to give as Christmas presents. 

____________

Pic: Our descent into Glen Helen for a long hike yesterday. Back in the day, when we lived across from the Glen, I feel we solved many of our parenting dilemmas and disagreements over a walk through these woods.

Out in the world

Grandbaby is out of the NICU and headed home! The parents are keeping photos off social media, so no pics here, but she is so, so adorable.

My Nu went out into the world for the first time in four days… to Urgent Care with Big A where they spent hours waiting to be seen and then fell asleep in the triage room. They have pneumonia and now have antibiotics to help them get better. Fingers crossed. 

 

Also, my cousin/aunt (depending on which branch of the family tree you follow) just published her novel--the first in a series of Neena Sundar mysteries titled A Pre-Med(itated) Murder. There's more on her homepage.  I love how people I love are just going ahead and making their writing dreams come true.

 

I had a meeting with my publishers today and they talked me out of my post-election-panic-induced decision to write a new foreword to my book on trans rhetorics. They think it's time for this book to go out into the world. I don’t know… It feels like a very small hand raised against the coming deluge.

Pic: Baby Nu asleep at Urgent Care. This is somehow so characteristically our plucky Nu and yet so small, lonely, vulnerable... and now sickly—it made me sad. I’m so worried for the kids. StephLove mentioned her nightmares about having to shelter and save kids—that’s where I am too.

"The Only Way to Survive is by Taking Care of Each Other"

Nu's fever spiked to 102 degrees, the grandbaby was still in the NICU, the skies were as gray as the consequences of the election looming over us... I dragged myself out for a walk hoping to clear my head.

When I checked the mailbox on my way out, I found a treasure trove: postcards from Engie and bestie KB, a just-because gift from SD, and a bookmark and button from LB--each with a feisty message to remind me we're going to fight and that we're not alone.

Yesterday, while in Detroit, I got posters with the Grace Lee Boggs quote, "The Only Way to Survive is by Taking Care of Each Other," to put up at home and in my office... and this was my beautiful community taking care of me. 

Time for me to pay it forward and pass it on... I have such a mental block about going to the post office, but I'll learn to get over it.

Pic: A collage of today's goodness.

CAP-ital

 

Nu is better; the grandbaby is here! (But in the NICU, so haven't seen them yet.)

And I had a nerdy time at NWSA. 

One minute I'm squealing because I just saw a conference friend, the next I'm squealing in my head because I saw a feminist icon. It was terrific to be able to say "land back" or "cite Black women" or wear Palestinian support without controversy. It was terrific seeing former students--especially JV, who came all the way from Kalkaska. 

Both my panels went well. Really well, actually. My first panel with EM on "Critical Connectivity" was in a plenary room and it was quite full and very engaged. The second on "Narrative Medicine" was at 5 when people usually head off for dinner but it was still well attended.

Pic: And of course SR and I took our annual Madras Madcap photo as we have since 2017. (We both had some college years in Madras and love wearing hats, so we bring hats to wear for this photo--not a stretch since it's usually in November.) She gave me the bracelet I'm wearing, it's made of an engraved coconut shell.

Socrates on my mind

Well, Socrates was on my mind this morning because I had to drive over an hour on my way to work to pick up a present for Big A's birthday and the town I was picking up from was named "Hemlock." The only reference for hemlock I've ever had is that it was the poison used to execute Socrates in prison. (Why did they name their town that?!?)

And that was the other reason I was thinking about Socrates--prison. Because today was my turn to be in the classroom with the incarcerated students. I'd picked pieces that had been written in prison as readings for today (by Malcolm X, Dr. King, Mandela, O. Henry...) and planned to talk about what each of the authors was in prison for, and how long they'd been unpopular in the public sphere. (It still freaks me out that nearly 70% of White Americans disapproved of Dr. King the year before his assassination and that Nelson Mandela was on the U.S. State Department's list of terrorists until 2008.) As it turned out, my background check didn't come through in time, so I didn't get to go after all and my visit has been postponed to December (maybe?).

I was so disappointed. I know Socrates isn't considered a stoic, but stoicism is what I should aim for right now? (Also, it might help me fall asleep? It's 4:36 am... when will I sleep tonight?)

Pic: My reward for driving along Michigan rural roads early this morning was this aureate sunrise.

