Mostly... no regrets

I wasn't always the best kid. 

I broke her heart when I tried to die. And during my teen anorexic years, I wielded a sort of malicious power over her at mealtimes. But both those things were over a period of 3-4 late teen years and outside of that--to her, I seemed the best kid. 

Every thing about me--my grades, my stories, my smiles, my book recs, my kids, my home, every award, every publication, every tiny hair tweak, every plant hack... every stupid thing brought her so much joy... as she never tired of telling me.

I'm glad we went for a long visit recently, and that we got to see her this summer, I'm glad I got to take her to all the places she wanted to go to, made her fabulous meals and very simple ones (the last thing I made her was the Parsi omelette sandwich we ate picnic style at the Detroit airport), made sure the kids cleared their calendars and spent enough time with us, did the professional family photo shoot she wanted, sang all the songs she wanted me to sing to her, took her shopping at all the discount places she loved.

I let all the small things go. Her main parenting rule was that she would love me no matter what. And in the last twenty years, that became my reciprocal rule as well. I stopped trying to convince her about things that were important to me... she had her own list of things that were important to her (mostly At, Nu, my sister, and me). And things got real easy after that. So... despite the pain, at least there's peace in knowing I don't wish I had done anything differently. 

The day before*, she wished me for my Boss Day, then we talked for a bit. Our last words were: 

"Love you, Kanna" 

"Love you, Amma"

No... No regrets... If I had known those were to be our final words, I would not have changed them.

But I would have changed the time. My grandmother and great-grandmother lived into their nineties and I expected my mom would too...

Pic: I recognize my lovely mom. The gremlin in her lap is supposedly me. 

* It was the 6th in Bangalore, but it was still the 5th when I got the call. I keep replaying the words I heard my sister say through her sobs ("Akka, Amma passed away this morning") in my head as if they'll make sense this time.

tribute

India won independence from Britain in 1947. Or according to tongue-in-cheek family lore, my mother was so powerful that the year after she was born, the British left India. Our dad was sincere in calling her our family's Dhairya Lakshmi--our Goddess of Courage. I can't believe my vibrant, beautiful, lovely, funny mother is not in this realm any longer. I feel enveloped in her presence and love still.

I can't put into words how amazing she was or how hard she loved me and my sister. When other Indian kids bemoan their strict upbringing, I'm extra grateful for Amma who diligently used the copy of Dr. Benjamin Spock she acquired in college; her two primary parenting rules for my sister and me were 1) Love your kids no matter what 2) Say yes more than you say no. As the eldest in a family of five she received extra corporal punishment from her father: "if the first wheel is straight, all the other wheels will follow." So she was determined that she would never lay a finger on her kids--that was one of the many generational cycles she successfully broke.

As a child she was hilariously blunt (to her grieving mother--"mom, don't cry! All your powder [make up] is getting washed away") + a terrible liar (after being told not to tell her grandfather they'd been to the cinema "Thatha, we didn't AT ALL go to the cinema"). And she continued on with those traits. She loved so fiercely and was unfailingly proud of us. It's no wonder she was adored by her two kids and grandkids, her four siblings, her niblings, and several of her kids' friends. Also, she loved her only brother extra and didn't care who knew that. I love that she and Aaron were each other's favorites. He was even better than I was at deciphering her 2:00 am texts--typos, Telugu colloquialisms and all. And she blissfully took my dad for granted. "Even if God himself came down to tell me, I'd never believe your dad could have an affair," she told me once. And just as I was awed by the trust that seemed to exist between my parents, she added: "He really hates to spend money." That still cracks me up.

She was irrepressible and fun-loving. And that line in _Bend it Like Beckham_ "Don't smile, Indian brides never smile" didn't apply to her; look how radiant she is in that B&W picture as a bride. She loved people and parties and travel. The week before Spring break this year, she texted me around 2:30 am to suggest she, my sister, and I should go to Istanbul. We could share a suite, her treat! We didn't do that, but two months ago, when she was here, we threw a huge garden party together, and she adored book clubs so we went to one at Jan Shoemaker's, and we got in lots of cuddles with Atulya and NuNu who were even more precious to her than her kids ("the interest is more precious than the principal" she'd say.)

