things I was told this week

Nu's pneumonia came up when I dropped in on the girlfriends yesterday. As I was wondering if I should be around other people, DV, who was such a rock when Nu was in distress, told me that the CDC has changed its recommendations for the pneumococcal vaccine, lowering the age recommendation. I'm getting it. 

As I was dropping Nu off for driving practice this morning, I told them I'm very self-conscious as I drive up to their instructor's car, making sure to keep my hands in the 10-2 position and all that. And Nu told me that actually, now you're supposed to keep your hands in the 9-3 position because of the possibility of airbag injury! And also that perhaps I should drive badly, as it might be helpful. The instructor would cut them some extra slack because they'd be like, Whoa! That kid has a terrible role model. Thanks, Nu.

A person I love love love dearly told me that they're separating from their partner. Twenty plus years ago, when we were all in grad school, they'd brought this person to my Thanksgiving table as a friend. And in a phone call later that week I'd said to them that it seemed like the other person wanted to be more than friends. They got married a few days after Big A and I did. My person has supported their soon-to-be-ex emotionally and financially for nearly two decades and this just fits the overall trend and it sucks and I am heartsick. 

While I was coordinating a welcome gift drop-off for a cousin's new baby, I casually asked my aunt what new adventures she and her husband had been up to since they were now empty nesters... and she told me she'd just divorced him. I wasn't expecting this for all the obvious reasons, but also because they had had an arranged marriage, and I think this is the first divorce in that generation on my side of the family. This is huge and liberating--I'm so happy people are looking out for their happiness without letting tradition and fear of scandal get in the way. 

At did a class on inoculation for other organizers in their old bedroom before family dinner this evening. When I was dropping them off at their place, At told me that in every class, they mention how I talked to one of their Indian coworkers in Telugu and how that helped build a connection. Aw! I feel like a small part of labor history!

Pic: The Red Cedar in spate. (Just past the stadium.)

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.)

the one with a gun

We'll be telling this story at dinner parties forever. 

Big A and I were on our usual walk to Sparty through the MSU campus when a car careened around the bend and barely screeched to a halt at the stop sign. There were a lot of student-pedestrians around and I have a big mouth on me, so I yelled out, "Slow down!" I guess someone in the car had a big mouth too, because they yelled out, "Boo, Bitch!" This upset Big A who took off running after their car, and they sped off. 

Except they looped around and screeched to a halt next to us again. And three of them (two of them sans shirts) got out of the car. As they got closer: Big A asked for an apology; I told them they were going to hurt someone if they didn't slow down; they accused us of looking at them (which we had been). Then the older guy in his twenties said he was going to get his gun, and... reached between the car seats, got his gun, and tucked it into the waistband of his shorts. I thought I was going to burst into giggles at that point, because this very white guy with a gun kept advancing on Big A, liberally using the N-word, and telling him to get "stepping to it." And then everyone was just staring at each other--we didn't want to get shot, and they didn't want to shoot us, I guess? We told them it wasn't right, I threw in a final instruction to slow down for good measure, we said we were walking away, and so we did.

They took off in the opposite direction... but then they looped around again and pulled up about ten feet ahead of us. That's when I pulled out my phone and called 911. And they took off again, this time for real, when they saw me dialing. And we never saw them again. But we did have to wait for campus police to show up and make a formal report. And then we stayed on the lookout on our way home and snuck our way through the woods just in case their car was still around somewhere, laughing with the adrenalin of it all.

Big A is nice because, I asked, and he said that I hadn't escalated when I yelled at them to slow down--I was doing the right thing and speaking up. I am not so nice, because I told him that I didn't need my honor protected just because some rando called me a bitch, and that he should not have escalated by running after them yelling "What did you call my wife?" etc. Anyway, it was an unlooked-for Saturday adventure.

Pic: Brilliant sky, brilliant Red Cedar--the view from the bridge shortly before it all went down.

Friday vibe

This week seems to have gone by in a rush, but today went quietly. Today is Ganesha Chaturthi, but everyone had work/school so we'll celebrate properly on Sunday.

I worked with my serious independent studies students and took meetings and sat on committee meetings... and yet somehow managed to miss the English department meeting (new time)! It was embarrassing, but my colleagues were very kind about it.

At the end of the day, I printed out the flyer for the book from the publisher's website and plugged my forthcoming publication to the marketing team. My voice has been hoarse for a week, and a former student at the event thought it was hilarious and kept pretending it was because I'd been partying too hard. If only.

Back home, Nu was partying hard--they were out to the football game, senior paint party, and dinner with friends, so Big A and I fed Max and Huckie and made ourselves dinner. I made a very pretty matchstick salad of peppers, carrots, cucumbers, basil, and mint as a bed for the dumplings Big A was frying up. We missed Nu, but I guess this is us on the reg from next year. 

One of the girlfriends sent me a picture of the game, and Nu was in it! I shared it on family chat and claimed I had spies everywhere, but Nu was unfazed and rolled their eyes. When Nu got home at midnight, they shared a compliment they'd been hugging to themselves all day. Their English teacher had told them that they saved Nu's work to read last because it always gave them something to think about. Aw!

Pic: I took some new colleagues an "office-warming" gift. The "ribbons" are in our college's signature plaid and are actually shoelaces.

American Empire

[If you're riding a high from the DNC, please skip this post. 