"exchanged"

"May she is not her daughter. Hospital exchanged" [unedited]

I got this text from my mom last night as I was getting ready for bed and I couldn't understand it. Sometimes when my mom types Hindi or Telugu words autocorrect changes them into English and really messes things up, so I have to guess at her texts sometimes--I'm used to that. But I showed this one to Big A because it was so strange, and he got it right away and I was SO impressed... he knows my mom and all her quirks so well! 

(I was trying to highlight my mom's quirks and couldn't decide whether to point out she likes the rapper Nelly or she likes to tease me or she loves to hear me sing or that she has the most unorthodox views of marriage and Hinduism or her pre-marriage days or her fighting days with my dad or how I feel my relationship with her was cloned in a novel after we'd had dinner with the novelist. Yes, I kind of went down a rabbit hole after I searched "mom" on my blog.)

Anyway, the background to that text is my mom's baby sister was widowed earlier this year, and although my aunt had wanted to live by herself, the family pressured her to live with her only child who appears to have put themselves on my aunt's bank accounts and then kicked her out. Big A interpreted my mom's text thus: "Athamma is saying your shitty cousin is not your aunt's real daughter, and that your aunt was given the wrong baby when she delivered at the hospital." I mean, what would it matter--my aunt had brought up my cousin, but yes, that is what my mom was saying. And my mom was so proud of A for figuring it out. 

Pic: This one made me cry. Max was hanging out outside and when I went to find him, he was curled up by Scout's memorial. He never met Scout, of course, but we do sound the wind chimes on our first trip outside every morning, perhaps that's why Max is feeling good vibes there? Or maybe (just maybe) Scout lingers there somehow? I swear--every morning, the tree-of-life solar lantern flickers when I sound the chimes... 

"A Man Was Lynched Today"

Another tough day today. I'm in tears and so tired as I write this. 

This morning on my way to work, I heard on "Michigan Minute" that today marked Michigan's last death penalty in 1830. Stephen Simmons was guilty, but his final address was so moving that it led "Michigan to become the first English-speaking government to abolish capital punishment." It made me proud to hear that, and it felt like a good sign. 

I didn't sleep at all last night. (Max and Huckie were delighted I spent all night with them, Big A was mad, and if the timestamp on some of my internet comments seems weird, this is why.) 

My mother would say I was importing other people's troubles into my life. And I guess that's true in a way, but also isn't that the point of being human? I'd never heard of Marcellus Khalifah Williams until about ten days ago when the Innocence Project and the NAACP began bruiting the news that this innocent person was about to be executed by the state of Missouri despite evidence of innocence, lack of DNA proof, prosecutor's admission of racial bias, and dissent from the victim's family. The death penalty is always a human rights violation, but unspeakably evil when it executes innocent people.  Even the prosecuting attorney filed a motion to vacate Mr. Williams's conviction. But the M.O. Supreme Court and the U.S. Supreme Court both failed to stay his execution. M.O. Governor Parsons (who previously pardoned the racist couple who brandished guns at BLM protestors) received over 1.5 million petitions to pardon Mr. Williams in addition to calls, emails, and faxes, (including some of mine over the past week). But he merely disconnected his office phones and allowed Marcellus Williams to be executed at 6 pm central time today. 

The title of today's post comes from the title of NAACP's statement after Mr. Williams's execution; it is in turn based on their iconic, anti-lynching "A Man Was Lynched Yesterday" flag.

Pic: This is the poem Marcellus Khalifah Williams wrote recently about the children of Palestine. How humane it is to be at death's door oneself and express solidarity and love for others... It reminds me of how in 2020, in the wake of the George Floyd protests, the Palestinian people would tweet all the way from across the world, sending BLM protestors tips on how to avoid/recover from tear gas based on their own experiences. I love when we support each other... Some day I hope we will all be free. In the meantime, we must hold our democracy accountable. I noticed today that the Democratic Party, which previously opposed the death penalty, seems to have quietly removed that part from their 2024 platform. That's where I'm going to start. Tomorrow. 

birthdays, bookstores...

I got to bed before midnight most days this week--progress! 

I did stay up well past midnight by accident last night, but it was just as well because I got to wish my dad in India a Happy Birthday bright and early. (It's also Chairman Fred Hampton's birthday and Mary Shelley's birthday, so he's in a very special club.) He didn't put his hearing aids in, so we didn't talk for very long though.

