"folks ahead with lanterns..."

31 March 2021: "'Sarah,' said Abby, solemnly, 'what's got to come has got to. You've got to look at things reasonable. There's two of us, an' one would have to go before the other one; we've always known it. It ain't goin' to be so bad as you think. Mis' Dunbar is comin' here to live with you. I've got it all fixed with her. She's real strong, an' she can make up the fires, an' git the water an' the tubs. You're fifty years old, an' you're goin' to have some more years to live. But it's just goin' to be gittin' up one day after another an' goin' to bed at night, an' they'll be gone. It can be got through with. There's roads trod out through everything, an' there's folks ahead with lanterns, as it were...'" --Mary Wilkins Freeman, "Two Friends"

Found myself fighting back tears reading this passage in my ENGL 301 class today. Big emotions all week. Almost too much, but the Lord also sends moments of light (people with lanterns, even if they don't know it), for which I am so grateful. 

Buddy time...

30 March 2021: Got to spend time with two good buddies today. First, there's Wes, whose presence was especially welcome on a tough day when I am still wrestling with Sunday night's news.

Then (thanks vaccines!) Hannah stopped by for a visit after she got off work. It was our first "in my house" visit in over a year. Just good stuff all around. 

Remembering Scott

29 March 2021: Just devastated to hear about Scott. His love and tireless devotion to Shepherd was inspiring. I am grateful for happy memories like the one in this picture (from the 2019 Faculty Awards Reception). He looks so sharp (as always) and happy, wearing those SU colors as he celebrated his colleagues. And the students leaving tributes to him are just so moving. Sending love, light, and prayers to his family and friends. What a loss!

Moving the plants back...

28 March 2021: About a year ago, I moved my office plants home. Even before COVID, I would worry about leaving them un-watered too long if I was away from campus. But last year, not knowing if Knutti would eventually get fully locked down or if I would get sick and be unable to water them, it just released some anxiety to bring them home. Yet it was quietly devastating to bring them home, an acknowledgement of how bad things were, how bad they could get, and how uncertain we were about when Shepherd would look and feel like Shepherd again.

Even then, I wondered what it would take for me to bring them back. To bring them back to campus only to have to bring them home again if things got worse? I couldn't even think about it. So they stayed at my house through the entire summer and fall semester and two-thirds of this semester. Eventually, "bringing the plants back" became this hazy item on my post-vaccine list. 

Today I brought the two biggest ones back. It's no easy feat: they are both pretty large and I carried them in my plastic laundry basket. (Forgot to snap pictures, but maybe I'll add them to this post tomorrow.) There is still one more here at home, but I want to repot some of it and fix it up a bit. And in the weeks before we realized how bad COVID would be, I had even purchased a couple of bright pots to put in the hallway window. That never happened, but I still have the pots, so maybe that is the next step.

Tiny steps towards normal...

Virtual Convention

27 March 2021: Spent some time today attending the Sigma Tau Delta International Convention, including moderating the the session that four of our students put together. This event was supposed to be in Colorado, but that was, of course, pre-COVID. So, we settled for virtual. Even still, it was lovely to see undergraduates so eager to talk about literature with each other.

Next year is (God willing) Atlanta. Looking forward to it already. 

"Ode to Sitting in a Booth"

26 March 2021:

"...No matter how loud
this bar, within these three walls we can drop
straight into a very electric flight. We can
pretend we don’t answer to anyone–including
the waitress–& no one even knows where we are."

Oh, do I love this poem. Love sitting in a restaurant booth with someone(s) important to you. The way that little space feels like an intimate fort. The way you can lean back and over and relax. The way you can lean in closer. I have missed it so much.  

Another shot in the arm...

25 March 2021: Christian got his first shot today. Now that just leaves Erin, Jeff, and Eric (among my immediate family). And the kids, of course. Closer and closer to feeling secure...

Add it to the list...

24 March 2021: Add to the list of things I never thought would be part of my job: posing with the mascot to raise money.

LBC 2.0

23 March 2021: Said goodbye to Little Blue Car 1.0 today and actually got teared up. So many memories in that car since 2008. 