Today a cardinal at the window woke me up. This is wonderful as they say cardinals are a sign of a loved one's spirit. But also, I have a feeder at that window and also I didn't have to wait to feel my mom's presence. It is always with me. I can't stop loving her and Amma won't stop loving us. I will always love her; she will love us forever. Om Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi.

birthday footsteps

Mom's birthday is on the 8th

Mine is on the 4th

my sister's is on the 22nd 

She always says the numbers in our birthdays (4 + 2 + 2) add up to hers (8).

My birthday is on the 4th

At's is on the 2nd

Nu's is on the 11th

I love that the numbers in my kids birthdays (2 + 1 + 1) add up to mine too!

Pic: One of her favorite photos of my sis and me.

is it even "going home"?

The date for the formal "Kariyalu" has been fixed for the 21st of September, and I'm going to make a quick trip to Bangalore. 

My mom always scoffed at this ceremony as a cipher and merely a signal to visiting family that the mourning period was over and that they should go home now. But that's her irreverent wit. 

I think it'll at least be healing for me to see my dad and sister and for us all to hold each other and cry. 

It doesn't feel like "going home" in any real way. She was the heart of the family--partly because she had such a huge personality and partly because she was a stay-at-home mom and always there. Not that anyone could take her for granted, I love that she always demanded full attention.

Pic: She kept this photo of me (at 6 months?) in her wallet.

I'm not the only one...

As the condolences come in, I'm reminded that so many people I know have suffered the loss of at least one parent already. I'm kind of in a lucky subset to have enjoyed the love and shelter of both my parents for so long. I feel extra sad when the condolences come from friends who lost their mothers before they were mothers themselves... Or when a young colleague mentioned that she was familiar with the pain of knowing how this felt--it totally took me out of my own grief for a while. 

I made it through this teaching day by not making eye-contact with anyone outside of class. The classroom feels like a natural place for me to be, but I cannot with in-person condolences, hugs, and talks right now. I feel like if I engage with anyone, I'll be a mess. I think I walked past a some people trying to talk to me because I was in my own head.

And while we laughed and cried and held each other through the ceremony here on Sunday and it felt meaningful... I can finally articulate even if only to myself how heartbroken I am that the cremation in India happened so quickly that I wasn't able to say goodbye to my mom. I can rationalize all night that it was just her physical form and all that, but it would have meant so much if they had been able to delay for a day or two. 

Pic: Amma's Wedding photo

where it hurts

Today would have been mom's Boss Day. 

I bit the bullet and informed HR at work and FB on the socials today. I hope this means I won't have to go over the details with everyone one by one, because I don't think  have it in me.

Writing up a reflection of Amma was easier than speaking, which I still can't do without breaking down.

It hurts everywhere. Some of it is from a record number of bumps and bruises over the past few days. But it also just hurts all over. 

I don't have the wherewithal to find it, but I heard a snippet on the radio before all this went down about how fibromyalgia (which is what this feels like) never shows up alone, but is always pinned to depression, of ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences), or traumas.

Pic: My mom treasured this photo because her name was Manu and I took this for her on a 1998 trip to Hawaii. 

saying goodbye

At and Nu have been so lovely and supportive. I've chuckled once or twice because I seem to say some really cliche stuff, but they listen attentively and treat me gently. I wonder how long this can last.

At first, I breezily told the kids that they were welcome to come home this weekend to be together and tell Ammama stories. Then I went back and made it clear that although I made it seem like they COULD come if THEY wanted to, what I really meant was that I really needed them to come, if they could. So At and Nu made plans and got home today. At took the Flyer from Ann Arbor; friends went to pick Nu up from college.

Knowing they would be home and would spend tonight here was something that got me through yesterday.

