"Do something every day. That can be something small"

This reminder from Gabriel Valdez was immensely helpful to me today. I wish it were published somewhere, but it isn't, so I'm saving it here.

"Part of the feeling of helplessness right now is this idea that you don't know some big thing you can do. But why would you expect that from yourself? Do something every day. That can be something small - a call to an elected official, getting a friend to call an elected official for the first time. It can be getting in touch with a local charity or volunteer organization. It can be reaching out to someone you know is already doing work and seeing what they might need, in that work or as an ear to listen so that they can go back to that work refreshed.

I want to stress this: These are all things you know how to do. These are all easy things. Remarkably easy things. Do one every day.

Your job right now is not to do the big shit that changes things. A stone is not a mountain on its own. Your job is to do something small but measurable every day that ensures you are not the one being moved off your norms, that ensures you are connecting to community around you.

And yes kindness and yes hope, but god damn it, you don't wait for those things, you make them. A job to be done still needs to be done, regardless of the measurement of your hope. You feel hopeful. Make a call. Reach out. You don't feel hopeful. Make a call. Reach out.

Hope is not produced in a fugue state. Hope is not produced by thinking about producing hope. Hope is the result of action, small, large, doesn't matter. Just matters that you do it.

Kindness is not the result of feeling kind, it is the result of what you do that is kind. Do something kind. Do something hopeful. And then you will be kind and hopeful. That's how it works; it's the only way it works.

You can't identify what needs to be done next if you aren't doing the simple things that can be done now. None of us is in a state to feel we're ready. OK. What's that matter? If you're packing for a trip, you aren't magically ready. You put shit in a suitcase first. If you run a marathon, you aren't magically ready. You train, starting with the small stuff. None of us is ready, but we understand readiness in every other facet of life as the small steps that get us there.

Readiness requires doing the things directly in front of you that get you ready. That's the job of the moment. Do it, or you won't be ready for whatever the hell the job of the next moment is, and that's going to feel a lot shittier than anything we're feeling now.

Things need to be done. Many of them are easy. Do one every day."

__________________________

Pic: This herd of deer was my welcome committee when I got home today. I don't know what was so delicious right there on the driveway, but they didn't want to move. I get no respect. 

"life is never just one thing"

I didn't see Big A at all today. He'd worked an overnight in Ann Arbor and I left for work an hour before dawn to make it to an 8 am meeting. By the time I got home after a late evening at work, he'd already left for work again. 

But to quote Connie Schultz, "Life is never just one thing;" other than that, it was a lovely day. 

We inducted new members to the English honorary and it's always such a delight to see students dressed up for the occasion and meet their families. I mean... you think you see your students grow in the classroom and love their work and the people they are and then you meet their families and it's a whole new level of understanding how much they're cherished, seeing the wonder their grownups have about these humans they have made in one way or another. It's kind of transcendent. 

Also, somehow I was going to place an order with the catering company and then decided to do it myself and found myself after classes at MacCurdy (the feminist house I advise) borrowing their oven to heat up trays of hors d'oeuvres. And also, I have the best colleagues... ok, the best women colleagues--who seamlessly did everything from setup to clear-up. The whole evening was busy and bright and social and fun--all the stuff I adore. 

And then when I came home I was so tired I couldn't even bear the sound of the loud TV show Nu (who had no school today and has no school tomorrow because of our frigid temps) had on. I just wanted to sit with my arms around my babies for while. Then Nu went to bed, I FaceTimed my sister for her birthday (it's already her birthday in India!), and then snuggled up to read with Max and Huck.

Pic: This treat of lovely words and signature shortbread was waiting for me after my first class today. I did work hard today, but this wasn't about that. It's from a lovely and private colleague in another department and says way more about their wonderfulness than anything it might imply about me.

"practice the art of resilience"

Many things did not go according to plan today--I got behind on a couple of tasks, my massage therapist canceled, I broke one of my favorite dishes as I was readying dinner, I burnt two parathas and also my hand, I accidentally heard a few snippets of news about the inauguration, and was surprised and saddened by news that Cecile Richards had died (that's when I lost focus and burned my hand, actually)...

But the title of this article played in my head like a mantra: "With their lives upended, they practiced the art of resilience." It's a story about a new exhibition at the Smithsonian featuring the work of three Japanese-American artists, two of whom had been incarcerated in internment camps during World War II. One of them, Miné Okubo, later wrote the book Citizen 13660 about her life in the camps--Big A's grandfather, Harold, was instrumental in getting that book published as she notes in the introduction. 

We'd been talking about taking a trip to D.C. to see the exhibition yesterday because of this connection... But also, I'll take every reminder of people going through terrible times and making it out to the other side. 