Said hello to LBC 2.0 and felt like I wanted to puke in a good way (?). Grateful to be fortunate enough to be able to get exactly what I wanted.

Still her kid...

22 March 2021: "She sounds like she has a cold, doesn't she?" --my mom to my dad, as we wrapped up my phone call to her on her birthday. (She also kept saying this when we saw each other on Saturday.)

"I don't have a cold," I said, laughing as I hit the "end call" button. That "mom energy," so sensitive to her kid's health, so unwilling to believe me when I tell her I am fine, is kind of touching. 

Sunday blues vs. spring springing

21 March 2021: Big Thoughts post alert. Ha. 

Spring was certainly doing its thing today. I waited until mid-afternoon to take my walk and did so in a t-shirt. I had the front window open for a bit, too, which the cats loved. And as the sun worked its way down in the afternoon, it filled the house with warm light. All of this helped, of course, with the Sunday blues, though they are still here, or at least the vaguely unsettled version of them. 

This will be an interesting week, which is weighing on me, though not in entirely bad ways. Senate meeting tomorrow (blah). Papers coming in tomorrow, too. Advising starts on Wednesday. And I am test-driving a new car on Tuesday. That is filling me with all the "spending big money" feelings.

I also realize I've done less work this weekend than a usual weekend. I did more TV watching, more hanging with the cats, more relaxing. In fact, all semester, I've been doing less weekend work and more of the above. Ostensibly, this is okay! Weekends aren't exclusively for work, after all. 

But Sunday rolls around and I get anxious about what I haven't done. Nothing on that Dorothy Allison piece or another conference paper (that hasn't even been accepted yet). No work on the practicum I am running (again, for no money, so wtf am I anxious about?). 

Clearly, Project Balance is out of whack. Needs some retooling. I just tried to find a post that I swore I wrote in the last year or so about deciding that focusing more on writing would be a good distraction from other stuff. This kind of compromised version of Project Balance is perhaps an implicit admission that my life is always going to be disproportionately weighted on the career front. I can remember thinking about it a lot and acknowledging it and feeling okay about it, but I guess I never posted about it. 

But the inclination of that "lost post" (ha!) is still here with me, this acknowledgement that I want time to read, research, and write because it gives me pleasure and doing things that are pleasurable is a way to carve out some balance. I feel a bit sad about not getting the research/writing work done, but glad to know it's still there to do. I am excited to do it. I can't say the same for the other work stuff I didn't get to. All I feel is kind of anxious about it (and maybe a bit resentful). Nothing fun about it. 

Anyway, maybe by the end of the week, I'll have some new wheels, some more writing done, a bunch of happy advisees, some graded papers, and one fewer Senate meeting. For now, shifting towards my Sunday TV viewing and soaking up some more good weekend vibes. 

More (old) normal...

20 March 2021: Hugged my parents today without being afraid. Almost overwhelming if you think about it too much.  

(The Old) Normal

19 March 2021: My vaccine at full strength, I spent a good chunk of today (our one-day Spring Break) hanging out inside, maskless with Hannah. It was the first time I have done something like that in a year. It was simple and amazing. 

Dorothy Allison on Titanic

18 March 2021: "I think of the movie Titanic. All the people who good and really had fun on the ship were working-class people. They all drowned, but they had a good time before they drowned. I remember the good Irish working-class mother who pulled the blanket up to the neck of her child as the water rises up to the kid's ears. I was thinking, 'Oh, God, bitch, don't die and let your kid die! Shoot somebody!'" --Dorothy Allison, talking about how we romanticized working-class lives. 

I am back at work on my Dorothy Allison essay, expanding it to journal-article length. The passage above, which made me laugh and made me nod my head, reminded me of how much I love her voice.

Work Cited

Tokarczyk, Michelle M. Class Definitions: On the Lives and Writings of Maxine Hong Kingston, Sandra Cisneros, and Dorothy Allison. Susquehanna UP, 2008.

19!

17 March 2021: 19 years old today! Can't hear a thing, a bit slow at times, but still just the best boy. And sassy as ever.

"until about 15 minutes ago, they were us..."