I walked to TJ's (still don't trust myself to drive) to get flowers to make a garland for the altar and predictably cried; At's friend H found me crying in the street and very kindly walked me back home. 

Later the fam told our favorite stories about Amma while the Aditya Hridayam played and wished her a safe and peaceful journey onward. Her ashes were mixed into the Kaveri at Srirangapatna today. 

Pic: The fam at the altar we made for Amma. 
(I did not want friends dropping off trays of food. But at some point I stopped protesting because it didn't make a difference and I'm so tired. It turns out, all those friends did know best. It was such a relief not to worry about what people were going to eat.)

life is dukkha

My dad spoke to me kindly and firmly and mere hours later the cremation has already taken place. There will be a celebration of life in December when I can take the kids to Bangalore. I saw my mom garlanded and looking different on a video call... I haven't been able to stop crying. My whole face hurts from crying and every part of my body.

Everyone is at my sister's house. Aunts and uncles, cousins. A lot of neighbors. Friends. I'm beginning to get a bit overwhelmed here as well. I am grateful for the love and care, but also just want to curl up in a ball. I've cried snottily on too many people in the last 24 hours. Typically, that's an honor reserved for Big A. 

For someone who usually loves being around people, I'm realizing that this is one moment I want to be alone. I've done stuff like pretend I'm not home and left people on read. I know I'll have to tell people at work and then probably on Facebook so I don't have to tell the story (and cry) hundreds of times, but I'm dreading that.

Pic: Mom on her 75th birthday. I love that my sister and I both picked the SAME photo for our altars!

motherless child

I had lunch with Nu, tea with JG, din with Big A...

And went line dancing at the Shuffle with a tableful of friends... where I was proudly sharing Amma's photos and telling stories about her childhood and celebrating her recovery... 

I'm guessing now that's around the time she passed away in her sleep.

She would have loved knowing that a whole tableful of people were talking about her. 

I can't believe I will never see my Amma again. 

How can that be?

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. 

"gratitude fosters abundance"

Thank you for the words of encouragement in the comments yesterday... I didn't realize how much I needed to hear them until I heard them. I'll pass it on to At, but please know they really, really helped me too. 

I was a bit downcast today--I blame the cloudy then rainy weather, the national and world news, dropping off excess from the campus gender-affirming closet at a donation center that took me past the homeless encampment, and watching Alien: Earth with Big A last night. Corporate greed and fuckery are everywhere and worries for my kids, kids in general, and the world kind of took over my brain. 

I'm rereading Robin Wall Kimmerer's Braiding Sweetgrass and she gets right to the heart of it: “modern capitalist societies, however richly endowed, dedicate themselves to the proposition of scarcity. Inadequacy of economic means is the first principle of the world’s wealthiest peoples. The shortage is due not to how much material wealth there actually is, but to the way in which it is exchanged or circulated.  Grain may rot in the warehouse while hungry people starve because they cannot pay for it. The result is famine for some and diseases of excess for others.”

She fills my soul when she talks about how gratitude fosters abundance (when we say thanks, we find so much to be thankful for!) and how she taught her daughters to garden so "they would always have a mother to love them, long after I am gone.” So I spent some time with the trees, grass, and plants when I got home to reset. There is so much to be grateful for... It's only a question of redistribution.

Pic: The Maple River on my way to work. It's what the kids and I used to call our "deep breath of beauty."

https://www.pocobrat.net/2024/05/standing-in-beauty.html   

https://www.pocobrat.net/2024/02/check-1-2.html 

https://www.pocobrat.net/2020/01/sunrise-snip.html

https://www.pocobrat.net/2019/10/here-comes-sun.html 

https://www.pocobrat.net/2021/11/maple-moment.html 

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. 

fugue

the road home winds slow 

my bicycle is nodding 

doors open drowsily

why must I tell this story 

                      the edges hesitate
                      tomorrow is unstated
                      but sure to arrive early 

