other lives

I've been immersing myself in a ton of fiction lately--anything to take my mind off the news. It has been pretty eclectic. I started the week with a reread of Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49--I have a faint memory of reading it for an undergrad American Litt. class. I wonder if I skimmed it, and how many of the references I got back then. It's stuck in my memory as a book with several weird sexual situations. 

I've since moved on to what I took to be a romance set in Havana (free on my Kindle). I thought I'd be irritated with its anti-revolutionary stance since the first chapter was about some Batista cronies fleeing, but it actually goes back and forth in time and among various classes quite well. 

Next up is going to be Curtis Sittenfeld's Romantic Comedy, which I found at the thrift store for a dollar and forty-nine cents when I went looking for old vases. I've always enjoyed Sittenfeld but recently she mentioned someone I know in her acknowledgments and that has cemented her standing in my reading lists forever.

I'm also watching shows I used to watch in the 90s (Frasier, Felicity); they're kind of calming and help me fall asleep. 

Pic: I was looking forward to taking pictures of the moon this evening, but it's suddenly quite cloudy.

Here's a picture of a squirrel looking straight at me instead. 

I am not alone

I live for the broad roofs

of wide skies lately
I'm thinking of making up 

my own cosmology

a sister sun, a mother moon
I'll urge on a webbing,

make belonging a whole world 
build like an animal

trusting one, another, and another 

where all of us are lost
--and it's okay and it's expected 

as everywhere is safe

kindness a patina to shine on  

the knots of this world

this goddamned beautiful world 

winding down slowly

surely, but still with so many

of those we love here...

still here, so I release to air

the ones who 

have been handfuls of sawdust

and ash

to live on as kin and stardust

everywhere 

_______________________________

Pic: Sunset today over the Maple on my way home. 

bleak week

I'm having a tough time this week. It's not that I can't go on... I am. But I keep feeling like I can't... On the surface, things look normal, but it feels like my sense of reality is being eroded--like the sandy shore slipping from under my feet in a dream yesterday. 

What's it all for if I can see the horror every day and am absolutely incapable of saving a single child? The amputations and caesareans without anesthesia, the firing at U.N. food distribution camps, the six-year-old calling emergency services trapped in a car full of her dead family... This is truly the stuff of horror.  And yet.... yet again... The U.S. has vetoed a ceasefire in Gaza for the third time. A ceasefire! 

BOL's cat who saw them through undergrad and grad school died and I want to be there to support them the way they supported me when Scout was dying... But also, it brought me back to that month of slowly losing Scout... the dread of every day. I'm surprised that it will be a whole year without my darling in just about two months.

Pic: E.D. Wilson's poem "My Phone is Full of Cute Cats and Dead Children."

The Sun: a poem and a pic

Mary Oliver: The Sun
Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower...

Full poem here: http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/oliver_thesun.html 

Pic: Sunset on my way home. Despite everything, the beauty of our world is just so breathtaking...

updates

Good:  Big A's test results came back--nothing terrifying to report.
But:     The original symptoms persist. 

*

Good:  My stretch of overwork and late work evenings is mostly over.
But:     This week I scheduled two more late work evenings for March.

*
Good:   Participating in a teach-in panel on Gaza with the college YDSA in mid-March.

But:      Worrying about bothsideism from fellow-panelists.

*
[Pic] 

Good:    Big A, Huck, Max, and me on a post-dinner walk with a fabulous sunset ahead of us.
 But:     Don't look too closely at Big A's left hand. Ha.

some backstory... and a Boss Day

Some backstory to yesterday's poem.

Our grandmothers were first cousins, so Sunil was a distant cousin--although that doesn't matter much in the  Indian context (something that's unclear in the poem, and I should work on it). Our grandmothers were as close as sisters--closer, as they had no sisters and lived in a big joint-family mansion where they had private tutors--so they were together all the time. They were really close--they always talked about how they breastfed each other's babies so their babies would feel like siblings and think of them (their aunts) as mothers too.  

It didn't work out exactly like that. My mother would go to her aunt when she fought with her mom, but later there was some family drama (our grandmothers fell out in their sixties) and mystery (things people won't talk about). Stuff that came out as what Nicole rightly called "mixed things." Nance found the ending surprising--something else I'm working on. I was trying to express how it felt to have someone in my peer group die... like the beginning of the end. As I mentioned in a comment to StephLove, Sunil died of a heart attack, so that feels as though our bodies are going. 

