a quarter of a century...

between this conference presentation (MLA, 2000)

and my most recent (NWSA, 2025)

* Feroza, who is beaming at me in the first picture, is one of the editors of the poetry anthology that came out last year.

** I believe Amma took the first photo... I found it in her stash anyway.

how comedians are born

Instagram has been feeding me reels of standup comedian Gianmarco Soresi, whom I find funny. I've been watching the whole reel, which means the algorithm has been sending me more including his TV and podcast appearances, and attendance at political rallies including Zohran Mamdani's. 

The other day, I was idly telling Big A about GS and how he seemed to be funny AND smart. 

"Oh! said Big A."Funny AND smart!" It's the people who are funny and smart who didn't get into medical school who become comedians." 

It made no sense at all, but it was kind of funny. 

I wrote about her a lot

...and it felt nice to share the quirky things she used to via the poems.

I wondered if it would make me sad, but it made me happy to see other people smiling and enjoying her quirks too. 

A reading from the Sing Anthology as part of the Chippewa Valley Writing Festival. 

nice day for...*

Today was a nice day for an "Alternative Break." I'd always promised myself that I'd go on these service breaks with a group from the college when I was an empty nester.

It felt very therapeutic to throw myself into using my body to lug things to fill two forty-foot dumpsters for the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. I thought a lot of the stuff that went to the landfill today could be reused, but the people at the store had already had it for a while and needed to make room. They know what's best for them, so I just did what I was asked to do.

At lunch, one of the students referred to my recent India trip and asked how I was doing. I hadn't mentioned anything to this group, so I asked how they knew. Turns out they know a student in one of my classes. I wonder if I've been a little "off" for that student to mention it to other people.

Also, I met a volunteer at the store who had been in the Peace Corps in the 1960s (and she's still volunteering!). She'd served in India so we talked a while about all the ways in which things have changed (not for the better). She said she'd just read and loved the new Kiran Desai The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny, which I'd planned to read, because I loved Desai's last novel (was it really nearly 20 years ago?). So I came home and started on that right away.

Pic: A brilliant sky and the practical backlot at the Habitat gig today.

*I can't hear "nice day for..." without Billy Idol snarling "White Wedding" in my head every time!

book-loops

Obviously books and reading are always polyrhythmic and reverberate off each other in a jazz-y way. But I've been looping through book connections recently in ways that made me smile. 

Kadiatou is a character in the new Chimamanda Adichie novel Dreamcount, and when I read Christian Cooper's Better Living Through Birding (our city's "Grand Read" book; Cooper will be here next month) I was reminded that Kadiatou is also the name of the activist who used the 3-million dollar settlement from the unlawful gunning down of her son Amadou Diallo by NYPD to start a foundation to help other immigrants.

I was quite taken by Anand Giridharadas's The Persuaders, which had great suggestions on how to be persuasive and change people's perspectives and thought I'd try Michael Pollan's How to Change Your Mind which sounded similar... except that Pollan's book is about how to change your mind through the use of psychedelics (including LSD, psilocybin and MDMA). Ha! He makes the point that middle age is the time to do this since we're probably stuck in habitual ruts though. Consider me sold.

When I mentioned Braiding Sweetgrass yesterday, Sarah mentioned how awesome Kimmerer's second work, The Serviceberry, is and mentioned giving her firstborn a copy. My firstborn gave me The Serviceberry for Christmas and that's what got me into rereading Braiding Sweetgrass!

And finally, the work of two wonderful authors I know. I wish I could introduce them to each other. Sunny Singh who met with my students in May has a new book of short stories called Refuge out! And as David Shulman's latest article in the New York Review of Books  was a couple of months ago I'm rereading Tamil, one of his classics. David was the head of the Institute for Advanced Studies at Hebrew University in Jerusalem when I was there in 1998. Both Sunny and David have been forthright and outspoken about the genocide in Gaza from the beginning and I am so grateful for their moral clarity. 

Pic: I piled all the books I mentioned here on the table for a glamshot. 

