201...

31 May 2020:

"I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand to dress wounds,
I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,
One turns to me his appealing eyes—poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you." --Whitman, "The Wound Dresser"

One year ago, we celebrated Walt's 200th birthday with joy and optimism. Today, as my country is in such pain and turmoil and the darkness seems unending, I keep thinking about these lines from "The Wound Dresser." Whitman's speaker repeatedly goes to his knees in the face of such pain--an image that resonates so powerfully today--and is determined to do what he can. There, on his knees, he is better able to serve and help, but he is also humbled, in the gesture of seeking supplication and perhaps even of prayer.

He's also not a soldier; he is old, with creaking knees, and arriving after the fight. The fight isn't his, but of course it is.

So yeah...thinking about it a lot today.

Porch visit

30 May 2020: Got to do some porch-sitting with two of my favorite people for the first time in 2.5 months. Cory said, "make sure it's clear we are 6 feet apart!"

"Democracy"

29 May 2020:

"Democracy"
Langston Hughes

Democracy will not come
Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.

Freedom
Is a strong seed
Planted
In a great need.

I live here, too.
I want freedom
Just as you.

Mystery book...

28 May 2020: By "mystery book," I mean a book that shows up at your house that you didn't order. I have a pretty good idea of who sent me the book (waiting for confirmation), but regardless, it's a lovely, thoughtful thing to do and reminds me that I might be lonely, but I am not alone.

Reunion at the dentist...

27 May 2020: When I had my last dental cleaning in November, I scheduled my next appointment. The hygienist, who I adore, told me that my buddy Carrie had just been in the day before. Since Carrie's husband usually has to drive her (she doesn't drive), we decided to schedule our next cleanings on the same day, one right after the other. "You can make an afternoon of it--go get lunch! Have fun!" the hygienist (Alisa) said.

Fast forward to today and a whole new world in so many ways. Got to the dentist and saw James waiting in the car in the parking lot. Following the new procedures in place, I called the office to let them know I was there. Alisa came out, took my temperature, and asked some screening questions. We went in and, for the most part, it was a normal cleaning. (There are a couple of tools she can't use anymore because of CDC guidelines.)

In some ways, it all felt kind of normal. I love Alisa and the dentist and it was good to see them and talk with them both, even with layers of protective gear. And Alisa made sure I got to talk to Carrie in person, as she was leaving and I was mid-cleaning. I kind of looked at her upside down and saw her face in person (not counting Zoom) for the first time since March 13. Weird and strange and sad and wonderful.

Coyotes? Sure. Why not?

26 May 2020: We got an email about today warning that there are coyotes on campus. Yikes! (Unless they want to enroll. Then we can talk. Distance-learning is the only option for coyote students, of course.) 2020 sure is something else.

Slow day...

25 May 2020: Find myself struggling with a stomach bug today. It's mostly pretty bad cramping. It started coming on last night and I am guessing the anxiety it triggered gave me some very weird (and bad) dreams and rather fitful rest otherwise. Woke up moving slowly, took my walk early, and have been more or less in slow-motion mode since then. I even napped on and off from 11:00-2:30, which is just not something I do. Grateful for a day where I didn't have to be anywhere so I can loaf this way, even if it also makes me quite blue. Grateful for books to read. Grateful for dumb TV to watch. Grateful for my sweet cats. Grateful for a sunny day that isn't too hot. Grateful for birds singing outside. Just trying to be grateful in the midst of it all.

(Also can't stop thinking about how these are the sorts of bugs you pick up from other people, which means I picked it up even while social distancing pretty darn well. Scary.)

Book club...

24 May 2020: Today was first meeting of a little Zoom book club I've been invited to join. It was really quite enjoyable to talk with folks about a book and not think about everything else for a bit.

Sunny snoozing...

23 May 2020:

"ars pasifika"

22 May 2020:

"ars pasifika"
Craig Santos Perez

when the tide


of silence


rises


say “ocean”


then with the paddle


of your tongue


rearrange


the letters to form


“canoe”

Zoom pick-me-up...

21 May 2020: A little over a week ago, I posted about some of the limitations of Zoom hangouts in helping us stay connected. Even then, though, I was more hesitant than the article I linked to. Tonight reminded me why: I went to a Zoom hangout with some of my favorite people in this town and it was just delightful from start to finish. Exactly what I needed, even if I still feel that ache over what we can't have back just yet.

Comfort...

20 May 2020: "When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid." -Psalms 56:3

So many thoughts in my head. Reminding myself of who is always there.

"Preface: Deciding to Live"

19 May 2020: "I did things I did not understand for reasons I could not being to explain just to be in motion, to be trying to do something, change something in a world I wanted desperately to make over but could not imagine for myself...That was all part of deciding to live, though I didn't know it." --Dorothy Allison, "Preface: Deciding to Live," the opening piece in Trash

Started reading Trash today. I have only read parts of it before, so I am looking forward to moving through the whole thing. Allison's words above--about how writing was part of her decision to live--is useful for me as I wade through her often painful work (that is, work filled with pain). Writing is a kind of push against the darkness, a reminder that telling painful stories can be a way to celebrate (perhaps quietly) enduring and surviving. 