Pic: It's the puppies' Boss Day! Huck and Max got new lick pads and love them. 

(It's not their actual Boss Day, but it was too bewildering for Scout and Huck when we celebrated them individually, so we picked the 18th of the month to celebrate a puppy Boss Day. Max's "smile" cracks me up.)

the first cousin to die

for Sunil

I'm always eight, you're always fourteen

in the long time ago that lasts forever 

I know now I'll never see you again

you have other people to haunt and anyway

 they probably want to hang with you--

the dad you lost at two, your young uncle...

all those men in your family who died young

it's why your mother, grandmother, sister 

 dote on you, as if to try to keep you forever 

I wondered how you had more friends than books

I confused you too--I remember when you 

congratulated me about my school exams, 

and seemed so confused why it was important...

 I mean--you were so rich you didn't have to work

--and I don't think you did even at 40, right?

but you were always kind... if a bit ganja-fueled 

when a single kindness could keep me happy

for days. I wonder at my dad saying

I shouldn't be alone with you... I feel you loved 

my gentle dad, wished he were yours

in the sheerness of the childhood--

which brightened us up... now only if this end

too could lift us up... instead it sets us adrift... 

as if to warn us we're going... extinct 

_________________________________________

Pic: An icy, windy day--but oh, such brilliantly blue, sunshiny skies. A long walk with Big A to the MSU Baseball stadium. 

what we do

the sky is full of bright 

holes, so whatever falls

from  them  is starry-- 

starting from distance 

but  now  lodged here

like empathy turned

into  a fact,  eternal

and  then carefully

teaching us to crest 

in  announcements

on  days  when  our

world seems ready to 

ignite, we can shout:

"I love you so much"

in a room of strangers

_________________________________

Pic: Max and Nu in yesterday's surprise snow. 

in every register

my thoughts grow still 

in a landscape slowing

with  sleep, reckoning

now embalms the day

today  I  have  filled

my  heart  again  and 

again... today I willed

my soul to feel beauty 

for on learning in me 

the enduring vapor 

of stars; the brilliant 

 brevities of  flowers

I choose from the new

the needed next step... 

I will see the end arrive

still speaking only love 

_____________

Pic: Saying goodbye to Huckie and Maxie is the toughest part of my morning.

love notes

We (Big A and I) don't celebrate Valentine's Day. We celebrate other days like the anniversary of our first and epic date, etc. But I LOVE elementary-school-style Valentine's Days: Candy for all! Cards for all!

I tried to recreate a little bit of that olde magic in class yesterday with a "Pal-entine's Day" celebration--there was candy and stickers people could share with each other. I expected to merely be the facilitator but some people made little notes for me too. I love the one that said, "Thank you for creating an inclusive classroom for all and expanding my love of literature." I love my students. 

I already gave the fam their V-Day treasures and treats, and it was just Nu, Huck, Max, and me at home today (Big A is in Milwaukee). I felt Nu might need some extra love so I picked up a few treats (ice-cream, Krispy Kremes, Kit-Kats) when I gassed up the car on my way home and made some heart-shaped caramel and chocolate cookies. Nu's delight was everything. I love Nu so much.

And my gal-pals took care of me. Lovely LD sent me a Galentine's Day care package via mail that had some serious Sephora goodies and a powdered drink mix I can't wait to try on the weekend. JG said I was her favorite Galentine and sent me a picture from Costa Rica of a howler monkey (!), and I nearly lost it when KB said she was loving me "from afar" (I MISS KB!!!!). I love my women friends. 

Pic: A jumble of V-Day stuff on the counter today. Also: the Spring planting catalog arrived in the mail like a present from the universe. 

an unhappy anniversary

That was quick... I guess it was just last year that there was an active shooter on the MSU campus with three students shot dead and five more critically injured (they all survived, thankfully). And this was on the heels of a scare and lockdown at Nu's high school just the week before.

The local radio station has carried stories about the anniversary all day with some segments on national radio too.

I remember being triggered by sirens two weeks later, but that seems to have faded now. What a difference a year makes. And it's amazing all the rubbish my human brain can grow used to and normalize. 

Pic: MSU students working on a commemorative message at the 'spirit rock' on Sunday.