_____________________________

Pic: I thought these were slugs on my hellebores, but they're teeny, tiny frogs--each one the size of a pea! The wonders I continue to discover, sometimes even in my own backyard, amaze me.

being a refrain

another day needs assembly 

even as the season begins

its theater again 

again the thousand mouths  

agape in hungry joy 

and song

singing like leaves crackling 

of the ache I've carried 

since I was 15

perhaps I should still be 15 

second guessing every

possibility: if, what if

as if in an infinity mirror until 

an appropriate darkness

descends like kindness

_______________

Pic: Huck needed to be carried part of the way by Big A on our long, hot Sparty walk. Max is a bit jealous. 

staying close

Big A and I celebrated my dad's birthday today by going on a long hike in Sleepy Hollow State Park with my colleague friends and their families. 

The other doggies were off leash, and Max started to protest-cry about that, so we decided to try taking his leash off. We did so with great trepidation, but Max did so great! 

He'd frolic a bit up the path then loop back to check in on us and then weave his way up and then back again. In this way, he must have done twice the number of miles we did. Huck was content to trot on at our usual pace with brief pauses to "smell the news."

Pic: An incline in the woods.
 

celebrate good times

It's my dad's birthday in India... I'm there in every way except in person... And in the meantime, over here, I'm celebrating with JL, DV, and EM, whose birthdays are this week.

When I dropped something off for Nu this afternoon, they wanted to take me out to lunch* and then we kept talking, talking, talking until it was four hours later and I had to reluctantly say I had to go. (* They wanted to take me out to lunch, but the bookstore where we ended up did not take their college "munch money," and I insisted on paying so they said they'd take me out another time. I didn't plan it that way, but this means we'll get to hang out again soon. I'm feeling fairly Machiavellian and celebrating this too.)

Pic: Birthday morning pic of dad, sis, mom. All the hearts. 

gathering my flowers this week

Nearing the end of the first week of Fall classes, I want to record these small, random work-related nicenesses for good cheer. It's like that old labor song says, "Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too."  (Such a poignant song, and this version in one of my favorite movies, Pride, always makes me choke up. Cross-cultural solidarity is my everything.)

Relayed

Two different people told me that incoming first years told them that they were here because they'd met me. I think it means I did a good job of showing how our college would be a good match for them rather than anything more dazzling.

Overheard

I was getting ready to leave for a class when I overheard colleagues in the hallway gushing about how colorful and cozy my office is. I recognized at least two voices and consider them good friends, but felt too bashful to acknowledge that I could hear them.

Backchat

A colleague emailed me to say: “Hello Maya! I do an icebreaker of "Dream Dinner Party" where people talk about five people they'd invite to their dinner party and why and one of my students included you in theirs. I just thought that was lovely and wanted to share!” Yay! I do love parties!

D.M. 

And I saved the best for last. I was already eager to read dear Nicole's novel, Inhale Exhale. And this week I learned that when casting about for a name for a "kind teacher" in her novel, Nicole chose mine. I feel so incredibly honored. And I'm so grateful to be remembered as a teacher. And a kind one! Nicole embodies compassion; to be thought of as kind by her is indeed an honor. This is such generosity, I feel as I did when my old student named a teacher/mentor character in his video game after me.

Pic: Zinnias (I think?) outside my office building this week.

Glimmers

It's Ganesha Chaturthi today; my first time celebrating without At and Nu here. I talked to At and Nu, chatted with my mom and sis, gave all our Ganeshas fresh kumkum and flowers, ate the mango, coconut sweets, and bananas myself, and then took myself off to book club in the evening. 

I refuse to be sad today; some glimmers on this auspicious day:

*The news of Taylor Swift's engagement made me happy. She's written about disappointment and heartbreak for nearly two decades, and it's lovely to see her with someone who seems to honor her.

