Still thinking about volcanoes...

26 May 2022: I guess I am still thinking about Dickinson's volcanoes today; about how we can carry so much just below the surface. By the way, earlier this week, I concluded my entry on Ruth Hall with a riff on Mrs. Hall calling Ruth "a smoldering volcano." And that got me thinking not just about Dickinson's multiple volcano poems, but also this post on Larcom. Nineteenth-century women writers (or at least three of them) liked that metaphor.

Today was very quiet: no meetings, no appointments. I spent most of it in my office reading about Harriet Wilson, typing up notes, sending emails, etc. Came home and got some gardening done. Didn't even really talk to many people beyond a few sentences. 

But all day long...so many thoughts and big feelings in my head, some personal and some (for our country) much broader. And a bit of light in the darkness that is worrying about a dearest friend's health--a glimmer of hope. And, along with that, continued and profound meditations about what her friendship has meant to me. What a gift she is. 

Big emotions. Big thoughts and feelings. And such outward quiet. It feels strange but also appropriate, at least for me, for right now. 

"Editing as Carework"

7 February 2020: “The more aligned editing becomes with feminized worlds of teaching, service, and care, the less cultural capital such work accrues.” --Sarah Blackwood, "Editing as Carework: The Gendered Labor of Public Intellectuals"

I've been thinking about this article since I read it yesterday. It intersects with so many projects I am working on--the long-in-the-works "book" project, the Larcom piece, another piece on Harriet Jacobs. But it also comments on my whole "balance" project and my need to say "no" more. (This, on the day I learn, via email, that I've been put on another committee...)

"...the sympathy of the two schools in their common work"

14 January 2020: Spent some time today reading through Lucy Larcom's Wheaton Seminary; A Semi-Centennial Sketch. I found myself moved by this footnote, where she mentions how Mary Lyon, in the midst of getting Mount Holyoke started, still helped raise funds for Wheaton. The idea of these communities of women supporting each other in the name of women's education is just so lovely and inspiring.

"November"

24 November 2019:

"More welcome than voluptous gales
This keen, crisp air, as conscience clear:
November breathes no flattering tales;—
The plain truth-teller of the year,
Who wins her heart, and he alone,
Knows she has sweetness all her own." --Lucy Larcom, "November"

Very pleased to see Lucy Larcom, my old buddy (so to speak), featured in today's Poem-a-Day email. On my walk today, I found myself thinking similar thoughts about the beauty of this month.

Late afternoon Larcom thoughts...

3 September 2019: "I am so glad to be, to live, to feel myself advancing year by year into the heart of nature and humanity; and I believe I love all human beings better than I once did, for it was in me to isolate myself, to feel that there were some with whom I had nothing in common. I have forsworn that and am amazed at my past self for not supposing that there was one of God's creatures who was not worth getting acquainted with." --Lucy Larcom in an 1856 letter

This afternoon finds me working through a rather ambitious to-do list with lots of success. One of the last items on the list before heading to trivia was to read an article with some of Larcom's letters included.

The letter quoted above provides another example of how much she moves and fascinates me. I think my own progression in life mirrors hers in this way; and let me be clear--she will (in other writings) retreat a bit from this position, or, more accurately, write about how hard it can be. That only makes her more human and interesting to me.

Wrapping up in MA...

9 August 2019: “O very dear friend, life is a gift, blessed as it is awful! To think how close we are to another’s for good or evil, do what we will! We cannot be apart from our fellow beings…” --Lucy Larcom to John Greenleaf Whittier, 25 December 1881

I wrapped up my research at Wheaton this afternoon and am heading back home in the morning. I think I've gotten some good stuff for my project, whatever that ends up being/looking like.

Apart from what I might write about her work as a teacher, I am grateful for little glimpses of who she was, like the one above. She struggled to make sense of her world, her life, and her role in it. She suffered and felt pain (physical and all the other kinds, too). But she believed in the value of love and work and connection. I find that inspiring.

Larcom as Teacher...

8 August 2019: Got a lot done today in the Wheaton College Archives and got an even better sense of Lucy Larcom as a teacher. Some images that made me laugh and think what has changed in higher education over 150 years and what is not all that different:

 Some favorites from a “list of errors” compiled from compositions: 

“youster” for “used to” 

“oughter” for “ought to” 

“Minerver” for “Minerva” [hello, New England accents!]

“to” for “too” (very often) [some things never change…]

A report card of sorts for a Botany student. Miss Smith seems to be doing well!

Uh-oh! These girls are on the "Running Up Stairs" list! 

A (very partial) list of the (presumably) decent compositions Larcom read one term. Highlights include:

“Talking and Conversing”

“The Delights of Disorder”

“Were You Ever in a Kitchen?”

“Something About Trees”

Hello, Wheaton!