At crossroads

Today was At's last shift at Chipotle and At re-posted this ironic-meta-celebratory picture of themselves reading about themselves from three years ago when they made labor history by unionizing. It has been three years of hoping to change workplace systems and being jerked around by corporate intermediaries. After three years of negotiations, they just weren't able to reach a contract and worker pay has been frozen for the duration. This has been so depressing and frustrating. (This happens to be the case with the historic Starbucks workers unions as well--although there are over 500 unionized stores, not a single one has been able to reach a contract.)

2022 was euphoric. It felt full of possibility... like things were at the tipping point. Governor Gretchen Whitmer wrote At a letter; there were articles about At in Slate, Labor Notes, Jacobin, The Washington Post, NPR and on and on; Bernie Sanders tweeted their win; Michael Moore dropped At's name; and then... two+ years of stagnation. I keep telling At that this still counts for so much and that they've made a difference. And I 100% believe all of it. I hope that with today's closure, At is able to find the next thing to get fired up about and that peace and success follow. (Between this disappointment and the recent personal tsunami, what a sad year it has been for my first-born.)

Pic: At's repost today from 2022: "at the first ever shift at the first ever unionized chipotle reading about some nerd." (The nerd they're reading about is themselves in The Washington Post. Also, the 14K likes on that tweet!) Normally, I wouldn't post a pre-transition picture, but since At shared this one publicly today, I guess it's ok. 

A Spike Lee Joint

I missed some summer standards with friends this week. I didn't get to hang out under JN's giant vagina and watch movies al fresco on Friday and I missed HS's garden party with its jazz band today. Taking myself to places has seemed like a heavy task this week. I know my friends will understand.

But I went to see Highest 2 Lowest with At and her friends this evening. It was very fun. Nu and I had been on a bit of a Spike Lee jag recently too. We'd watched The Sound of Music, which made me think we should watch Lee's The Inside Man because it's like an alternative life trajectory for a Capt. Von Trapp character, and then we went on to Do the Right Thing and BlackkKlansman. 

Pic: A screengrab from At's social media this week: "In high school I had homemade Spike Lee converses and I wore them the entire band trip to nyc just in case I ran into him." Haha. Aw. We still have these shoes. (Also, I'm pretty sure these were knockoffs.) 

visiting Minè Okubo on the 80th anniversary of Nagasaki

My MIL turned 75 in January, and she was ecstatic to hear that there was a Minè Okubo retrospective at the Smithsonian because of the family connection.

That got us started planning a 75th birthday bash in D.C. Then MIL had a mini stroke and couldn't travel, At dropped out because of heartbreak, and Big A was very sick this week...

But some of us made it to this beautiful exhibition  on the 80th anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki and it was a poignant reminder of how much the past is with us. Minè Okubo worked for the U.S. government and her brother was a member of the U.S. military, but she and the rest of her Japanese-American family were nevertheless forcibly incarcerated in internment camps after Pearl Harbor. 

(I've been feeling so insecure, I carried my passport along with my Real ID for travel this time.)

Pic: Nu, Big A, and Aunt R at the exhibition.

What I'm looking at

One of my summer tasks was to do a closet cull. It hasn't happened yet. Could still happen, I suppose! 

Another one was to put together a chapbook of poetry. I have been working on that a bit. I started wondering today... if that should be two chapbooks. 

Instead of trying to force the nature pieces and the family/politics pieces into the same space, perhaps they should each have a separate volume? It might be easier to articulate a theme that way. 

A lot of the time, the nature compositions are untethered--they matter to me at the moment of writing, but may not be interesting to anyone else because they don't tell a story. I'd be sad to lose all of them though.

Pic: purple flowers by the river, reflection of trees and sky. When I looked at my post-walk photos, I didn't know what I was looking at at first. 

"unbecoming"

Stuck in a holding pattern today... Amma is stuck in the ICU (she hates it there because she loves company and is currently only allowed one visitor at a time twice a day); Big A is still holed up in the guest room with his road rash and his high fever.

I had to get out of the the house today. 