Pic: Nu showing me which kid they resemble on one of our treasured Miné Okubos--She gave Big A's grandparents a few of her paintings as gifts over the years they stayed in touch.

on the eve of an orange apocalypse

I've decided to pay the inauguration no attention. In my book, it's Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day--I will be observing events related to that. I feel flags should still be at half-staff in honor of Jimmy Carter's death. 

Like Robert Reich, who has lived through McCarthy and Nixon, I too want to acknowledge that tomorrow might be a terrible day, and I too believe that our resilience and decency will get us through. 

Connie Schultz on perhaps her last visit to Sherrod Brown's D.C. office today noted, "So much change coming for our country. But I heard our grandchildren’s laughter nearby and felt the hope in that. Life is never one thing." Life is never one thing. Yes, that's true as well.

Tomorrow, I have a ton of work to get through and MLK Day events to attend. I'm meeting a friend for tea. I have a massage scheduled. At is coming to family dinner; I'm making a family favorite--egg paratha rolls. Look how inconsequential 47 is to all of these good things. Instead of responding to the circus (that way lies madness and despair), my focus is going to be on building up community and solidarity outside the system. Soon enough it will be midterms with a chance to make governmental change.

Pic: L's picture from Saturday's Lansing Women's March in protest against the incoming administration. I had an admissions event at work and couldn't go, so L sent me pictures to show me what I missed. There are so many people who are working so hard on our side.

a solution

Pic: An image of the Leo P Dwarf Galaxy sent back from NASA's James Webb telescope.

How amazing that we can do this... And how amazing that this is out there for us to see... And for all the kindness and consideration I experience in my own life, for all the decency I see every day... in say, people walking their shopping carts back to the corral like they were toddlers who'd be at risk by themselves in the parking lot... I'll still hear reports of an unhoused person run over by a bulldozer.  Or while thankful  that the ceasefire in Gaza has finally taken effect, I'll wonder who decided airstrikes should be amped up after the ceasefire was announced. 

I wish there was a way to take the good people I have in my life and make them be in charge of everything to avoid these bottomless petty cruelties.

it's her birthday, and I don't want her to cry (or even want to)

My sister's birthday is coming up next week and I'm so excited for her to see my present: it's a pair of  necklaces--one with her name in Greek as a memento of our trip together last year and another with her name in hieroglyphics looking forward to our proposed trip to Egypt in a few years. 

But today I woke up to a text she'd sent me (just me, not on family chat) that her job seemed to be in jeopardy. She's already started looking, but she's at the very top (the next level is CEO) and thinks there aren't any openings. This makes me very worried for her (she loves what she does) and how it will affect her dynamic with her partner (I'm not a fan). And also, our parents are on her health insurance (it always boggles my mind that parents aren't considered family enough to be on your health insurance in the U.S.) etc. I'll certainly have to step up in many more ways if my sister's job disappears. 

Also, what terrible timing! It's her birthday on Wednesday! I know corporations don't know or care that it's your birthday, but it doesn't keep my sadness or outrage away. 

Pic: Today was another super long day, and it's still cold, with more snow on the way--but when I went out with Max and Huck after a few hours of work, the sun was coming up. I pulled my shoulders away from my ears, and pressed reset on the day. 

tipping our hats

Today, Nu was remembering a baby book called Go, Dog, Go! much of whose plotline (if we remember right) consists of one dog asking another if they liked their hat to which the other dog replies they do not like their hat. (So many hats, Engie!). 

We were discussing if this was (a) radical and friendly honesty--the second dog not liking the first one's hat did not cause any bad feelings or (b) negging--with the second dog keeping the first one on their toes so they would keep coming back. It occurred to me at that point that Nu had always been such a good liberal arts classroom discussant. And I'm so happy to say that Nu got into the college they wanted over the holidays. Given their first two rocky years of high school, this was not at all a given. But they've managed to overcome a lot of those early impediments (complicated no doubt by the pandemic and pandemic schooling) and even got a persuasive college essay out of it. Hopes and prayers for my Nu.

Speaking of things evolving to reach maturity, I remember taking At and a baby Nu to a conference on the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) in New York because I didn't have childcare. We had to leave early because, unlike At who as a baby loved going to classes and conferences (or at least was calm when I went), Baby Nu was having none of it. (There was an embarrassing moment where Nu arched their back and slipped straight out of the baby carrier--while I was on stage. It's a wonder I wasn't reported to the U.N.) Anyway, that conference attendance evolved into an idea, then a paper, and now is a book chapter that's coming out later this year; I'm Chapter 12.

Pic: The Portage River in the falling snow. I haven't been outside much in this somewhat breathless week, so this is still from the weekend's hike.