16 March 2021: A little over two years ago I made a decision not to pursue an opportunity to switch (potentially) to a more administrative role. And it felt--and still feels--great. I know it was the right decision for my happiness and the kind of work I want to do. That makes me more grateful for those who do take on this work, especially if it isn't something they do out of a sense of obligation or responsibility. (The only thing that comes close: taking on the Senate presidency, which was more about taking one for the team, but is still--by definition--a faculty position.) 

This lovely piece by Rachel Toor is a good reminder of just who an "administration" often is and how careless our rhetoric towards these folks can be. Definitely worth reading.

I suppose it's also the Middlemarch in me at this moment, but any reminder to gesture and push outside ourselves and really see the people we interact with is welcome these days. 

"It exists, it matters, but who can trace it?"

15 March 2021: "In its lovely final passage, Eliot writes of Dorothea that the effect of her goodness was 'incalculably diffusive': It exists, it matters, but who can trace it? Applied to books, that becomes a moral argument for fiction I think I can defend. Whatever Middlemarch has been doing to the world all these many years, I like to think it is diffuse, and diffusing, and incalculably good." --Kathryn Schulz, "What Is It About Middlemarch?"

Been thinking about Schulz's piece on and off all day. She says so eloquently what I have been trying to explain to my students about this novel. 

It also touches on an eternal but also extra-pandemic-y question: what difference can any one person make? Especially ordinary people? If you do good, the book suggests, it matters.

Snorkels, taxes, and meal deliveries

14 March 2021: Facebook reminded me that two years ago today, I was snorkeling in the Bahamas. In so many ways, that seems much longer ago and almost unimaginably far away. I remember that specific activity was the thing I looked forward to most of all on that trip. And for a bunch of reasons, it didn't live up to what I built it to be in my mind. I can't remember it without that twinge of sadness and disappointment. 

One year ago today, I got my taxes done (I remember the accountant shook my hand and I felt so weird) and got my hair cut. There was this urgency to everything. Get it done and get home and settle in. 

Today has been a quiet day, in some ways. Supermarket run in the morning, double-masked, of course. Hand sanitizer in the car for before and after. Got some grading done on campus. Took a break to get my walk in, delivering meals to our one on-campus quarantined student along the way. (That last clause is such a snapshot of our world right now, isn't it?) Came home and have been mixing chores and relaxing since then. And thinking, of course. Big Thoughts. Sunday, after all, is Big Thoughts day. 

About five more days until this vaccine is at full strength. Whatever March 14, 2022 looks like, assuming I am still around (one never knows), I know that fact will in some way shape it and I have to believe it will be for the better. 

Video-chatting, almost one year in...

13 March 2021: 

[Catch-up post...]

Late on my daily post for the first time is a long time, but I am going to use it as an excuse to go meta and talk about another anniversary. You see, last night's weekly video chat with my college friends went extra-long and was extra-awesome. Mike joined us again (two weeks in a row), which made it even better. As we talked, we realized next week would be the one-year anniversary of our first video chat. It is not an overstatement to say this: I am not sure what I would have done without these friends and these weekly chats. What a gift.

This is so dumb...

12 March 2021: Already working on (sometimes very dumb) flyers for Fall 2021 courses...

Here come the one-year anniversaries...

11 March 2021: Facebook reminds me that today is the one-year anniversary of the last "in-person" non-teaching event I've done on campus: the "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" fundraiser for a student with cancer. The title of that post I've linked to--"Bittersweet"--rings true 365 days later. 

Yet today has been a good day. I got a lot of work done. The weather in insanely beautiful--we're talking "open windows, short sleeves, gym-shorts-wearing-in-the-house" kind of beautiful. In a little while, I'll watch the women's b-ball team play (online, still no in-person access). Tonight there's good TV to watch. And tomorrow's Friday. 

So even as this is the week when the anniversaries have started to hit, better days seem to be ahead. We keep ticking along in our new world...

Post-meeting catch-up...

10 March 2021: Had a long phone conversation with Tim this evening. It was lovely and fun and felt like the good (old) kind of normal. It's weird that we had to do it over the phone on the same day we had a department meeting, but that meeting was via Zoom and Tim was all the way in Rockville. In other words, no catching up or "meeting-post-mortem" in the hallway or one of our offices afterwards. As so many have pointed out, Zoom just doesn't replicate those spaces and opportunities for talks. And boy: the phone is just so much better, it seems to me, for one-on-one conversations. 