*I wish I could exchange places for at least a day with someone who'd never heard of Donald Trump. But Rebecca Solnit pointed out that people are doing so many amazing things to right the wrongs of this administration.  "The ACLU is super-busy. Lawyers are suing like crazy. Democratic state a.g.s are talking every morning about their collective lawsuits. Protestors are in the streets, maybe 5 million at No Kings, there's lots of interference with ICE, 50501 was created expressly for this, Indivisible is growing by leaps and bounds, I'm seeing so many photographs of so many signs on overpasses, people are stepping up to help immigrants in all sorts of ways..."

*Although this study is a quarter century old, I just learned that instead of "fight or flight" women usually "tend and befriend" under stress. Women are inclined to nurture, protect, promote safety and create social networks instead of fleeing or fighting--brilliant! The paper is here. 

*Not that this is something anyone who's benefitted from being loved by puppies needs proof of. But an Emory University study using MRIs by Dr. Gregory Berns indicates that dogs brains light up more actively for praise (i.e. human interaction/affection) than food. Our canine friends and babies love us!

*Pic: This morning, Big A takes off for the five-day DALMAC bike tour as he usually does this time of the year. I think Jeanie may recognize his bicycling club jersey. Since he's been so sick this year, we weren't sure he'd make it through all five days and were determined to take it day by day. I didn't know that I'd be rescuing him from Dewitt after half a day. Ok, the glimmer: He's off for the next four days, so he gets to rest and recuperate. 

the news is sadness

I legit started to cry when I read that Serena Williams... THE Serena Williams, the GOAT... is taking weight-loss medications. People should do whatever they want with their own bodies, obviously. But the idea that this body which propelled her to greatness somehow needed to be made... smaller, made me feel hopeless about people ever being able to escape social size standards. Perhaps this hit me harder because Nicole wrote so movingly about maitri and self-love towards oneself this week. And perhaps some of this was because Big A, who before being sick was the fittest person I know personally--running marathons, doing triathlons, and once even besting Usain Bolt on the Peloton--was thrilled about having lost a significant amount of weight. He has been ill for nearly two months--how is his resultant body change something celebratory?

And then it turns out that our Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy sent letters to all 50 governors calling for the removal of Pride crosswalks. (The connection between transportation and crosswalks seems a bit tenuous to me?) Florida has been the first state to comply. In many places including at the Pulse Nightclub memorial where many LGBTQ people were gunned down in 2016, residents have been chalking pride colors back where they are being erased, and now the governor is sending the police to stand at crosswalks to make sure that doesn't happen. Is this really the most pressing issue for law enforcement? These people seem to have no sense or shame.

Pic: Sunrise with Max. It's in the 40s and chilly this week! Too soon!

being loud

I'm sure there's a lot happening in the world, but right now, I'm being loud about the ICE raids, the armed takeover in D.C., and Gaza. I just can't shut up about these especially as so many people are being silenced and are being made to feel unsafe to speak. In the case of Gaza, many voices have simply fallen silent, and as with my students in the online course last year, I fear the worst. Speaking up is one way of seeking them out. 

In addition to all the disappearing people, there are numerous words and terms disappearing from the public sphere--I continue to use them as loudly as needed; I refuse to be silent.

Tom Morello's Fuck Ice Playlist is terrific for getting fired up. (It's heavy with Rage Against the Machine, but that is to be expected, I suppose.) 

In the meantime, it's the first week of classes! I'm ready. Welcome emails have been sent, my Canvas sites are published, the syllabuses are loaded up, ditto class outlines and first-day activities and diagnostics. I'm ready, but even after 30 years of teaching, still with that sweet and heady mix of excitement laced with anxiety. Let's gooooooo!!

Pic: We've had thunderstorms and there's a bunch of stuff and mini logjams in the the Red Cedar. From a long walk with Big A to get ready for the Fall term. The app promised a cloudy afternoon, but we were caught in a thundershower.

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.) 

Reality Bites

I think I'm finally beginning to feel like Nu is NOT at a sleepover after all. It's the first day I haven't seen Nu since drop off since I took them stuff they forgot/needed yesterday and the day before.