I said a fond and proud goodbye to TP, who's leaving Lansing to take up a tenure-track position at Bradley University.* I've known TP since they were a baby scholar and now they have a book out with Rutgers! (*I kept thinking Bradley sounded awfully familiar and only later did I realize it's because that's Sarah's [and Ben's?] alma mater!)

I had to attend a screening of my colleague SS's film Did You Guys Eat at the Broad Museum.

I had to take Max to a vet appointment. (Big A was supposed to, but clearly couldn't).

And then EM picked me up to take me to a "mental-health dinner" at Brody Cafeteria where I ate for the first time today, so I ate three plates of food and three desserts.

Pic: While at The Broad, I checked out Diana Al-Hadid's exhibit "Unbecoming" which plays on the concept of "unbecoming" as unraveling and also (when applied to women) as inappropriate. This particular piece was titled "Medusa." 

"in the end I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks"

While my sister spoke to me over the telephone, I spied a smudge on the kitchen counter and assiduously swiped at it clockwise and anti-clockwise with a dishcloth.

I guess I was hearing her words but hadn't yet made sense of what she'd said.

My mom is in the ICU. She may need to go on a ventilator. She may have had a heart attack. All of this still sounds unreal. She was just here two days ago, being her usual self.

Before my sister's call, I had started today's post with this: The gentle, brilliant spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson, who died yesterday, once wrote “In the end I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks.” And I too want to stretch my heart wide with love and what it means to be human and alive and brave. But I can't handle the thought of my mom struggling to breathe.

books and the best friends

Books are some of my best friends and my friends are the best. When I asked Jan Shoemaker if I could bring my people to book club, she told me to bring anyone I wanted--kids and puppies included. I didn't expect her to have a cake with my mom's and sister's names emblazoned on it. 

Nor did I expect L to flout all the rules of cake-cutting and delve straight into the center of the cake to pull out the piece with my mom's name for her to eat. 

I have the best friends.

Pic: Mom with "her" piece of cake. My name was on there too, and I made a lot of "who wants a piece of me" jokes. 

next week will be better

I saw a thing somewhere that said adult life is about telling yourself that next week will get easier and you'll get to relax when it's over... over and over again... that's depressing.

I'm back in the classroom this week for a workshop with Kevin Gannon of Radical Hope: A Teaching Manifesto. And the thing is, yes... it's supposed to be summer break, but it's so wonderful being in a classroom 'cos I'm so nerdy. And being in this particular workshop makes me feel like things really could get better for all of us, you know?

Also, admin reminded me that I hadn't submitted my annual report, so I started on it... and whoa! I've done a lot!

Pic: I asked Kevin Gannon, who's facing the camera, if I could use his picture--but I wanted to keep my colleagues somewhat incognito. 

Ughs <--> Ohs

The NWSA proposal EM and I submitted together didn't get accepted, but the one I submitted by myself did. I wanted to go with her!

I ran out of moisturizer while traveling with the kids and sampled Nu's Vanicream, and it's a dream. It may be the one thing Miranda July got right in All Fours. (That and the bit about dogs.)

I got my travel course evals--high marks, but very few comments. It would have been nice if some of the kind things people wrote in cards and emails were in the course evals--I'm up for assessment the year after next.

I got a copy of American Dirt by Jeanine Cummings (from a Goodwill) because a student (Hi, CW!) wanted to work on it and am reading it now. I expected to hate every minute of its appropriative voice... but have to say it's quite respectful and suspenseful.

A poetry anthology I have some poems in is now on Amazon and getting promoted heavily by the editors... and I'm worried my mom might see. I know she'll not like that I wrote about some of those topics.  

Pic: I watched this frog swim up to the little solar fountain like they were a kid in summer camp swimming up to the buoy in the middle of the lake. Their name is Popchyk. (Big A is reading The Goldfinch on my recommendation and we talk about the puppy more than any other character.)

traveling (like) light

 

here, on our way

our connections belonging

only to ourselves 

history's hooks dangling

 carrying instructions

treading eternally in travel

flighty and watery 

brave before memory

yet imagining every thing...

foreign for moments

knowing our effects are light 

yet baggage enough 

for other people to live out 

of them for a lifetime

___________________________ 

Pic 1: Like I did last time, I got everyone identical scarves to loop onto our backpacks so we can ID each other easily. (My pic.)