Raylene...

18 May 2020: "I like my life the way it is, little girl. I made my life, the same way it looks like you're going to make yours--out of pride and stubborness and too much anger. You better think hard, Ruth Anne, about what you want and who you're mad at. You better think hard." --Raylene in Dorothy Allison's Bastard Out of Carolina

Finished rereading this book today and it's just as gutting as the first time. Actually, more so, since I am 20+ years older and it seems even more realistic and important than it did when I was 22. As I said earlier, in September I'm supposed to give a talk on Allison and diversity in Appalachian literature. On this read-through, Raylene, Bone's queer aunt, stood out to me. She cares for Bone in the end when her mother leaves her. She's not a fairy godmother who makes everything better, but she's fierce, flawed, and powerful. Her queerness in a broad sense gestures towards some kind of hope for the child at the center of the book. Really interesting...

"Dreamsicle"

17 May 2020: Treated myself to Jason Isbell's new album the other day and I'm really digging it so far. "Dreamsicle" seems to fit in kind of well with what I've blogged about the last two days: crystal clear images of youthful times; moments loaded with more meaning, even if the kid could only sense it and not fully understand them.

"the space-annihilating power of thought"

16 May 2020: “It is curious—the space-annihilating power of thought. For just one second, all that goes to make the me in me was in a Missourian village, on the other side of the globe, vividly seeing again these forgotten pictures of fifty years ago, and wholly unconscious of all things but just those; and in the next second I was back in Bombay, and that kneeling native’s smitten cheek was not done tingling yet! Back to boyhood—fifty years; back to age again, another fifty; and a flight equal to the circumference of the globe-all in two seconds by the watch!” --Mark Twain, Following the Equator

I'm working on a review of a new book about Twain and came across this passage in which he writes about being in Bombay and seeing an Indian boy struck by a white man. He is instantly transported in his mind back to his boyhood in Missouri and the memory of a slave suffering similar violence. It reminded me of yesterday's post and all of the thoughts I've been having since then.

"Your Wildest Dreams"

15 Mary 2020: Heard this song today on my very quick drive to pick up dinner from my favorite local Thai restaurant.

Found myself instantly transported back to 1986, riding in the minivan with my parents on a trip to Hartwick to see Tara. My dad had bought the tape for my mom, something he didn't do often because my mom didn't like a lot of new music. But she loved this song. They told us about how this was a comeback for The Moody Blues, a band from when they "were young," and a group I knew nothing about. I remember myself imagining them as "young" and settling into that thing you did when you were little--just listening to adults talking about old times from the front of the car.

The song itself is about nostalgia. And the lead singer was about my age (a bit younger, actually) when they had this big comeback. So lots to think about there...

Not all of my memories from back then are good, but this one is. And on the first day this season that felt like summer, when I pushed back the [moody--can't help myself] blues for a bit, this memory was a welcome one.

Porch update

14 May 2020: After adding the chair and ottoman earlier this month, I added a few more pieces to the porch. I think I like it?

Bastard Out of Carolina

13 May 2020: Re-reading this book for the first time since grad school in preparation for a talk I am supposed to give on campus in September (hard to imagine it happening in person, but who knows?). It's kind of amazing how much of it I remember over twenty years later. I could pick any number of passages to illustrate Allison's powerful prose, but here's just one, a description of her mother:

"There was only one way to fight off the pity and hatefulness. Mama learned to laugh with them, before they could laugh at her, and to do it so well no one could be sure what she really thought or felt. She got a reputation for an easy smile and a sharp tongue, and using one to balance the other, she seemed friendly but distant. No one knew that she cried in the night for Lyle and her lost happiness, that under that biscuit-crust exterior she was all butter grief and hunger, that more than anything else in the world she wanted someone strong to love her like she loved her girls."

Why Zoom calls are so tiring...

12 May 2020: "I’ve tried to parse what makes Zoom so exhausting for me. I feel like an emotionally bereft alien struggling to comprehend the mysteries of human connection. What makes a meatspace gathering a life-affirming source of intimacy, and a digital one a simulacrum? Hugging my friends is nice, but really, seeing and hearing them—and having them see and hear me—is what I like best about our time together. If I can do that just fine on my computer, why doesn’t it feel the same?"

Christina Cauterucci's piece on Slate, quoted above, feels quite validating. After all, just yesterday I posted about feeling lonely even with a couple of Zoom meetings and chats with folks. But like she explains (even sort of scientifically), it's not the same. And it can be draining.

This part is so good, too: "Then there’s the part where I have to look at myself. In real life, entire minutes can pass by without my thinking about the angle of my chin, the texture of my skin, or the shadows under my eyes. It’s much harder to feel fully immersed in the company of family or friends when my attention is split between the content of a conversation and a moving image of my own face. Each glance to check whether I’m properly framed in the video feed takes me out of the exchange, redirecting some of my scattered focus back toward myself and inhibiting the ego suppression that marks moments of true intimacy."