Grocery store trip--not much except top-ups of fruit and veg since we already have too much of everything. And no Nu "treats." 

Watering my plants--and no Nu to come find me for long talks about life, the universe, and everything.

Dinner time--we'll have to figure this one out. Do we still set the table when it's just me and Big A? Do we eat at the kitchen counter?

Bedtime--no hug-kiss-chat. There's still family chat, thankfully. 

Pic: Max is feeling a bit extra clingy with Big A these days too.
 

impossible: summer whimsy

the measure of summer 

weightless--not empty

every thing a miracle 

each of us kindred 

perhaps I could tell you 

about a time mornings 

brought frosted grass 

and me to my knees

how a rustle in the trees--

in the distance moves

us another week into

stalling and to fall 

lit as I am with longings

only waiting cures me 

I tell you one thing 

let me tell you all

___________________________

Pic: Buzzards (?) overhead as I walked into campus today. They were perched on the Eddy Building and took off as I walked alongside.

sleepovers and playhouses

When we asked Nu how their first night away felt, they said it still feels like a sleepover... I'd concur that's how it feels for me as well--like they're just away at a friend's place for a while. And that's how one of the advisees I met today described their first week of college too. 

Describing college life as a sleepover seems such a Gen Z thing though. I mean, can you imagine one of those hardy, manly, macho writers from the mid-20C like Gore Vidal or Truman Capote describing college as a sleepover? Ha.

Pic: Nu (on the right) entertaining on their side of the little playhouse in Yellow Springs (the other side was At's) that I furnished and finished using the dollar store + thrift store. The other kids in the photo, whose mom is still in my will as my healthcare proxy in case Big A can't, continue to be dear friends. I have B's early notes with the sign off "I love you No" (I chuckle at that misspelling of "Nu") saved.

So apropos that this photo should show up in my feed as Nu settles into their first place away from home. On family chat, everyone joked about how much Nu has grown in the last five years (the caption says "5 years ago"). Actually, the photo showed up as "five years ago" in 2015, so it's circa 2010. NGF's photo.

new nest

Nu is settled into their new nest for the school year. Goodnight was via text tonight. Gulp.

We set off around the usual time we'd leave for school last year and saw younger kids waiting on the corner for the school bus... so that was poignant. We took the fork in the road.

And it continued to feel surreal. The kids remarked that I usually don't follow the posted speed limit quite so precisely. (The joke being that I was going slower than I usually would as if to stave off the inevitable.)

But our conversations were very light. I think all the serious stuff has already been said before. Today, I was struck by the clever wordplay in Chappell Roan's new song when it veers between "She's got a way" and "she got away." Nu good-naturedly rolled their eyes at that, so things felt more normal then. When we got to At's playlist, we found that she had Audioslave and Hole on there after finding them on an I-Pod she had inherited from me a long time ago.

We got to school, got a hero's welcome complete with pom-poms and cheerful helpers, dropped stuff off, said hello to Nu's roomie and their parents, got a big breakfast in town, and checked in on the family picnic. Nu insisted that they did not need (or want) help unpacking, (classic "I do it myself" Nu since they were about 18 months old), so we got some selfies and said goodbye.

Pic: A series of At, me, Nu, and Big A. I couldn't pick just one!

here we are

I checked out of the last set of work meetings early so I could spend some extra time before dinner with Nu on their last evening home before college. 

Dinner was grilled cheese (by request), friends dropped off brownie treats (LB) and chocolate (BL) for Nu to take to college, Nu's friends had helped them pack while I was at work, and Nu had done all their laundry and finished up by stacking all the college stuff in the rumpus room.

I got an extra long and tender kiss-hug goodnight. I may have clung on for an extra moment or two. Nu is still my baby. They're still just 17. But it's off to college tomorrow. I'm so excited for them!