At the end of the first week of classes, things are going well (I think). I already know everyone's names--that's kinda my superpower so far. And the older I get, the more adorable I find my students... it was so cute when one of them made up a song to remember how to spell my name. 

It's also EM's birthday and the birthday of the independent bookstore in town so I stopped to pick up some book gifts and was gifted in turn with a lovely heart-to-heart with D.D. who still ministers to my soul although she no longer works as a pastor. 

Pic: My sister (with whom my parents live) sent me this pic of dad at breakfast and it made me miss my dad extra: our old hours-long conversations, his smiley face the way it was.

watermelon and chocolate chip

Story 1: I'm embarrassed to admit this, but when the term "watermelon people" was used online last week, I bristled because I thought it was an anti-black slur. Apparently, it's anti-Palestinian. I'm bristling.

Story 2: Today I saw our new theater director standing by themselves in the cafeteria and as I started to introduce myself, she told me she remembered being introduced to me in the parking lot when she had her campus visit. We ended up having lunch together and while we were saying goodbye I marveled that she remembered me from that one interaction all those months ago (March? April?). And she laughingly said, "Oh, I remember you, Chocolate chip!" LOL. She's a person of color too, and we are a PWI. 

Pic: The beautiful watermelon earrings Rev. KPB gave me this morning!

six on Sunday

1. The girlfriends and I were supposed to see It Ends With Us this weekend. I'd even persevered through the book with its weird use of language.  (Although I've since learned that the author didn't get to go to college and has written several novels anyway--so you go, Colleen Hoover!) But all the mean girl drama around the movie's release soured it for me. So I bailed and then everyone else bailed as well. NGL, I really wasn't looking forward to seeing DV enacted on the big screen.

2. Wouldn't you know it, as women began to call for justice, instead of demanding justice alongside them, Indian men got all defensive and started to protest that it was "not all men." The awesome comeback has been "perhaps not all men, but it is ALWAYS men." Word.

3. We got a new mattress and when we were cutting it out of its plastic packaging this morning, I accidentally nicked it with the box cutter. I apologized so much... and Big A was so... magnanimous telling me not to worry about it. Later as we set it up, I realized his side had three or four nicks. Dude!? Why didn't you say something? 

4. There was a Not Another Bomb gathering this afternoon downtown calling for an arms embargo. I think there would have been more people there if not for the rain. There is an online petition circulating as well.

5. I thought I'd use the summer to fix my broken sleep habits, but I've been going to bed later and later and usually at 4 am. It'll be a relief to revert to going to bed at 2 am now that I'm back to work tomorrow. And as LV just texted to say, "Nerdy admission of the day: I’m kinda excited to see everyone tomorrow." Same!!

6. Pic: LB wanted to try my Evening in India menu, so I scooped a couple of tablespoons of each dish into the tiny jars I bought long ago for food prep but never got around to using. And then all 12 jars nestled perfectly in the crate my tomatoes came home in. I just feel so happy about how this turned out.

"cruel optimism"

My problem with the meds reminded me of Lauren Berlant's cruel optimism--in that, the thing that I was doing to make myself feel better was actually making me feel worse.

I gave myself the day off from editing to hang out with At. We're down to one car (because of our fender bender a couple of weeks ago) and Big A needed it to go give a talk in Ann Arbor, so I took a Lyft to At's place, and then At and I rode the bus everywhere. 

I got my pre-semester haircut, and then we went thrifting and hung out drinking tea and talking about what we'd read. I've put Andrea Long Chu's Females on my to-read list. I think it's a book meant to be disagreed with (meant to be disagreeable?) but it's very short. I had to chuckle at At's current playlist, which had the theme from The Battle of Algiers in honor of Imane Kheleif's Olympic victory and lawsuit. As Imani Gandy said, I hope she gets that "wizard money."

Big A picked me up from At's and we got home just as Nu got home from "kickstart" where they'd gotten their picture ID and senior year schedule. Max and Huckie were relieved to see everyone again and it reminded me that those poor babies have NO IDEA that school starts up next week...