7 August 2019: Next stop on the research trip: Wheaton College, where Lucy Larcom taught everything from composition to botany. Had fun exploring the campus this afternoon.

"this changeable life..."

17 July 2019: "But he almost never calls upon me now, and I was never one who could run after even my best friends, when they seemed to be having a better time without me. --And then it is foolish to expect to keep anything, in this changeable life." --Lucy Larcom, in an 1877 letter, discussing her changed and somewhat strained relationship with her friend/mentor/collaborator, John Greenleaf Whitter (qtd. in Marchalonis 208).

In preparation for my research trip in August, I have spent the last couple of days re-reading Shirley Marchalonis's excellent biography, The Worlds of Lucy Larcom, 1824-1893. Every time I read about Larcom or read her letters, I find so much to grab onto, to relate to, to think about. (And I know I've posted similar sentiments before.) I could have picked any one of a dozen quotations that stuck out to me on this re-read and perhaps the one above is a bit too maudlin for me to be saying "I feel seen!" but you know...it is what it is.

There's a comfort in knowing that someone struggled with and thought about similar kinds of questions and problems over 150 years ago. That isn't an incredibly profound insight--it's why we read and study history. But there is something so specific about Larcom--her life choices, her struggles, her joys--that makes me feel such a connection at times.

Two good things...

28 February 2019: It's been a busy and kind of stressful week made even more complicated by a cold. But today also brought some very good things.

1) I found out that I was awarded a professional development grant to fund some research in Massachusetts for my Lucy Larcom project this summer. I am nervously excited to set up the archival visits and see what I can find.

2) Right before I left my office for the day, one of my favorite students stopped by to give me two pieces of candy and a cute pencil. "You seemed to be having a tough time, so I wanted to give you this," she said. I was so moved that I almost doubled over. These students...they just make it all worth it time and again. 

"stirred up and shaken..."

13 January 2019: "It is good for me to get stirred up and shaken once in a while." --Lucy Larcom, writing to John Greenleaf Whittier about her reaction to Barrett Browning's Aurora Leigh

Being more or less stuck in a hotel room in Charleston for the second straight day has led to a burst of productivity. It isn't snowing here, but it is really raining (a cold rain, too) and I am reluctant to do much exploring. So today I've moved between the hotel room, the hotel lobby, and restaurants, reading and getting work done.

One of my tasks led to me the Larcom quotation above. Every once in a while, she'll drop a soundbite like this (here's another one) and I laugh and feel like we might be kindred spirits. I've even been thinking a lot about Aurora Leigh, which I am teaching for the first time this semester. Weird!

"Unwedded"

5 November 2018: I re-read my dissertation chapter on Lucy Larcom this morning. (It has been a long time!) What a pleasure it was to read some of her poems again. This one, "Unwedded," about a woman who never marries, stuck out to me, especially its closing line: "You waste your pity on such as she."

Sunday night researching...

15 July 2018: I am working on a project that is about lots of things--academia (specifically balancing the demands of scholarship, teaching, and service), gender, and nineteenth-century poet Lucy Larcom. (That last one sticks out, right?) Anyway, I've got a stack of articles I wanted to get through tonight, including this one, which considers a kind of glass ceiling that keeps women from getting promoted to full professor before their male peers. The authors argue that service work gets in the way--service work that their male colleagues don't do as much of.

Like any good study, it asks why women do more. And this passage made me laugh out loud. First, they speculate: "Perhaps women associate professors enjoy service more, while men prefer research?" Then, immediately: "None of our data fits this interpretation." Well, then... Ha!

Belated reaction to good news...

12 July 2018: Since I got the news about my promotion to full professor, I have spent a lot of time thinking about how it will change things for me. Will I go a bit easier on myself in certain areas? Relax a little? Become an even more prickly woman? Say "no" more? Swallow fewer volcanoes?

I still don't know how it will all shake out, but--fully 24 hours later--I am stopping to have more of a reaction to some good news I got yesterday: an article I submitted to Transformations has been accepted for publication. It's my first sort-of-big post-promotion achievement. It won't get me anything substantial--no more promotions to be obtained, no raises in the near future--but it still feels great. Maybe a different kind of great? Like, here's this good thing that is just good in and of itself. Something I can be proud of just because it is good and I like it and I worked hard on it. That's kind of cool.

"Swallowing volcanoes"

13 May 2018: "I don't allow myself to answer, very often; but swallowing volcanoes isn't good for the soul's digestive organs." --Lucy Larcom, in an 1857 letter to a friend, explaining how she holds her tongue around a certain colleague.

Ran across this little gem while doing some research this morning. I mean, tell me that isn't a terrific metaphor? 

I actually find myself trying to swallow fewer volcanoes these days. Feels pretty good!