Pic: Max inspects Nu's stacks of dorm stuff while a blurry, harried Nu explains. Max doesn't know what's coming and is going to miss Nu SO much! Huck has weathered At going off to college and may remember how that works. Scout was so mad at the world when At left... He'd sort of storm off through the doggie door and sit outside glaring up at the house. It was hilarious and sad.

Mixed, Mad, Mellow

Mixed: Back on campus for a full day of Fall conference today. It's delightful to see everyone after a summer of being away. And every year I find myself missing people who aren't here. Some of them are happily retired, some resigned unhappily, some moved on to other places, + a significant number of jobs were cut last December. There were a few absences today that were unexpected and I don't know if they're gone, are quiet-quitting, or just playing hooky. 

Mad: I'm upset that the funds I wired via Western Union in a hurry to help with my mom's medical bills last week were put on a hold. They didn't bother to tell me until I called them and then asked me a bunch of annoying questions to "protect me from scammers." You know what seems like a scam to me? Quietly sitting on my money for over a week when you promised it would be transferred in 15 minutes. I chose Western Union over a bank transfer precisely because it's supposed to be available in a matter minutes rather than days, but here we are ten days later. Ugh.

Pic: Mellow: An ice cream treat with Huck and Max. I get the chocolate part; they get the vanilla.

some media prompts and thoughts

Nu showed me this one: Google search "let's with mama" and click on the images tab. You'll get a bunch of cute pictures of animal mamas and babies doing cute, cuddly things together. Toddler Nu used to love "Mama and Baby" toys and pictures and I'm tickled to see that fondness made it to adulthood. 

We saw Weapons last week, and I've decided that I DO NOT LIKE it. There is a thread of ableism and ageism there I resent. IYKYK.

I am sad that And Just like That is going away. It wasn't a particularly good show, although it wasn't as terrible as this review makes it out to be, and I was mostly watching it out of nostalgia. And--after years of calling it "And so it Goes" and "That's What She Said"--I had just learned to say the name of the show right too. 

Saved the best for last. This spoken word piece by Sam Browne called "Guts" uses "dead babies" as anaphora and is heartbreaking, real, and amazing.

Pic: The koi pond at Radiology Gardens. Walk with L. 

a season of goodbye

We drop Nu off at college on Wednesday--that's coming up fast! I'm fueled by excitement for Nu and an ever-expanding to-do list before drop-off and the approach of back-to-school duties of my own. I know I'll get to Wednesday just fine... but I wonder how it'll feel coming back home after drop off.

Sometimes I'm curious about how it might feel not to be a full-time parent after 26 years of being one. Max and Huck are much easier than Nu--perhaps it'll feel... liberating?At other times I'm deeply aware of what an immense shift this is and know that things will never ever be the same again. Even though there will probably be plenty of visits and summers spent at home...

Pic: Lots of dinners this week so Nu can say goodbye to people. I forget what the joke was here (it doesn't look like poor Max was in on it either :)!) Pic by E.M.

going back where I came from

I could  lose  myself 

in much lonelier ways 

wandering on between 

no and now and nowhere

but then you tell me to go 

back where I came from 

I understand your animus

curled tight like my fist  

but I pretend confusion

& enact comic indecision:

all the way back to heaven
or just up my mom's vagina?

________________________________

Pic: Baker Woods looking magnificent. Walk with L.

Felony? Sounds like baloney

Yesterday, dear Subway Steph who lives in D.C. tipped me off that a man standing outside a Subway restaurant in D.C. was "charged with assaulting a federal agent with a sandwich."

This is so ridiculous. Are they going to pretend that a federal agent wearing a tactical vest was in danger from a sandwich? 

Isn't it extra ridiculous that they're making more noise about this than the murders of Minnesota senator Hortman and her husband who were assassinated in their home in June?

My mind kept coming up with more ridiculous responses all day:

Assault with a sandwich? Bite me.

Buddy, you're... toast.

Did you want a donut instead?

Is it a felony because it was a footlong? Would it have been a misdemeanor if it was a six-inch?