Pic: At and me at the bus stop! We got there way too early for the bus because I was anxious we'd miss it. (Can I say... I'm glad At is so skilled at navigating Lansing's public transit system and that Lansing has such good public transit for such a small city, but also that it makes me sad to think of At waiting for the bus especially when the weather is bad. We've offered to buy another car after they totaled the car we gave them (as has my mom), but At's refused, and it's probably safer all around. But still...)

joy ride

for E.M.

our car crawls through I-96 

and idle light

we race through conversations

wondering 

at coincidence and serendipity

of finding the exit 

for "Baldwin Street" just as we 

gush about 

James Baldwin's centenary  

or of seeing 

"Dayton Freight" just as we were

discussing 

a time at the University of Dayton

So... now fired up

by our "power to manifest" 

we tidy up earth--  

call out all we want: world peace,

an election landslide,

an end to poverty... and billionaires,

humane higher ed...

It's as if we believe in the madness

in ourselves

as we believe in the hopeful darkness 

cradling stars

___________________

Pic: The Red Cedar through the grille on the Spartan Bridge.

you probably *should* read this

Bestie KB wrote a novel and it arrived in the mail today. 

Nu had a sleepover last night, went to the Mint Festival in the afternoon, and then watched a movie at someone else's place in the evening--was basically gone all day--so I curled up with Huck and Max and read KB's book from cover to cover... it is so, so good. I know all our friends are reading it with bated breath to see if we show up... luckily, we don't (with one satirical exception, IMO).

Pic. I took this photo when my copies arrived. I posed KB's work with that other Minneapolis treasure... and I think there's a reference to "Raspberry Beret" on page 229 just for me.

you probably shouldn't read this

you probably shouldn't read this     I've said it all before        I get through another day          it piles up and becomes a life         what can be said       you've seen it all yourself       another school was bombed today in Gaza         Al Tabin School        I watched it in words         but there are pictures if you want it          can you bear to see another photo of dead siblings huddled together under the rubble       who picks up the bodies and the pieces of bodies      the guts       the hearts     the ashes    white phosphorus buries itself into the body and burns all the way down to the bone like a firework        it is sick         I am sick          there's a great sickness in this            there's a sickness in doing this       and a sickness in a world that allows this to happen         we know this is happening       how have we not shut this shit down          I fall on the same rock         I beat against the same rock             massacre       genocide       holocaust        the words are not enough          and also the words are so old and immense             they sound a bit like I might be misusing them                    like I might be exaggerating a bit               I'm not                     I feel self-conscious for saying the same thing over and over           186,000 dead after living through this over and over and over     I feel I might go mad       I go mad      I feel myself going mad      I keep saying words that have no power           they have no power   they move no one             they have no power   nothing happens after I say them           they have no power   they cannot answer the blinded child asking "why do they do this to us"        I am an adult in this world this child lives in        I bear responsibility      I am American and my taxes pay for those bombs       I bear responsibility         they will never forgive us for reminding them they are human

___________________________

The wonderful June Jordan said all of this and so this beautifully back in 1982 in an unpublished letter: "I claim responsibility for the Israeli crimes against humanity because I am an American and American monies made these atrocities possible. I claim responsibility for Sabra and Shatilah [sic] because, clearly, I have not done enough to halt heinous episodes of holocaust and genocide around the globe. I accept this responsibility and I work for the day when I may help to save any one other life, in fact." The whole article in the LA Review of Books about Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, June Jordan, and Palestine is awesome.  

midwest represent

We had a visit from Engie today. Huck and Max *loved* her; Nu and Big A automatically looped her into the ribbing and silly jokes around the dinner table. Engie has the prettiest toes and sparkling quips and tried hard to get us to follow "dog" rules. I loved hanging out with her solo later and we took a long after-dinner walk to Beal Gardens before saying goodbye.

It felt like meeting a dear long-lost friend... it was meeting a dear long-lost friend although we'd never hung out in person before. I love all the ways we can connect in the world.

(Also, this is Engie's 20th year of blogging. I helped celebrate by writing a guest post on poetry a few months ago and forgot to log it here.)

Pic: Engie and me--our hand signs are supposed to rep the midwest (MW). Pic by Nu.

the news... and nourishment

Heartbreaking news about Alice Munro... and tragically one reminiscent of the world she evoked in her fiction where children are betrayed and damaged by adults (plural!) who were supposed to care for and protect them. I hope Andrea Robin Skinner finds peace and experiences continued healing.

and

Unfathomably soul-crushing news from The Lancet (medical journal of record) warning that conservatively, "the true death toll in the Gaza genocide could be 186,000 or more." And that this "staggering figure amounts to 8 percent of the population of Gaza. A similar percentage of the US population would be 26 million people." I'm coping through a cocktail of hope (there has been an increase in public support for Gaza including from the French left--the surprise election winners), drugs (including OTC Ashwagandha), busy-ness (deadline after deadline), and the loving support of family and friends.