Cauterucci's article is called "I Will Not Be Attending Your Exhausting Zoom Gathering," with the subheading, "We should take comfort in hating this." I am not prepared to go that far. I don't really hate it. In fact, I'd rather Zoom with my favorite people than not see them.

But still...I just miss people.

"You'll Never Walk Alone"

11 May 2020: On a day that felt quite lonely, this video hit the spot. (As in, it made me sob.)

"Something to Love"

10 May 2020: Listened to this song earlier today. It's a really lovely set of wishes from a father to his daughter, but it feels appropriate for Mother's Day and graduation weekend. I think it's what I would tell my students as they head off into the world...

"I hope you find something to love,
Something to do when you feel like giving up.
A song to sing or a tale to tell.
Something to love
It'll serve you well..."

"Don't quite recognize the world that you call home.
Just find what makes you happy girl and do it 'til you're gone."

Graduation 2020

9 May 2020: What a strange graduation day, but we tried to make the most of it.

I watched the videos the university posted for the day and found myself getting choked up the moment I saw names of students I know. So yeah: graduation still gets all those emotions going, perhaps even more powerfully this year.

Later in the day, I got all dressed up for a Zoom celebration with our grads. Even put the bow-ties on the boys!

It wasn't much, but some of the best we can do for these fantastic students right now. I hope they know how proud I am of them and what a pleasure it was to teach them. I mean, I tell them and told them, but I hope they know how true it is.

An award and an email...

8 May 2020: Another rainy day. Another day of upsetting news. Another day of realizing how far we are from "normal." So, there's that...

What's adding some light? 

Well, here's a thing I actually found out about a week ago, but it's getting some social media reactions today. People have been so kind.

And then I got the perfect email from one of my ENGL 204 students today; it said everything I needed to hear. She had no reason to send it other than that she's a good person.

So, little things help, as I've said so many times.

"Spirit Song"

7 May 2020: Finding comfort today in this song I remember singing when I was a kid.

Student Awards

6 May 2020: Spent some time today creating individual social media posts (complete with pictures and award citations) for our department's annual student award recipients. Because I have limited software on my computer, it takes me a lot of steps to do each one: create it in Word, save as a pdf, convert the pdf to a jpg on a free web converter, crop the image, post to Instagram and Facebook. Repeat, repeat, repeat. But I don't mind the mindless nature of it too much. And it's been lovely to look at these students again and celebrate their achievements when we couldn't do so in person.

"Untitled"

5 May 2020: The news is hitting me a bit hard tonight. Feeling overwhelmed by the idea that leaders are putting money before science and human lives. It all feels so helpless and sad. So I went to The Academy of American Poets "Sheltering in Poems" collection and found one that helped.

"Untitled"
by James Baldwin

Lord,
          when you send the rain,
          think about it, please,
          a little?
  Do
          not get carried away
          by the sound of falling water,
          the marvelous light
          on the falling water.
    I
          am beneath that water.
          It falls with great force
          and the light
Blinds
          me to the light.

Little Miss Sunshine

4 May 2020: On my walk today, I passed a dad pushing a stroller with a little girl (maybe 3?) walking beside him. She stopped and said, "Hi! How are you doing today?" (We were on opposite sides of the street.)

I pulled out an ear bud and told her, "I am doing fine! How are you?"

"We're talking a walk!" she said.

"I like your sparkly shoes!" I told her.

She did what, in my experience, every little kid does when you compliment their shoes: she stomped her feet a bit.

"And I like your 'baby shark' t-shirt!"

She did what, in my experience, every little kid does when you compliment their shirt: looked down at it and kind of pulled it up so she could see it better.

The dad kept trying to get her to say "thank you" ("what do you say?" he kept asking her), but she was too busy looking at her shirt.

"Have a good day!" we told each other as we went our respective directions.

Delightful.

Oh, that one hits close to home...

3 May 2020: I haven't been procrastinating, really. This past academic year has just been too draining to get much done. But now that I have time, I am fighting the urge to dive into brand-new things.

Porch sitting...

2 May 2020: Put together this new chair and ottoman for the front porch today. Hoping it makes being home so much a bit better.

Spring 2020 Grading: DONE!

1 May 2020: Just finished grading one last (late) paper and calculating/submitting my last set of grades. So I am done with the weirdest semester and the hardest year of my career. Throughout, the teaching remained my greatest joy. I have no idea how I will feel about anything (?) tomorrow, but for now, some chair-dancing is called for.

On a day when two of my podcasts were about Billy Joel, this track, an emotional roller-coaster of a song, one that had me kind of sobbing at the end (when it moves back to the opening frame about six minutes in) the first time I played it today, feels like the right choice.

(Also missing New York, Italian restaurants, hanging out with friends in restaurants, and my dad, who loves the heck out of this song...)