Pic: In my "Writing About Social Issues in Unprecedented Times" class earlier this evening. I'm better at photographs when I'm not the one taking them!

a song to follow

I  know it can't  be summer forever

these anonymous days will end soon 

and though today I talk of happiness

tomorrow we will plan a resistance 

with 

voices 

eyes 

hands

the breeze 

lifting 

us like joy 

(or dismay)

the world is so loud with trouble 

and yet we feel almost immortal 

spreading like rumors, we wade in

knowing there's still time to be taken 

________________________________

Pic: It's almost as if it will stay summer forever... I'm so grateful for sunshiny light, for things growing madly, and for bird visitors. And yet, the news out in the world continues to be so dire...

Real talk

Blog friends... Thank you for your gentle check-ins! Nicole just talked to me about The God of Small Things for a couple of days. I do similar check-ins with At all the time.

What timing... Federal control of Washington D.C. with National Guards taking over mere hours after we returned home. The president's claims about rising crime and homicide are all false, BTW. 

Countdown to Nu leaving for college... NINE days!

Big A is on the mend... But I've thought that before. 

Pic: Huck's a real fan of brunch time conversations.

memories of new friends

On Saturday, I was happy to meet two online friends in person.

Steph who writes at AllForTheLoveOfYou playfully described how she sometimes thinks of blogger friends as "imaginary friends." But I met Steph in person in Takoma Park... we both exist! We got beverages and talked and talked about teaching, writing, kids, activism, and on and on. Steph seemed exactly how I imagined her from her writing--beautiful, wise, funny, and very serene underneath it all.

I also met the Steph who sometimes describes herself in the "comments" as "Subway Steph" because she sends me virtual Subways sandwiches when I'm having a bad day. Steph made me a two-page list of things to do in D.C., so I'm going to have to come back! I was so grateful and moved by the attention Steph gave to this task--for instance, in recommending Busboys and Poets, Steph said it was activist-y and that sounded like the sort of thing my family might be into. 

We met at Zaytinya the restaurant of Chef José Andrés (of World Central Kitchen) and later I took the fam to dinner at Yellow (also a Steph recommendation). People couldn't stop raving about the food. Big A said it was the best food he'd ever eaten. Steph is so young, and I'm a big believer in intergenerational friendships, so this whole interaction made me so happy. I love knowing people like her are looking out for the future of the world and people in need.  

Pic: My selfie skills are sucky, but Steph and I were all smiles.

A diamond

Although I didn't get to celebrate my MIL's 75th with her this weekend, I got to celebrate SD's diamond birthday with a houseful of her family and friends. SD is my lovely, and probably my first American, friend who has seen me through widowhood, single parenthood, and so much more, saving me over and over again. 

We disagree about some things right now, but she'll listen to my rant and heartbreak, and she always ends every conversation by reminding me that she loves me.

The party was huge, and I took a breath before I dove in. I know SD's kids and some of her friends but there were so many people there... but then no one can ever stay a stranger in a Jewish home, in my experience. It was the best time, and I got dropped back to my hotel well after midnight.

Pic: SD's son, who works at the Kennedy Center, made an animated video about her life that I loved. The likeness was remarkable. For comparison, SD is the one in the gold sari next to me in this photo. 

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.

on our way/up, up and away

Big A rallied and we're on our way!

I'm so grateful for my kind blog friends who checked in on me because I haven't posted in a couple of days.

Pic: Clouds from the plane. I'll never take for granted how magical this view is.

snarl/ensnarled

Pic: Things are blooming in the garden, but also I wanted to document this giant spiderweb. It's mostly invisible, until you follow the threads from the right of the picture to the center.

Feeling very entangled in uncertainty and anxiety right now.
 

Urgent Care this Morning; E.R. in the evening

Big A seemed to be recovering fine yesterday and suddenly needed so much medical help today. I'm lowkey terrified about his health and way down on that scale of anxiety is the worry if we're going to make it to D.C., a short trip on which we've already spent a ton.