The Doable

L and I found this quarter-sized painted rock by the river this morning. It was a pleasure to discover and sure to be a treasure for someone who needs something like this right now.

I took this pic to share with Nu so we too could leave something cheery for others on the road.

I love the simplicity of this piece, as it reminds me that things needn't be extraordinary to bring succor.

It is doable; I can do this much.

This month I want to focus on what I can do, and I want to do it.

Going High

Out with L after a long two weeks of quarantine and the light as we came out from under the dinginess of Beal St. bridge was... radiant.

I'm thinking of protestors all over the world and thanking them for their radiance too.

Childhood's fave cousin (now ideological opponent) sent pictures of angry protestors  to the cousin chat-group hoping all of us were safe. I affirmed our safety and added an arch statement about militarized police being the real problem.

And all he said in reply was how glad we he was that we were all safe.

I guess I'm the asshole now.

"Indian Non-Binary Menarche Celebration"

Perhaps there was something portentous about the red lilies Nu planted this week... we celebrated with the red velvet cake they decided was appropriate. Big A made them a card with a "Congratulations" followed by a giant period and we all thought that was hilarious--that morning's laughter was definitely a celebration. But the South Indian in me needed to celebrate Nu more.

I googled "Indian Non-Binary Menarche Celebration" and got nothing. My own menarche was marked by a wedding-level gala replete with catering and professional videographer--but it was too focused on "womanhood and fertility." (It wasn't as lavish as this video I found online, but quite close!)

So we did things our way. We got grandparents and aunts on video calls and read Nu a dedication that focused on their maturity, strength... their ability to reinvent themselves. We kept some elements of the traditional ceremony--anointing with turmeric but connecting its deep roots and healing capabilities with family; playing Carnatic music, but especially Bharati's song about his "kannama" hoping Nu would appreciate the fluidity with which he uses this feminine form of endearment for Lord Krishna. At brewed them a pot of spearmint from his own veggie plot, Grandma S made them a slideshow, the Bangalore grandparents and A Pinni beamed the whole time, N Pinni read them Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise."

Nu got the traditional trays of offerings (fruit, pampering products, books, and a ton of girlie presents), and we added rainbow-themed sandals, bag, visor, and sweetened the deal further with unlimited screen time for the rest of the day.  I think the pictures do a good job of demonstrating my earnestness and Nu's own enjoyment in all the ceremonial love. 😍 😍 

Update

Our entryway Ganesha was rooting for him!

Big A is home from NYC (yay!). He came home earlier than scheduled (yay!) because he'd developed viral pneumonia (boo!) but he was experiencing chest pains, so hearing it was *just* pneumonia was kind of a relief actually (yay?). He's tested negative for COVID (YAY!!) but his x-ray patterns indicate that it could be early-stage COVID (boo). He drove himself home from NYC because he didn't want to expose people on the plane to whatever it is he has... and that's just the kind of awesome person+doctor he is. (YAY for him!)

All told, I've been quite relieved to have him back home. But still a little salty about folks undertaking the unnecessary risks and exposure that makes it necessary for Big A to undertake risk and exposure.

Anyway. Big sigh. Relief.

Sitting Witness

Although my dad is more likely to read the sports section of a newspaper than pick up a book of poetry, his school experience of the Tamil poet Subramania Bharati would get him so fired up that he'd declaim "Thani oru manithanakku unavu illayenil intha jagaththinai azhithiduvom" frequently. So I'm no stranger to Bharati's radical outrage, the threat/aspiration to burn the whole world down if even one person is harmed. 

 I can mourn the horrific murders in the midst of this pandemic of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd and don't find myself distracted by other actions a grieving people may undertake. But in case anyone hears it, thinks it, or needs it--here is a lovely primer of "How to respond to 'riots never solve anything.'"

And please donate, if you can. Every one of us with a credit card in this family (At, Big A, I) have donated independently of each other this time.

https://payit2.com/fundraiser/98548… (@BlackVisionsMN)
https://secure.everyaction.com/zae4prEeKESHBy0MKXTIcQ2… (@reclaimtheblock)
https://unicornriot.ninja/donate/ (@UR_Ninja)
https://gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

Two Months +

I was hit with an intense wave of nostalgia for things the way they used to be a few months ago when I stopped by college to water my plants and pick up some books.

Plants are doing fine;
i need to tidy some shelves.

I didn't see ANYONE--it made me yearn for colleagues or students and prompted me to wonder if the somewhat outdated model of faculty offices would be another casualty of the pandemic.

Will all the years of shared office space through grad school and adjuncting, yearning for an office of my own, and then finally earning an office with a tiny window have been for nothing?

At read me his thesis on John Brown as we drove north, and we were both surprised how quickly we seemed to get to the Maple River.

Muddy Darling

Nu: Very muddy and so very darling.

At has been busy with writing his thesis, so this week Nu has been a superstar planting ground-cover and honeysuckle and viburnum and lilacs and lilies...

(Deer have already eaten the lilacs and lilies., but we're hoping they--plants not deer--can recover and make a comeback.)