I'm a bit demoralized from the bread-and-circuses model. I want to hear more about childcare, labor, healthcare, paid family leave, housing, etc. and less about "lethal fighting forces." I can't stop thinking how according to the Department of Housing and Urban Development, it would cost $20 billion to end homelessness in the United States and we sent that much just this week to an ally who will use it to bomb civilians in Gaza.]

Morning   I thought UAW (United Auto Workers) leadership stated it succinctly, "If we want peace, if we want real democracy, and if we want to win this election, the Democratic Party must allow a Palestinian American speaker to be heard from the DNC stage tonight."

I spent hours calling representatives and helping friends call their representatives to get at least two minutes for Rep. Ruwa Romman of Georgia to speak from the main stage on behalf of Palestinian Americans. In her vetted speech, she would have endorsed Harris-Walz and encouraged uncommitted voters to unite behind them. But none of that happened. This was an immense opportunity for goodwill squandered by the Harris-Walz camp.

Afternoon A colleague I hadn't seen all summer asked me if I was excited Kamala Harris is a presidential nominee. I must have looked blank because he clarified, "She's an Indian woman!" This no doubt comes from a well-meaning place, but I probably have more in common with her Marxist professor father than with someone who was a D.A. 

And also, I wondered if it would be rude if I in turn asked him if he was excited because Trump is a presidential nominee as they're both white men.

Evening   Snippets from the Democratic National Convention.

"I will ensure America always has the most lethal fighting force..." (Kamala Harris) 

"U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!" (crowd)

"So they put a rifle in my hand/sent me off to a foreign land/to go and kill the yellow man" (Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A." plays overhead) [Why do people think this is a patriotic song to play at conventions?!]

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.

snapshots

3:30 am: Big A and I get to bed and wish we didn't have to go to work in the morning. Not because we're getting to bed late, but because he's working in Milwaukee for the next three days and I won't be around to say goodbye when he leaves.

5:30-ish am: I wake from a nightmare in which I'm in my modeling days and the make-up artist is someone who appears to be a 14-year-old child. They somehow manage to fix my hair so it looks both straight and frizzy and when I demur, they threaten to call their dad.

6:55 am: I'm finishing up breakfast chores and Nu asks me if I could drop them at the school bus stop because it's drizzling and they just blow-dried their hair. Umbrellas and raincoats are too cumbersome to carry around at school (their locker is too far away from their classrooms).

8:30-ish am: I'm crying in the car because today's Story Corps was terrifying and beautiful.

9:15 am onwards: all my favorite work people are gathered to clap for a colleague who has just taught the last class of their career as they walk out of their classroom. Does anyplace else do this? The consensus is "no." I think this is a lovely tradition. Bonus: I get to have little chats with all my favorite people.

10:00 am-ish: I walk AK back to her building and we take in the Gaza exhibit the YDSA has put up.

WORK WORK WORK WORK 

Noon-ish: Two colleagues pop by my office to strategize some advocacy work. We're drinking tea and spilling all kinds of tea.

WORK WORK WORK WORK 

5:00-ish: Mostly work although there is some surreptitious texting during the meeting where I say goodbye to Big A and check in on Nu and then JD and LK are texting about "feeling a breakdown coming on" and how their "soul has left the building."

5:30-ish: I leave the meeting with SD for a work dinner. It's lovely to see all the wonderful work people have been doing. One of my favorite people who now works at the University of Michigan is visiting and has a beautiful handwritten letter for me.

7:00-ish: I'm on my way home and chatting to my mom.

8:00-ish: I get home. Big A has left for Wisconsin, Nu is out with friends, Max and Huckie are so happy to see me. 

The day is almost over for me at this point. The puppies and I share a banana--our evening treat--and then snuggle up on the couch. I finish up the book I'm reading and listen to music while I wait for Nu to get home. Their deadline is midnight.

Pic: YDSA's informational Gaza exhibit. I assumed that the rain had done some damage, but it seems some of the uprooted flags were human mischief. 

company song*

the glasses fall
they bleed their wine 
our stories agree
on paths of memory

we're at last call 

see banter and comfort 

touch everyone

and as we're nearly done 

I thank you, all

you aimed for music 

told the song

of where we may belong 

-----------------

*Note: A ditty Nu helped me make as we put away last night's party. 

Pic: A handsome frog sunning himself at our pond. No kisses or crown needed.

Farewell, 2022

A good last day with two long walks with LB and BSL to round off the year. 

A raucous dinner time with Scout and Huck underfoot, and Nu, At, and Big A at the counter for parathas--the person waiting for me to finish the next paratha were in charge of running a round of Truth or Dare. Some calls to grandparents, the traditional new year presents (calendars and something inspiring), a few eps of Joe Pera... and then At was off to a show with friends, Nu was on with friends online, and I joined PM's write-in for the new year on Slack (where I started and abandoned a poem based on PM's prompt). 

And then, as Big A, Scout and Huck napped inches away from me, it was 2023. 

disappearance

you know something/ I don't
the turn into spring, into fall 
a new war... an old messiah 
the budding preceding it all

I try to remind you of love 
in the face of opening loss
we know life keeps taking 

uprooting even... thoughts

placebo

the ceremony of each day grows hostile 
like a needle in my veins 
going under the shape of my resistance
and landscapes of hunger

I've been told to take each day at a time 
I abandon months in a gulp 
but the best minutes become sustenance
still so modest, but medicinal

so it's universal

new nothings are of the highest order
metaphor is a dark mass of wire
feel the kiss of prepositions
--they're infinite

we inhale before the contented sigh
and embrace like we're a whole
orbit full of revelations,
even in rearview