Pic 2: I'm so grateful for this community of eager learners. They were willing to construct and present on their keywords and concepts in the airport on our long layover. (Pic by our travel chaperone.)

in the name of James Baldwin, Amen

Exam week has its own sense of frenzy, but the volume of work email was low today and I opened up emails that I might not otherwise have opened up. Some notable ones below:

1) I got some fiery ideas for real resistance from an open letter to the Dem leadership. It got me right from its very relatable beginning: "Dear Democratic Party, I need more from you. You keep sending emails begging for $15, while we’re watching fascism consolidate power in real time." (LOL-sob). What follows is an amazing 7-point plan of action that gave me so much hope. This email's subject header was "Letter from Liz Cheney" and I would have usually been like NOPE. (It's actually authored by a Dr. Pru Lee.)

2) An apparently long-standing bookclub in the area wants me to lead a discussion of Clear by Carys Davies sometime in the upcoming year and they'll pay me $200 for the hour. I didn't realize bookclubs paid people?! This email's subject header was "Book Review" and I thought it was a request from someone I didn't know asking for a blurb.

3) An organization I volunteer with rather infrequently wants to feature me as the volunteer of the month, and were giving me a heads up that they were going to pull my photo from my Google profile. Okay. This email's subject header was "Thank You from ___" and I actually thought it was a fundraising email. 

4) The birthday cake I delivered the other day and prompted the fight with Big A was enjoyed by the three-year-old it was meant for. Their family sent me a photo and it was so adorable that it melted Big A's heart. He said he'd come with me on delivery trips when possible (basically be my "delivery buddy" as Lisa suggested). This email's subject header was "cake"-- I think I had a feeling what it was about. 

I wonder what surprises I'm missing on high-volume email days!

Pic: Last week at the bookstore with At, I got this James Baldwin votive from their "Secular Saints" collection. Baldwin went on my altar as soon as I got home, as I need his courage and clarity in these times. (At and I laughed about the side eye she gave me when I got this because I was such a stickler about "bookstores and bookfairs are for books, not toys and tchotchkes" when the kids were growing up.)

nice/surprise

 It's April 1st tomorrow and who knows what the day will bring--here are a few things that took me by surprise on this last day of March.

I woke up from a dream in which I marveled how in a crowd of strangers we unhesitatingly call ourselves "we." It's true, isn't it? There's something beautiful and magic about that.

I was on a walk and 30 mins from home when a neighbor called to say she'd found Max wandering around her yard and had put him in her screen porch. Obviously, I panicked and called Nu to go over and get Max. Nu went downstairs and then called to tell me Max and Huck were downstairs cuddling on the sofa. Ha. The other puppy was reunited with their family soon after.

For the first time ever, a book I put on hold at the library (Claire Lombardo's The Most Fun We've Ever Had) came in before I caved and got it myself.

Yesterday, while sheltering from the tornado, I realized that Nu and Big A had ordered an arcade Ms. Pac-Man game for the basement. I thought we were in our frugal era! I'm mad. Also that thing is going to be 5-ft tall when it's put together.

Pic: I commented to Suzanne that I planned to make sushi cups from an insta reel I'd seen. I did! I did not expect them to be as as easy as they looked or come out so well (esp. as I ad lib a fair amount). They look a bit color deficient to me as I want all five colors at every meal, but a blueberry-mango-raspberry compote completed the gap at dinner. 

trash turtles all the way down

I was worried about a dear friend who'd had open heart surgery last week. It made me feel a little better when I got to see their dear face while I dropped off some medication I'd picked up (they can't be alone, so I could either stay with them while their partner picked up the meds or pick up the meds while their partner stayed with them). 

I hadn't heard a peep out of my mom or sis for a whole day. So when the phone rang around 2 am, just as I was putting the puppies and the house to bed, I freaked the fuck out because I thought something was wrong with either my friend or my mom and dad. But no, it was just my mom calling to chat. I think she was a bit thrown off by DST too? Anyway. 