Pic: Some of my farmers' market haul from this weekend. I used the summer abundance for dinner today--ratatouille, which I served with focaccia (also from the market) and tzatziki. Our meal was already solidly Mediterranean, repping French, Italian, and Greek foods, so I cut up some Valencia oranges to add Spain to our dinner mix.

an easy hang

A lovely day-spend with the lovely KPB. 

I joked to KPB about how I finally sent off my work because I had to get ready to hang out with her today and how she was helping me check things off my summer fun list too... Today: A walk though the Rose Garden, Baklava at Sultan's, and a meander through the Broad Art Museum's new exhibits.

Bestie KB set me and KPB up when she left to go live in Minneapolis.  So KPB reminds me a little of being with KB (they even have similar names and initials)! But KPB and I have lots in common and today was just an easygoing ramble of chatter and jokes and shared positions on things that matter. And new ideas--now I want to get a glass-cutting tool and work with old bottles.

Pic: "Angel Soldier" by Yongbaek Lee (2005). In this hanging video installation, there are soldiers wearing flower camouflage moving ominously through a vista of artificial flowers. It's their movement that gives them away, so they're difficult to detect in a photograph. (But if the photo were a clockface and you look in the region of 10, you can kind of see the muzzle of a gun.) Broad Art Museum today with KPB who came down from Alma for the day.

just press send already

I should just press send, but I'm finding so many excuses to hang on to my manuscript. 

One main reason being I can still find things to tweak and improve and cite and... and... and... every time I  open up a random page. How do professional writers do it?! (StephLove?)

It's 3:30 am, one more run-through, and then I really will send it. I swear. I didn't even go to the Juneteenth thing I was supposed to go to...

The series editor to whom this will go is in New Zealand, so I'll still technically be compliant with the deadline.

Pic: Max and I found scads of tadpoles in the pond this morning. I'm excited for our future frog chorus.

the time I need

My deadline was this past Sunday. I got an extension until Wednesday, because I wanted to spend a few more days fine-tuning things. When I asked for the extension, the editor good-naturedly said I should "take the time I need." I think about how they (could have but) did not say I should take "all the time I need." I'm using it as a kind of rubric--does the tweak I envision fit in the "time I need?" If it doesn't, I'm making a note and passing on it/passing it on. 

I lugged my laptop to the sports bar where Big A was watching the Dallas-Boston NBA game tonight. While there, he tried quite valiantly to tell me all the "subplots" and rivalries beyond the score. His description of someone looking like a cream cheese was very apt--I recognized them as soon as they showed up on screen. Anyway, the Celtics won, everyone was happy, and we're home.

(That's two sports-themed events in the space of a week... who am I these days?!)

Pic: Big A in this year's Father's Day tee. It's Star-Wars themed and has all the kids' names on it. Huck and Max just got a treat from the treat jar. 

reading between the flowers

I think teenager Cass makes a terrific point in The Bee Sting when she is irritated with the ubiquitous nature themes in poetry: “You go to class and discuss famous poems. The poems are full of swans, gorse, blackberries, leopards, elderflowers, mountains, orchards, moonlight, wolves, nightingales, cherry blossoms, bog oak, lily-pads, honeybees. Even the brand-new ones are jam-packed with nature. It’s like the poets are not living in the same world as you. You put up your hand and say isn’t it weird that poets just keep going around noticing nature and not ever noticing that nature is shrinking? To read these poems you would think the world was as full of nature as it ever was even though in the last forty years so many animals and habitats have been wiped out. How come they don’t notice that? How come they don’t notice everything that’s been annihilated? If they’re so into noticing things? I look around and all I see is the world being ruined. If poems were true they’d just be about walking through a giant graveyard or a garbage dump. The only place you find nature is in poems, it’s total bullshit." 

And I think of the message Mohamed Hussein in Gaza put out this morning: "This flower has bloomed next to my tent as if to tell me not to lose hope, that tomorrow the war will end, and everything will become beautiful. Life will surely blossom again."

And I think that's why. That's the answer to Cass. Hope enters our lives and stays as long there is a single bloom.

Pic: These flowers have bloomed next to our house as if to tell me...