A battlefield, indeed...

9 March 2021: Trying to work from home when the cats decide you should be done. Soundtrack is serendipitously perfect. (I am trying to type notes.)

Anticipating Spring

 8 March 2021: Just the other day, I noticed these flowers working their way up on a patch of garden near my front door. A literal and metaphorical sign of better times, I think.

I have never anticipated a spring like this one. In "normal" times, it's my favorite season. This year, the promises of better weather, more time outside, this vaccine in my veins, and so many signs of hope out there fill me with a quiet thrill. (Less and less "quiet" each moment, I suppose.)

The CDC's new guidelines for vaccinated people, released just today, almost made me weep. I texted Erin, saying "we can hang out without masks and distancing!" I texted Hannah that, in a few weeks, we can hang out with an (unvaccinated) Cory. Even before today's guidelines, I was elated over getting to hang out with just a (fully vaccinated) Hannah. 

Come on, spring! Come on, hope!

Midterm grading: DONE!

7 March 2021: Just hit "submit" on my last set of midterm grades. My classes are pretty small this semester and I am only teaching three (course release thanks to the Senate presidency), but it still feels like a big accomplishment. 

So let's cue some chair-dancing. This old track came up when I hit "shuffle" on the iPod. It's mellower than most chair-dancing tracks, but it works well enough.

A good kind of pain

6 March 2021: So far, my reactions to the second dose of the vaccine haven't been too bad. I am tired, but probably not as tired as with the first dose. This time my arm is really sore (more than last time). But it's a good kind of pain because it's a sign it's working and that's amazing. And I am lucky to be going through this on a day I can basically stay home and work at my own pace. I've got 2/3 of my midterm grading done and have done a pretty decent amount of housework. Just about to hit my 10K, too, so I might call "done" on work for the day and knock out the rest of those midterms (just seven more essays) tomorrow. 

Dose #2!

5 March 2021: Dose #2! So profoundly grateful.

"little triggers"

4 March 2021: "Will was not without his intentions to be always generous, but our tongues are little triggers which have usually been pulled before general intentions can be brought to bear." --George Eliot, speaking something that is as true today as it was when she wrote it 150 years ago.

I have spent lots of time today working on various (not fun) parts of my job, a lot of them involving wordsmithing and really thinking ahead, so coming across these words made me laugh and nod my head knowingly. 

Almost did a spit-take...

3 March 2021: "It is a distinctly male quality to assume the world owes you something." --a student in my Victorian novel class absolutely dragging Victor Frankenstein and Heathcliff in her midterm essay. I nearly did a spit-take when I read it this morning.

Another long day, though this one offered more progress than frustration. Still overwhelmed, but less stressed. But even now as I type this, at about 8:00 p.m., that memory of this morning (about 12 hours ago) seems so long ago. 

"Make It Real"

2 March 2021: Not sure what it means that this old (and really sad!) track calmed my soul in the midst of another day that really beat me up. Stress levels are high. Cannot remember a day with this many "I need this/you need to do this" emails coming at me. And every one is urgent, but none of the urgency--none of it--is my fault or doing. And I am feeling unappreciated or at least under-appreciated by all these people who keep asking me for things or not doing their fair share. I barely feel comfortable typing out that last sentence, by the way. 

So anyway, yeah, this song by The Jets, with all its melancholy beauty is somehow hitting the spot. (How great are The Jets?)

In like a lion...

1 March 2021: When we think about the cliché that March comes in like a lion, we are usually talking about the weather. Well, we do have both a flood warning and a wind advisory here tonight, but so far, March has been leonine in other ways, too. Long, busy, and sometimes tense and frustrating day at work. And I find myself quite worried about a beloved former student who appears to be in a very bad place. 

Still, as I drove home today after over eleven hours on campus, I saw the end of a heck of a sunset across the sky. Then I reminded myself how lovely it was that it was still light out (kind of) after 6:00. Glimpses of beauty and reminders of hope and endurance. So here we go, March. (And you know I am here for the "out like a lamb" part of that cliché.)