grey skies, glassy river

At's coworkers S and H, who had worked until 11 pm, came over after their shift to strategize for their first bargaining meeting on Monday. For fuel, I made them tea to go with the iced cookies we had. They worked until nearly 2:00 am--their quiet murmurs punctuated by shouts of laughter. How hard and joyously these young people work! 💗

At and I were up again around 6:00 am to make breakfast tacos. Then I dropped At off at the bus for Detroit where they're meeting up with friends to go see Connor O'Malley. Back home, Nu took today to "decompress." 

I did too. I took a long ramble by myself, started rereading Anna Karenina, did yoga with Big A (tech-y: via Portal and a Mirror lesson and doggy with guest appearances by Scout and Huck on my camera), soaked, snacked, made a sweet-potato-apple-"sausage"-spinach soup for dinner. Then on to student meetings and grading.

Let me be weird: At got home late last night after Nu had already gone to bed, so I thought Nu would want some At time at breakfast, but Nu decided for a Saturday sleep-in instead. Fair. Also, At was in a hurry this morning and didn't say goodbye to Nu. Understandable. The thing is... ever since I read Cheryl Strayed's Wild, where the siblings become estranged after their mom dies, I've been hit by the fear that my kids will lose touch with each other as grownups if I'm not around. 

How's that for a nice morbid thought? Ok... back to grading.

Pic: Grey skies and a glassy Red Cedar River; I love the curving tree in the foreground.

on an internet kind of day

I can go incandescent 

                                       waiting, for you--

are lunatic with longing 

doing wondrous things--

                                        and where we are

there is time for refuge 

use your words, as they say

                                         call out to me--either

I didn't catch your name

or I forgot how to say it 

                                          in English

you laugh in confusion 

tell me how you found

                                           a way--without 

saying where it might be

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Thanks to Mel at Stirrup Queens for the shoutout on her 922nd Friday Blog Roundup. As always, when I get a shoutout from Mel, it coincides with other good publication news--this time the editorial go-ahead on a WGS-related book project.

as for myself

I've sunk narcissus bulbs

into dark, stony places 

                                                 pushing them down into dirt

                                                 hoping they'll rise...

my random presents to myself

mirroring blessing

                                                  as the weeks arrive, curving

                                                  into Christmas

I yearn for their spiky baroque

their green resilience

                                                  to lift color into the cold air

                                                  rustling me to worship 

for a fragrance--so like flames  

to rescue me from winter

a "class" picture

My capstone students did such great work on their finals this week. 

I look forward to all the conference presentations that are going to evolve out of their work here over the next few months...
 

Hope as a draft

EM to dinner tonight, and I finally got to give her the "Hope is a form of planning" journal I got at the NWSA book fair (EM and I are working on the idea of hope in the classroom). Also just realized from research googling that it's a quote from Gloria Steinem.

I have a lot of stuff about hope saved in an email draft--everyone from Mariame Kaba to Audre Lorde is on it. And also this solid article of how to deal with "hope fatigue" by Lesley Alderman.

It's nice to read this draft as it never fails to cheer me up. 

(I suppose that's a good thing as I'm feeling a bit shaky currently. I teared up when I dropped Big A off at the train station and then cried in the car on hearing this fairly standard radio story because they talked about the 25th anniversary of Purple Rain. Something is going on with me, and I'm not sure what it is yet. Yes, I wish Prince were still in this world, but surely, it wasn't just that?) 

Pic: Book Club over the weekend. Being with them gives me hope. 

from a distance

hope is heavy
her mouth is pulled out of shape 
with worry

          she thinks
          bruises are the sharp edge of love  
          in skin's own ink

but in the water

she floats, weighs nothing at all

it anchors her 

          to meaning

          she can break down in answers

          then drink it in 

simply

A cold day, but beautiful. 

Walks with some of my favorite people: L, Big A,  me...

Pic: An icy Red Cedar River

uff... life

Life is always bewildering and some days are just a big punch... even from a distance. 

Yesterday, YS friends were cheerfully posting links to Steven Bognar's documentary about Jazz DJ Steve Schwerner.*

By the end of the day, my feed was filled with news that Julia Reichert, Steven Bognar's partner, had passed away. 

I was lying awake sometime after 3 am thinking about Steve Bognar and how up and down and all around life is.... And then I started thinking about Steve Schwerner. And how his rich and meaningful life is always overshadowed by the immense sacrifice of his brother Michael's life and death. 

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

*The documentary begins in our old Yellow Springs house, which we lived in after the Schwerners, and it was interesting to peek at a time before we lived there.

wildest dreams: Taylor, Judy, Betty, Nu

Nu had to come to Alma with me to see the dentist, so there was a lot of Taylor Swift on our commute. I really wish I could have scored some Taylor Swift concert tickets as a Christmas present for Nu, but the online lines were interminable and the price was prohibitive--more expensive than any present I've ever bought anyone, probably. After a point, I just gave up.

But one of Nu's other dreams came true today--he was able to spend some time with Judy and Betty--MB's brindled mice. Nu has always loved mice--until today only in theory and as stuffed animals--and was amazingly gentle and confident playing with them. Judy and Betty--named for the sisters in White Christmas will retire from their work as lures for the kestrels MB is banding--so their job is to act cute and tasty--at the end of Jan. At which point, MB would like to offer them to Nu as a present.  It'll be an uphill battle convincing Big A, but Nu and I together can be pretty formidable. (I'm terrified and ick-ed by mice, frankly; but Nu enjoys them so much.)

Pic: Nu with Judy.

imagine: rice, flour, oil, sugar, and beans

I post some version of this reminder that food banks benefit most from cash donations every year. This is as much for me as for people I know. It's always tempting to add extra peanut butter-beans-cereal to my grocery cart to feed my "larger family."  It's always satisfying to imagine that some other children (and I always imagined they were children) would be able to make a snack out of things I'd picked up. And of course when the kids were younger, it was a tangible way to teach caring. But giving to food banks is not supposed to be about how it makes me feel. 

So I've been good about cash contributions. 

But when The Refugee Development Center in town started taking up in-kind donations for Welcome Boxes, I signed right up to bring rice, flour, oil, sugar, and beans. If I were displaced and in a new place, I imagine I could make something my family might recognize from those supplies. I would want to.

There is a passage in Robert J.C. Young* that always resonates with students--where we're asked to imagine ourselves as refugees, to imagine the break in the daily routines of living... like discussing the day's menu with a neighbor. I think about that passage often. 

Anyway, Nu and I dropped off lots of supplies this evening. I could have easily done it before I picked Nu up from their remedial (whole other story!) class at school. But I kind of liked the idea of doing something together that would get Nu out of their own thoughts and social loops for a while.

* Also, that book is the ONLY time ever where I'm listed right next to Homi Bhabha (in the "Acknowledgements").

storyteller

I wake wanting to be

inside the side 
you are on                  to step outside my body 

                                   threading through

                                   discarded stories                your departures guiding me

                                                                               through volcanic swirls

                                                                               so swaha / shanti

                                    I'm ready to swallow fire 
                                    unwrap smoke shapes
                                    hold revelation

when you nod, mouth "now"

I'll know how right away

to rehearse my life