After that, I kept trying to read myself to sleep. Big A was at work, and then he texted to say he'd been attacked by a patient. That was it for sleep last night. I was so sad and worried for him and made him send me pictures and cried over all the scratches and bruises I could see.

And I got to hear the whole story today... I am sad for the patient suffering a psychotic episode in prison and then again in the hospital. I am sad for the security guard who gets paid minimum pay and is expected to put his life on the line--he got attacked first and Big A was trying to help him him when he got attacked too. There are no villains here. It's just awfulness all the way down. I'm just thankful there were no guns involved.
_______________________________
Pic: This made me laugh when I went thrifting this weekend because I needed new books for our Little Free Library (I got some awesome ones). I didn't get these books. They both have the same title--One Bite at a Time--it's just that they couldn't be more different in content: one is a book of recipes for cancer survivors and their caregivers and the other a collection of horror short stories!

March ahead

Oh, the dread that descended as I thought and wrote, "Midterm break is over" at the end of yesterday's post. 

The thing is, the week has been non-stop. I worked with the Baldwin Prize people out of Baltimore from Friday. I judged scores of papers for the national English Literature honorary society (Sigma Tau Delta) all week ahead of the convention at the end of March--the deadline for that was yesterday. 

And I chaired the Women's and Gender Studies panel of the Michigan Academy conference yesterday, but also had to go to the Board Meeting which ran late on Thursday because somehow I'm now a board member. And I had a paper at the conference with EM, so we had to work on that all week too, finishing up in a burst of energy after dinner together on Wednesday.

And then I realized that we didn't have any speakers for Women's History Month, so I scrambled and used my professional connections and asked nicely and got two amazing speakers for us-- Heidi Lewis, President of the National Women's Studies Association, (via Zoom) and Lysne Beckwith Tait, Founder of Helping Women Period, (in person). I got some other activities arranged on the Women's History Month calendar too (a student symposium, International Women's Day Tea) but these things are more within my own control. When you work at a small college, one wears a lot of hats.

And then some bad news: The editor of an anthology where I had an accepted submission said The University of Louisiana Press had decided not to go ahead with publication. But in the wings, another anthology submission needed urgent copy-edits approval. The copy editor wanted to remove the parenthetical notation of the novels' dates of publication on introduction--I think it's highly pertinent? Anyway, some back and forth on that. 

And as of this morning, back to regular upkeep of Canvas pages and class preps for my classes. (And oh, I graded *everything* by Tuesday.)

Looking ahead, there are additional things I've agreed to. There's a class for incarcerated students on the 18th--I'd already prepped this last year but didn't get to do it and I'm looking forward to it. And also I'm going to be on a campus-wide panel talking about 50 days of this administration on the 12th--that should be fun (NOT!).

I guess it's a good thing we had a midterm break so I could work on these things without juggling regular classes as well.

Happy March! Marching ahead! (Also, I'm glad I didn't take off for Turkey!! Neither did my mom and sis, actually.)

Pic: From under the Beal Street Bridge. A thin glaze of ice on The Red Cedar; brilliant blue skies and bitingly cold winds. I walked and walked and walked to clear my head.

"It's all takin' and no givin'"

So I was a bit euphoric when I wrote yesterday's post. It feels good to solve a problem so easily. But I just know my parents would not approve of me making withdrawals from that account. I know they already gave it to me and it's mine to do whatever I wish with it and all that. But I feel bad. They'd be hurt about it. They would say they sacrificed a lot to give it to me. And yes, I guess they did sacrifice things like impromptu trips to Turkey when they were young to save it for me. I've also been feeling bad about Big A, who makes many times more than I do, but shares everything equally, and here I am spending a private stash I claimed was not for spending. But it's done. And I'm mostly glad I did it. 

Anyway.

Money is so weird. And I don't want to keep thinking about it and feeling anxious. 

But L took me to see 9 to 5 The Musical this evening and I had to continue to think about money some more. About 80% of the audience was women--as if the wage gap isn't an issue that ought to concern everyone. It was a terrific show and a lively and engaged audience. Bless Dolly Parton for making it all feel snappy and hummable at least.