Okay, this is new...

RH, an old student I've kept in touch with via FB, sent this screenshot for reference and wrote to say he's been contracted to write for a game called Wildsea and that he based an NPC (non playing character) on me. 

To say I'm grateful to be remembered is an understatement. 🥰 And then I was very moved that my character is a teacher/mentor. 😭

It was only when I attached the screenshot here and looked at the name again that I realized that the character Dorma Laspra's name is a composite made of the beginning syllables of each of my two first and two last names. 

🥰 😭 🥰 😭 🥰 😭 🥰 😭

I'm kinda crying now, in case you couldn't tell. 

s/unlit

In the midst of mounting excitement about the start of the new school year, it was a shock to hear two people who'd been at the college died unexpectedly on Monday. I didn't know either of them very well, but I knew of them; I feel their loss. 

Tall T, a student who graduated about five years ago was a basketball star and while I never saw him play, I knew him from his work in the admissions office, met him when he accompanied new students to my office, and appreciated how he helped me troubleshoot software problems more than once. I am particularly grateful for the way he tried to reassure me that these problems happen to everyone. I can see his smile as he says we shouldn't worry about it to me and the students we were assisting. I hadn't seen him in a few years, and it makes me sad that now I never will. I'm sad his smile--that used to dawn slowly, indulgently--is no longer in this world somewhere...

J worked in the janitorial department--I don't think I ever met her, but her four kids go to college here and E, her oldest, was in my environmental literature class. I remember J through the concern E had for the chemicals her mother was exposed to on a daily basis. So this is a tenuous connection, but that's how I met her--through E's words; that's how I held her in my head, my heart, and classroom. 

I'm grieving for T and J and their families. Death is so weird in its finality... and yet we're such a small community that every person presence reverberates in us all. 

Pic: Huge and droopy sunflower

only connect

so open that door 

or open this book

I open my mouth 

wait for an answer 

                           ...answer always already  

                           the knocking of my heart

                            promises folding around  

                             surrounding me like love

                                                               ...love you, for I love you 

                                                                 and I know how I love you

                                                               every one of you, I know you

                                                               can remind me of no one else 

Pic: Picnic at KV's... so many generations of women and children. I appreciated this lovely summer afternoon with Nu: destressing, snacking, reconnecting, and cuddling babies. (It was especially welcome after an all-morning, in-person meeting for our departmental re-visioning.)

India at 75

After a few writers shared it on FB, I've been reading this WONDERFUL collection of 75 writers on India's 75th birthday from PEN all day and bugging my cousins to read it too.

Each piece is so beautiful in its own way and every piece is so poignantly regretful about the way the promise of India--a secular, multicultural, pluralistic democracy--is sliding out of grasp. 

The slide towards authoritarianism and religious fundamentalism in my country of birth (and my country of residence) makes me sad on a daily basis. I nearly cried when one of my cousins said that since everything is only about Hindu values now, we wouldn't have the friends--Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Parsi, communist, atheist, etc.--we'd had if we were growing up in India today. 

I tried to share something from the PEN anthology, but how could I pick just one? 

Easy like Sunday...

A sweet, fulfilling, and unhurried day from UU in the morning to yoga in the evening. Weekend chores completed, some prep for the weekday started. 

Some things didn't happen--Pride got rained out on Saturday, grocery shopping didn't happen today... we did get Insomnia Cookies delivered both days though 🙃.

My sense of content is overlaid by the knowledge that there's a train ticket back to Milwaukee on Big A's phone for tomorrow.

And that Nu and I start school next week. I should remember to do weekends like this when we're back. 

Pic: (secular) stained glass at UU Lansing. 

rakhi talk

I felt overtaken by the news yesterday, but it was a good day for my little family. 

At came over and the four of us headed to the movies (for the first time since the pandemic?). We saw Nope (I'm still processing). 

Back home, we had a nice puja for Rakhi. Traditionally, sisters tie rakhis on their brothers' wrists, but we've been bypassing gender and species rules for years now, so At, Nu, Scout, and Huck all promise to love and protect each other. I wish my sister and I had done this for each other instead of bemoaning the fact that we didn't have brothers all those years ago. We always did the love and protection--we should have gotten the bracelets too.

Pic: Nu's bracelets at breakfast this morning (I forgot to take photos yesterday). 

Sir Salman

Really unsettled today by the stabbing suffered by Salman Rushdie, whose brilliant and provocative work is the basis for whole disciplines. I and hosts of others made academic articles/positions/reputations based on his work. And he was always so amiable and cordial every time I met him. 

I'm not a fan of his later work, recent politics, or aspects of his personal life (I stopped buying his books when he supported Roman Polanski), but I cannot forget how breathtaking and eye-opening Midnight's Children was when I first read it or how poignant Haroun and the Sea of Stories was when it came out ... I remember thinking I didn't know you're allowed to do this with language... I didn't know you were allowed to write about this... 

I hope he makes a full recovery. 

Back in 2006, I copied this extract from an article in The Telegraph:

It has not escaped his attention that living under a fundamentalist threat was once a solo occupation for him. Now we all are.

"That's true," he says cheerfully. "And I think we all are in the end making the same choice that I made all those years ago which was, you just have to get on with your life. You know, in the end, that is all you can do."